Written September, 2018 in Paris, France.
God in the details
My Maker is in the details
In the tiny rays in the crooks of my eyes
Engraved from grins
In the dregs of cold coffee
After a morning of prayer
He’s even in the dwindling numbers of my checking account,
Joyfully thrown on plane tickets
My Maker is in the cup I hold
Fingers wrapped tentatively around what He’s given me
Written September, 2018 in Morocco.
Give me the cup of love and suffering, and I will learn to walk in your ways
Balancing the cup on the flattened palm of my hand, it quivers and rocks, splashed wine on my wrist
I take steps and see that I can. It’s messy – but worth it
“Guest” Carol Ann Duffy – A Scottish poet and one of my absolute favorites.
This is a poem about texting. I love the first line, “I tend the mobile now/like an injured bird” – Isn’t that true of us, now?
Read Text by Carol Ann Duffy.
Written March 7th, 2019, in my car.
Been coming here
For quite some time now
Finding friendship in the clean, consistent horizon
Affectionate blustery gusts
And rotating wheel of gulls, spinning overhead like a halo
Written August 8th, 2018, in Dublin, Ireland.
Smack dab in the city center
Find this arched invitation into dark territory
After guzzling Coca Cola at the McDonald’s
And purchasing shoes you don’t need
The only rule is, don’t look back.
“Guest” Rachel Jamison Webster
A poem about one of my favorite places, by a poet I love. She wrote this about the conception of her daughter. My favorite line: I was just learning to be human / and upright among all that life.
Read Kauai by Rachel Jamison Webster.
Written July 4th, 2017 on an airplane back to America. Another poem about cookies in Paris.
They trooped day after day into the Marais.
Unafraid of earning glances, scarves knotted around their necks and heads thrown back to laugh in the damp after-rain air.
Cappuccinos, pink silk fringed in sequins, vintage denim. This was their town now.
When they finally made it to the silent macaron shop, they divided and conquered between beurre de seul, chocolat noir, and rose. Lips curled around their fragile edges,
the girls feasted.
“Guest” Morgan Harper Nichols. MHN is a major poetic force and one of the sole reasons I check Instagram morning, noon, and night. Her words are simple, encouraging, and timely. Take a look at her brilliant poetry here.