Last week, while binge watching the last season of Breaking Bad, I heard a song I’d never heard that made my heart skip a beat and then pick up again more insistently. The music choices in Breaking Bad don’t disappoint. First of all, rather than using music to cue the… [Continue Reading]

Sometimes poems wait for you. It’s like a poem has run up ahead to get the lay of the land and then waits for you to catch up. That’s how you can get a poem way before you get a poem, way before being able to put into words the… [Continue Reading]

The paring knife of life keeps peeling. In restlessness, in exasperation, on the edge of falling, I keep coming to: What is essential here? It is a question both clean and powerful. It moves around the immovable, leaving bullshit in its wake. Sitting in that question is sitting in kindness…. [Continue Reading]

It’s not for not having people who love me. Not at all. And it’s not for not loving people, including a number whose side I would pick up and fly around the world to be at in a moment’s notice if ever they said the word. There’s even a dear… [Continue Reading]

Who is the clambering animal in me and what does she clamber for? What dreams rest on my Rocky Mountain peaks? What wants lie wedged in the crags of my Sierras? What animal warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas? Like “The Guesthouse” by Rumi, Carl Sandburg’s “Wilderness” helps me… [Continue Reading]

My friend, Pierre, wrote this poem for me on my birthday. I love it. (by P.C. Billon) Shifting your weight, you’ve made your feet at home In the soft, white sand. You stop, for a moment And let the world continue on its way. The clouds inch their way inland,… [Continue Reading]

Tuesday, 1 November 2005 Cambridge, MA Tonight I feel lucky to be living in Cambridge. The rents might be higher than most places in the country and it gets mighty cold for the winter which lasts much more than the three months allotted to it by the calendar… But where… [Continue Reading]