Poems planted in PQ / Sept ’16

As part of Communal Acts of Beauty I leave poems for hikers along trails. Most often these poems are left within Penasquitos Canyon Preserve. When I started leaving poems, I usually folded them and tucked them into tree knots or nestled within branches. This weekend however, after spending time on

Trough, by Judy Brown

There is a trough in waves, a low spot where horizon disappears and only sky and water are our company. And there we lose our way unless we rest, knowing the wave will bring us to its crest again. There we may drown if we let fear hold us in

The Real Work, by Wendell Berry

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is

The Pregnancy of Words, by Bob Hicok

Eros scrabble to rose and rage to gear or gare, as in Gare du Nord, where I trained in to Paris from not smoking pot in Master Mad, I’m sorry, Amsterdam, with its canals called grachts and clocks that bonged my homesick hours at different times. Which is smite for

Art + Poetry

When art and poetry are shown together it offers the reader a glimpse into a world beyond the imaged poem. While this can sometimes be limiting for the poems contents, I have appreciation for when it is artfully applied and especially when, for instance, a photo of a natural landscape

For the Senses, John O’Donahue

For the Senses May the touch of your skin Register the beauty Of the otherness That surrounds you. May your listening be attuned To the deeper silence Where sound is honed To bring distance home. May the fragrance Of a breathing meadow Refresh your heart And remind you you are

Sweet Darkness, by David Whyte

Sweet Darkness When your eyes are tired the world is tired also. When your vision has gone no part of the world can find you. Time to go into the dark where the night has eyes to recognize its own. There you can be sure you are not beyond love.

Everything is Waiting for You, by David Whyte

Everything is Waiting for You (After Derek Mahon) Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone.  As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions.  To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings.  Surely,

A Leaf From the Tree of Songs, Adam Christianson

A Leaf From the Tree of Songs, Adam Christianson When harpers once in wooden hall A shining chord would strike Their songs like arrows pierced the soul Of great and low alike Aglow by hearth and candleflame From burning branch ot ember The mist of all their music sang As

A Daily Journey, by Steven Morris

A Daily Journey And we walked on the foggy low-lit trail Burned at the edges, Rising, stride by stride, slow then quick Then slow. With gratitude— Each step became More deliberate— More lifted— More alive— More amore— Leading to that rare place that rests In the body’s marrow, The mind’s

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