I’m looking forward to sharing a number of videos of poems from my upcoming book Les Feuilles Mortes in the coming weeks, including several from my friends and readers across the world. Here is the first, a letter written in quarantine to my young children.
Category Archives: Autobiography
From “Autumn Leaves: Tanka for Isolation”
My twin boys turn onewithin our garden’s walled world,learn to navigateand negotiate space asleaves fall in entrancing swirls. This poem comes from my upcoming collection “Les Feuilles Mortes”. Stay tuned for more information about the launch, or contact me to join the mailing list.
You Will Not Fear
Hiding within my son’s clothes,it lay unseen until bedtime whenit scurried out from his sleeve, explaininghis tears through dinner andthe nick on his wrist spottedonly moments before.It was not the night to visit Emergency.Wind and rain buffeted the drive, asunidentified spider in jar beside me,I punctuated my frantic breaths withcomma prayers and apostrophe thoughtsof theContinue reading “You Will Not Fear”
Coronavirus, with OCD
Wash your hands; don’t touch your face. Did I wash my hands, and did I touch my face after? Before? Don’t be afraid but be aware. Wash your hands; don’t touch your face. These sightless microbes swim in air. Your nose is dripping. Touch your face. Wash your hands. Don’t be afraid. It all mayContinue reading “Coronavirus, with OCD”
Grief Before Grief
Here death is a vulture:devours face and memory,claws at carrion, feeds on fullnesslike life was flesh,fit for the taking.But life is a millionintangible moments, alldazzling and passingin Eden-sunk griefand Life won’t go silently,fighting reduction,while Death – old materialist -denies Life ever was.We have seen it, and held it.We bear its witness.We stroke its unresponsive handandContinue reading “Grief Before Grief”
Bloom
Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. (Psalm 126:5) You’ll be glad to hear your tree is sprouting leaves and in the midst of blossom, tiny fruit. Your little brother’s learning all the names for almond, flowering gum and bottlebrush; yet you by now will know far more than this. TheContinue reading “Bloom”
My own garden I have neglected
Gather your spiritual bouquet… (Francis de Sales) Plenteous winter rain left the backyard a grassy forest where mallow and clover ran riot and kikuyu spread its runners wide. The rhizomatic tangle, lush and unbeatable, enfolded in itself a toddler’s trucks, a sandpit shovel, a bouncy ball, a peg, and I, bent on order yet atContinue reading “My own garden I have neglected”
The first day of spring
began with honeysuckle and clover, the constants of the winter yet rendered more redolent by the scents of September and a bee buzzing about a flowering cactus and ended with a downpour that sent me rushing to the clothesline while my son stood in his raincoat and listened to the rain with all things –Continue reading “The first day of spring”
Noah’s Ark: For Eli
I. Delighted by animals, God and rain, my son finds kinship in Noah’s ark, commentating the story as I leaf through his Bible: “Rain! Giraffe. Boat. Noah. Wet. Monkeys!” How to convey what a rainbow’s about, or how I long for him and his brothers to be kept safe in the ark as the floodContinue reading “Noah’s Ark: For Eli”
The Consolations of Writing 