Engaged Impermanence

•March 13, 2013 • 1 Comment

I am changing
Second to second
Moment to moment
Day to day
And I am okay

Because it is inescapable Me
It will happen with or without me
I choose to join in
Which means experiencing
Vacillations fully
Agitated angst
Painful empathy
Sudden sorrow
Jittery joy
Frenetic fear
Comforting connection

Vulnerable variations
Also mean letting go
Of solid assurances
Because they do not exist
Second to second
Moment to moment
Day to day
And I am more than okay

 –by me

Painting:  “My (almost) First Portrait,” by Annette Schwindt

Outside Chance

•March 10, 2013 • 7 Comments

Tonight
I find myself choosing
Between a tough fight
And a soft relinquishing

I have no fear of sweat and blood
Especially my own
I have blinked away salt and sting before
Tasted that sanguine tincture on my tongue
Just as I have gritted and grinned
Guffawed even at the shattering
Of my own sanity
While I shook it off
And got to the business
Of setting it back into place
With a quick jerk and a wince

Harder still is stepping back
And letting that fist fly just beyond me
Leaving only a slight breeze
Which carries with it a faint scent of sweat
And deflated fury
To keep my swollen gaze downward
And let myself listen…

To shocked silence
A moment of pure possibility
While we wait
To see what I will choose next

Tonight I find myself

–by me

Boxing2Boxing-2 by Kalel Koven

Diving

•March 9, 2013 • 7 Comments

The fanned tops of trees
Bare in winter
Like spindly black coral
Gently waving
In a windy current
An ocean sky saturated
With sandy sediment
A grey that clouds all
But that contrasting tree coral
And my imagination

BlackCoral1

(For my father)

Observing Phenomena

•March 8, 2013 • 4 Comments

Violent streaks of slanted snowfall changing direction,

Delicate swirl and drift defying gravity,

Towards me lightly tapping fingertips attempting to gain entry,

Hard and horizontal mimicking its less frozen cousin.

 

Inhalation followed by tingling in my extremities,

Forced warm air wraps itself around my ankles,

Swelling in my chest and a welling of tears,

Eyes dried and blurred by the bright and the heat.

 

A slab of snow slowly sliding down a car door,

Detaching from its packed and planted origins,

Finally free and snaking its way to the ground,

Stopped mid-descent by a protruding door handle.

 

My insides tremble and attempt to propel me,

Out of my sitting to capture the moment,

Back to my breath, and the window, and the snow,

It will come, it can wait, just stay still, let it go.

MyWindow

Adventure

•March 8, 2013 • 7 Comments

A decision we made,

Bundle up and let’s brave,

The ice planet of Hoth.

 

Snow crystals kissing our face,

Tongues out checking the taste,

Slight hint of mint muddled water.

 

We left our hearts and our names,

And some footprints of games,

In the soft crunchy slosh.

 

Not a cold hurried fate,

But a walking playdate,

Between mother and daughter.

 

— April Resnick

SnowSketchBook

Hand Painted Sketchbook by Carla Francesca Castagno

Seasonal Storm

•March 6, 2013 • 2 Comments

Today I sat in a shifting home
Creaking and settling
Whipped by winds
That hem and haw
Around me the walls
Bow inward and outward
Irregular breathing
A death rattle perhaps
Or the very first gasps
Of a structure attempting to work it all out

image

Prescription

•March 5, 2013 • Leave a Comment

When we first say hello,
My memories muddle me so,
I’ll take a hug.

When we connect ever slightly,
Over details we’re uttering,
I’ll take a hug.

When we’ve lost common clues,HugAbstract
And silence ensues,
I’ll take a hug.

When nothing is left,
Except win or lose,
I’ll take a hug.

When I lean barely your way,
But then pull away,
I’ll take a hug.

When we say goodbye,
Even for the day,
I’ll take a hug.

Regardless of norms,
Or habits of form,
I’ll take a hug.

Like medicine made,
By a soothsayer sage,
I’ll take a hug.

My Whale

•March 2, 2013 • 5 Comments

I have a little whale20130302-182751.jpg

All feathered in its

Gusty gale.

 

I don’t think he ever

Stops to think

Why I put him in my sink.

 

–by Leia J. Resnick (age 7)

 

(My daughter wrote this poem while we were away.  I promised her I would post it.)

Vacation

•February 27, 2013 • 5 Comments

My life on a napkin
A map of neighboring states
Remains two-dimensional
And paper-thin
Easily inked on
With misshapen letters
Folded around stale flavorless gum
Crumpled and discarded
Or shoved in a pocket

My life in a bed sheet
At first crisp
Clean and tucked
Cocooned at noon
Then tossed at 3 am
Undone around the edges
Feeling more like love
With each wearing in

My life in a glass
Full of color and flavor
Savor each sip and gulp
Emptying
Playful haze of days
As the vessel is left
Clearly seen through
Waiting to be filled again
Placed with the other dirties
Or shattered by a careless elbow

I need another
I want to crawl into another
I’ll take another

To soak up
To swathe
To suffuse

maxfieldparrish-mountainecstasy

“Mountain Ecstasy” by Maxfield Parrish

Outside My Window

•February 26, 2013 • 1 Comment

Snowflakes and crows
My thoughts with the trees
Chase after each other
On the wintery breeze

Black feathers crisp
Against hills covered white
Sun blotted out by the grey
Tops of trees swaying slight

Bare branches like arms
They are reaching for me
Embraced by chilly dark dancing
Of snow, crows, and trees

All at once wrapped in a silence
Bundled up by the drift
Minuet moves to stillness
Like those mountains, I sit

20130226-155937.jpg

 

Picture by me at Keystone Lodge, Colorado