Dear Copyeditor,

Dear Copyeditor,

I am writing you
this poem
the way a gazelle
must grow ever sleeker
and quicker
to escape
the indelicate jaws
of the lion.

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Another

Another

Crow in a birch tree
shakes rain from its wings…

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The Choice Between Freedom and Love

The Choice Between Freedom and Love

How much do I allow my life to be governed by my decisions about how the world and how people “ought to be,” and how I “ought to behave”? How open am I to making real choices, on a daily basis, facing up to the potential within every single moment to integrate love and free will, and to respond to the diversity and interconnection of an ever-shifting and always surprising reality? This is what I thought about as I walked in the woods this morning.

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The Killing Blow: A Poem

The Killing Blow: A Poem

In times of grief and sorrow, when even a hundred thousand words will not do, I turn to the aching brevity of poetry…. This poem was originally published February 17, 2011, and though it may be unseasonable for the time of year, there are days even in the dreary depths of autumn when we need to remember the coming spring.

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With All My Heart

With All My Heart

That’s how sick we all are of this bullshit nonsense. You’re sick of it, too, I know. You’re sick of the internet outrage machine. You’re sick of controversy and condemnation. You reshare links to things you hate just to tell people you hate them, and somewhere inside, you hate yourself for doing it, because you know it’s useless. You’re sick of the noise and the fury, signifying nothing. You’re sick of a society that asks you to hold onto everything so tightly, with so much certainty and righteous indignation, that your fingers are curled into fists and you can’t remember the last time you gently traced the scars on another person’s skin as if they were something beautiful.

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