Category: Deep Knee Bends

The more complex things, the deeper ones.

Everyone Love Everyone

— Part of the December “If Only in My Dreams” series. Thanks. You May Also Like:My (Internal) Midwestern LandscapeReal or Real-ishThe Big Question: Can I Change the World?On Being Called an IdiotLet Me Be a Jellyfish

If I Were Not Awake

If I were not awake before my alarm, I would have missed this delicate lavender sunrise, which isn’t all that different than any other perfect sunrise I’ve seen in the past, except that today it reminded me that being awake is the point, after all. You May Also Like:We Interrupt this Life for a MeltdownThe…

We want… More Time

Last night, when the kids were tucked sweetly in footie pajamas and in bed, I started racing through a list of things I wanted to get done before I hit the hay myself. The list looked something like this: do dishes sort through 5 bins of summer clothes write blog post make contact with other…

A Dry Time

You ever get a bit of time where you feel like you are just dry out of ideas? I never seem to be out of ideas, but it seems like lately I keep hitting a wall of no. The wall of no has quite a few people sitting on top of it, their hairy legs…

The Day, Stripped Down

If you ask this question, I answer: Wake up, Kiss cheeks, Move sheets up to pillows Move aside blinds. (Daylight must have its way). Eat food. Water from a tap. Frozen bagels scorched In that metal box. Spread plates around the Craigslist table. Brush crumbs from cheeks. Get dressed. Move the hampers to move The…

On Being Underscheduled

Ahhh. Today was one of those most perfect days. I was so happy because my zen-wonderful brother-in-law/sister-in-law and their kids were visiting. They have such a nice way of arriving with their own unplanned, unhurried, not-worried manner. They are — or seem to be — just quite happy to hang out at our house and…

Lean In

There has been a small book on my bedside table for a couple months now. I opened it once, and after that I did not touch it. The book actually doesn’t seem to sit or even lie on the table. It seems to hover— held aloft from the earth and all its possessions from the…

How To Write Around It

Yesterday in class, my student Mike had clearly lost faith. I didn’t know why. But I could see that he was lost. I had asked the entire class to write for a page in response to the question: “Who are you in a group?” followed by “What do you fear about working in  groups?” They…

I’m Not Writing from the Heart

I just stopped by this blog by one of my favorite tweeps, @ArtemisRetreats, and I realized I feel like a fake. That’s right, I am a big, neverending puff of hot air. My blog is supposed to be this place where I can just write from the center of me, where I can change and…

Stop Everything

Betty cat sidles up Shoves her way in Lolls under my firm pressure Kneading my gut. Telling me with toenails uncut… Stop working, stop everything– Make more… Make more love. You May Also Like:It’s Just the Weather – #reverb14, Day 3ResidueA Small Stone LateWho Do You Love?In Love with Royal Love

A Poem to Those Who Love Me

Make the day pause, A top all done now the spinning: But not yet toppled. If (for just one day) I am the morning sun, Then You are the luscious hills I peek over; The refracting air dew –In winter, air’s mirror– And that single ecstatic Songbird rambling Her grocery list. And if, At noontime,…

AROS 6

Montrous Snow peaks, huddled at Road edges, yard edges Crowd the winter in. Barely room for me to slither by In my repressed Town & Country. I remember you, snow, as Individual, unique Flakes, and I feel The same lonely. You May Also Like:The Danger of Being QuietThis Orchid and IResidueAnger ComesOn a Hot Day

AROS #1

AROS #1 All the power of DAY– Light To discern and distinguish Light To construct the concrete world Compose ephemeral meaning, All pulsing In one Hair thin Filament. You May Also Like:ResidueAnger ComesFine Tooth CombThe WallI Brought a Loofa

To Be a Storyteller

The #reverb10 final prompt from Molly O’Neill asked “What is your core story?” Being a huge fan of The Moth, and Eddie Izzard, and loving to hear people rattle off stories about their hilarious trip here and there —  and being a writer naturally — I am perplexed and in awe of storytellers. I can…