through the green
oregano air, floats
down into the bubbling
rumors of tomatoes…
“Ode to Pizza”
From My Own True Name, 2000
Everything’s in love.
Birds, butterflies, and now me,
dizzy in your eyes.
I want to begin the year by sharing wise words from the poet (and gardener) Stanley Kunitz in The Wild Braid: A Poet Reflects on a Century in the Garden.
“I am not done with my changes.”
“You have to practice being yourself.”
“The poet doesn’t so much disappear into the poem as become the poem.”
Twelve Choir Questions
Did the wind’s whistle redden the holly berries?
Is it the oven’s breath that’s sweet with sugar and anise?
How do the bells’ hearts beat so merrily?
Do the luminarias guide us to the path of peace?
In autumn, broody season,
garden conversations turn philosophical,
leaves pontificating on life’s brevity, the weight
of maturity. Seed-heavy, your head bows.
“Ode to Sunflowers”
Adobe Odes, 2006
I feel like a small child
only able to speak very simple
all the time I feel incomplete
“Learning English: Chorus in Many Voices”
My Own True Name, 2000
She carries a green river,
heavy, but it hums.
In any desert, she can bow her head
and sip from her own arms.
Agua Santa: Holy Water, 1995
on my Texas desert.”
“For Georgia O’Keeffe,”
Chants, 1984 (my first book)
“I speak words of faith—practice, practice.
I pick up the next shoe or boot—like us,
it needs patient attention and repair.”
Encantado: Desert Monologues