Strangely enough, my daily rhythms during our quarantine time—from “stay at home” to the more recent “safer at home”—have not been dramatically different from what they had been, before this all began. For quite some time, my yoga/qigong practice has been a “home practice.” And, likewise, the majority of the freelance writing that I’ve recently been engaged with takes place in my home office … …
Poetry
Concurrence
Concurrence Each day's terror, almost a form of boredom—madmen at the wheel and stepping on the gas and the brakes no good— and each day one, sometimes two, morning-glories, faultless, blue, blue sometimes flecked with magenta, each lit from within with the first sunlight. ~ Denise Levertov * …
Tick-Tock
Each clock tick falls like a raindrop, right through the floor as if it were nothing. ~ from Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry * …
Difficult Music
A Rainy Morning A young woman in a wheelchair, wearing a black nylon poncho spattered with rain, is pushing herself through the morning. You have seen how pianists sometimes bend forward to strike the keys, then lift their hands, draw back to rest, then lead again to strike just as the chord fades. Such is the way this woman strikes at the wheels, then lifts her long white …
Every Place the Wind Carries Me
At Home in the Summer Mountains I’ve come to the house of the Immortals: In every corner, wildflowers bloom. In the front garden, trees Offer their branches for drying clothes; Where I eat, a wine glass can float In the springwater’s chill. From the portico, a hidden path Leads to the bamboo’s darkened groves. Cool in a summer dress, I choose From among heaped piles of books. Reciting …
Although The Wind
Although the wind blows terribly here, the moonlight also leaks between the roof planks of this ruined house. —Izumi Shikibu (trans. Hirshfield & Aratani) * …