so i can wash

dandelion drink
warm and sweet simmered on the stove
for hours
whose root i collected
on thursday
cooked on sunday now
sipping as i decompress hard people
of the day
those people that, (make me think of that poem i memorized once, words of
rumi
through the english translation of daniel ladinsky)

punch a hole in your being whenever they are around
and then you leak out energy and other kinds of vitals you could have used *

reflecting how on my good days there are no people like that
right? but some days they seem to be
everywhere

well not everywhere, just in particular places

taking a bite of a (maybe gala sort of sweet not too special) apple
and refilling
my mug, one i’ve carried along with me to different houses and
homes, in the car, and sometimes to work, across the country and back? shades of sky blue with a ridged handle so i can wash
down

the apple with some more
dandelion root.

 

 

*the china doll in us – rumi, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

slicing through a sweet

my listening to David Whyte speak
through the laptop speaker
from a youtube video,
is truncated by the strokes of my knife on the cutting board
slicing through a sweet potato

         we shape ourselves to fit this world

and i pause to better hear

       and by the world are shaped again

and even though i have never heard his voice before, i can hear my voice in his voice, and what he is saying sounds all too familiar because i
had been the one who recited his poem
for a small open mic, in a library overlooking a lake surrounded by white pines
just in the spring.