Going on Stories

Glancing in the rearview mirror at the years behind me, looking at what disappears when I go around a bend or up a hill then down and the past is gone until I stop to look back at the choices that I’ve made and listen to the voices rising in me when I sit still in the dark, my headlights off, the gearshift in park, and I remember wondering which way to go when I didn’t have a map or know where I was or where to turn and n...

 Many great ideas are accidents--so are melodies and first lines of poemsand how about the dreamsyou bump into in the middle of the nightthat wake you with what you need to know.Sometimes, heading west, blinded by the glaring sun,you barely miss a head-on crash and stop,hands on the steering wheel, learning what a gift your breath is.And some mornings sitting here,the movie of my life plays backwardsand looking at the scr...

Being older doesn’t make me any less a kid still holding what was precious then, though now they’re tarnished and I must confess dulled by these aging hands and yet, again and again I hold those ideals to the light— sometimes the sun, sometimes the turning moon-- looking for that sparkle, that radiant sight, and again I want the warmth of noon, the sweetness of the air, the tender breeze of dreaming what could be, so full...