Undo (Revolution In The Garden With Eliana and Noa)


To tire,
to tire,
to sink down,
a huddle of wilting bones

to be borne up again
by friends.

to stay hip-cocked, ornery
and still, still
breathe deep into the belly.

undo this world, please.

undo every lethal gas attack
the hoarding of clean air
the systematic flogging of our dead
and our living
and our in-betweens in prison,
now on strike, who knows how long.
i know that to undo would mean me too
me this bit of spinach stuck in the teeth of god
and of course that is ok.

here, let me

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The Buddha On Flowers

Death sweeps away

The person obsessed

With gathering flowers,

As a great flood sweeps away a sleeping village.

The person obsessed

With gathering flowers,

Insatiable sense pleasures,

Is under the sway of Death.

As a bee gathers nectar

And moves on without harming

The flower, its color, or its fragrance,

Just so should a sage walk through a village.

—The Dhammapada, translation by Gil Fronsdale


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Flowers, mom and dad at a dog park in Napa.

Obsession with sense pleasures be darned, getting outdoors today was such a relief.

Out Of Doors In Vermont

IMG_4363At 2am, after driving 11 hours straight on a cold and thankfully snowless night, I arrived in Vermont to a sharp and loving sign on the door of my friend Dana’s house.  Before going to bed with the front door unlocked, Dana had convinced her partner Victor to turn up the heat so that I “wouldn’t become a Katie popsicle.”   Logistical kindnesses, plus the magic of Dana’s grandmother’s down quilt (go to bed chilly; wake up toasty) … I am indeed a lucky one.

Hard to believe it’s my final semester of grad school at Goddard, in Plainfield, VT.  Some of you might even remember when I started, three years ago.

On campus, between preparing for my portfolio / thesis semester and keeping up with work for Turning Wheel, it’s been heavy on indoor and computer time.  Grateful that the blog pushes me to get outside, even with my cold-wimp self.

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