Partisans

They would transport photoless false identity cards (they would not know how many they were carrying) from Vilne to Hrodno, a routine trip. They would make contact in three days (they would not know their contact's name), which would give them time to pack carefully. They would make their way through Ponar, using the skills they’d been trained in and their own cunning, and head south. Both sisters had Aryan features and would be dressed as Aryans in kerchiefs, and both would speak German, which they had learned as children from their grandmother. Even when they were two alone, speaking to each other, they would speak German to eliminate a possible error of intuition or habit (they would not know who was listening). They packed their rucksacks together, sharing where they could and providing advice, one to the other. The older would carry the hairbrush and tooth powder; the younger took both extra pairs of bulky wool socks. In the morning, each would receive a starless coat and a packet of life to hide under her skirts, and they would walk away into the unknowable woods.

I Did Say Yes

found poem from "The Wreck of the Deutschland" (part the first)
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

O at lightening and lashed rod
the swoon of a heart
astrain with leaning of, laced with fire
fled with a sling of the heart
to the heart
from the flame to the flame then, tower

soft sift in an hourglass
kiss my hand
lovely - asunder
out of bliss springs the stress felt
hushed by, hearts are flushed by
the faithful waver, the faithless fable

only the heart being hard at bay
is out with it
brim, in a flash, full!
Thou art lightening and love
and fondler of heart
dark descending

Poem Without an End by Yehuda Amichai

translated by Chana Bloch

Inside the brand-new museum
there’s an old synagogue.
Inside the synagogue
is me.
Inside me
my heart.
Inside my heart
a museum.
Inside the museum
a synagogue,
inside it
me,
inside me
my heart,
inside my heart
a museum

Mirror Year Mantra

do the work
let it go
fearless energy

pruning rosemary by moonlight,
my fingers' pungent glow
makes me miss you all the more

three peacocks on the lawn
eat poppies and lantana
then click clack down the lane

strength in secret
chooses lower case
with purpose and repeatedly

found poem

a secretary is the person
you trust with your secrets.
But the clerk,

Tribute's Two Sides

a gift, testimonial, compliment or the like,
given as due or in esteem; a stated sum
paid or exacted as a price of peace

found poem

At the moment, your dream machine is running at full strength
and conditions are favorable to get the vibes rippling out into the world.
You're about to find out how much you have done right

surrounding curves create patterns
followed by eyes, breath and sometimes fingers
in night's quiet state

healthy children, reading
& waiting in Sunday pajamas
for French toast

a stranger's fresh grief
flows freely with awareness
of beauty and gratitude

A Silly Little Primer That's Not Half Bad

Huff Post Books: Everything You Need To Know About Poetry

partially found poem

how the internet is like a human heart:
it is a giant machine designed
to give people what they want

make time for truth
and do not rue
for there is no end

photo courtesy of NASA

can't stop remembering today

fear on the futon, life in my belly

death all around

do not be lured down the path
you have already turned from;
walk with purpose in your true life

unexpected teaching:
tree and lampost reach together
toward heaven

these appointments approaching ours
are both inconsequential
and of supreme importance

a poet's death reminds me -
do not waste time.
every step matters

sometimes the best thing you can do
is something
for yourself

love is not perfect
but it can be
just right

a return to stretching may
have an added surprise ~
you are farther along than you realized

it's too easy to be glitter eyed
by image glut, so
close your eyes

Yetzer Ha'Rah

the predictable return of worry
and compromise is an invitation
to motivation inclination

in the rain of paper hearts
we screamed and sang and danced
a memory into being

through dark slats
awaiting your return
to this learning place

Coleman Barks reading Rumi

sometimes we'd rather live
in less vulnerable skin,
but good work is a salve