Tribute: Mary Oliver

Today is Monday.  I used to save tributes for Fridays.  But it's impossible to determine what day of the week inspiration for a tribute will strike.

The Journey

"One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life you could save."  

"to live in this world

you must be able

to do three things

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go"

— Mary Oliver

Friday Morning

across the parking lot ducks line the lake like web-footed soldiers and trees stretch enormous like dinosaurs into the sun.

Smooth Coconut Truffles

The argumentation of Jan happened in January, the day after she’d shoplifted nearly all of Godiva’s mall chocolates. She tried the Strawberry truffle first, then moved on to the Hazelnut Praliné, Double Chocolate Raspberry, Extra Dark Chocolate, Smooth Coconut, French Vanilla and Cappuccino.
The Strawberry was her favorite.

Jan’s boyfriend was against chocolate on principle, but he didn’t refuse the Smooth Coconut truffles she saved for him. He indulged, then proceeded with indifference.
Principles are complicated.

Argumentation is a lot like fragmentation in the way that they rhyme. Jan liked breaking arguments down to tiny workable fragments that she could later spread on bread like nutella.
The argumentation of Jan happened the moment she realized the difference between them. She was cold, like January, and he was June. Maybe if she had been born in July, she’d have understood the importance of principles. But being from January she only heard fragments.

About a city

Cycles of incarnations, we've all had them,
been elsewhere, lost and found ourselves.
I once lived in a loveless city where no one slept.
Like the stranger on the plane who stayed awake and said
she’d never considered my city hers.

a spiral galaxy that tastes like milk, a ship that hovers
high above the depths of Yemayá.

I once lived in a singular kind of city, painted my singulars
white and declared them pure.

That was, as you might have guessed,
before I discovered plurals.

Then I gave my singulars wings and sent them away
to live in the sun.

Your house is burning, I might’ve said.
But I suspect they already knew.

New

Welcome to the future!

Here we are new
year new day new week new decade new dreams new poems to write.
to love and inspiration!