Saturday, December 27, 2008


Wild, tangled hair slopping over jacket’s edge
Chapped skin, cracked feet, broken nails
Mortifying bruises on the hand, arm, thigh
Badges of honor
My mum would be appalled

Small actions ring deep, filling up my soul:
• Snug wrap of cuff around my wrist
• Snick of plug in socket
• Settling of chin in mask
• Slap of hand on thigh


When did sweat become the smell of happiness?


My leg throbs, a warm and gentle ache
Reassurance—if that’s the worst, then all is well


Driving home
A wordless rumination on
What worked and did not work
Water for the whetstone
Honing practice

No comments:

Post a Comment