From My Inbox

(the following was sent to me word for word as an e-mail from a beloved person.  I turned it into a found poem)

Hey you… 

That's really great to hear.

 I am feeling a lot better, too. 
Remember to be gentle and kind

 to yourself!

Forgive your leg for breaking

 and forgive yourself

 for not being perfect. 

Remember we are human. 

Each experience is

 an opportunity to

learn and grow,

as unpleasant as it may be.

I’m starting to see this light

at the end of the dark tunnel

 I’ve been in the past week.

Believe in yourself.

 Trust that you are a good person

 and a strong person.

Any fear or self-doubt

 we experience are just emotions.

They're not who we are inside.
Emotions are there

to help bring us back to ourselves.

Let them be there.
If we resist them, we get stuck there.

 Feel them and let them go. 

I’m glad my visit helped you.

 I wasn't sure if

I was any help at all.

But glad that I was.

And I think it helped me too cause

I needed to take the advice

I was giving you

for myself.

Intention

I keep meaning
to write Lili
on one of the five postcards
Matthew gave me depicting
my favorite bookstore ever.

To catch-up on my 10

undone poems

I found scheduled to be written

this month in honor of those

new to the country and learning

things have other names in English.

To reclaim

my role as returning municipal liaison

in the crazy November novel writing

extravaganza that is Nanowrimo.

I try

despite this leg

medical science says can't see

 my weight for 10 more days

(and, oh, how I am praying its no longer)

not to blame every recent shortcoming

on this injury.

It is not

the only

enitity at fault.

From the Master's Mouth

(should've been written November 3rd)

Emeril informs audience but not contestant

A hot gaucho means a one way ticket home

minus Top Chef’s covet ebony jacket

and a chance at TV fame and food glory.

Bandit Poem

(This poem should have been written November 2nd)

Mama raccoon catches zzz's
as momentary break
in cycle of teach... feed... protect
ensues.

On Breaking...

(my first Center for New Americans of 2012 for 30 Poems in 30 Days)

 

My “good” leg heals

too slowly for this eager

to be back on the front lines organizer

to tolerate…

Now that I can endure the lifting machine

with hardly an ouch

as long as an extra assistant holds my injured leg,

I imagine voting on Tuesday,

returning to my writing groups

on certain Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays,

and once again marching for justice.

I think

I survived.

Cross Cultures

I write a poem to stranger

in a country of which only

one fact is instantly recallable;

the craning of a misbehaving American collegiate.

At same time,

I wonder why Republicans

never say, “God bless Earth.”

instead of “God bless America.”

For new to me poet and I

both share this planet,

but only I live in America.

Yet,I feel

we each deserve blessings.