Up, up, and away

You make a careless remark,

And away I go.

I am here, but not here

My legs keep walking

In time to your stride

But my heart is racing

Far ahead

Onwards, and up

Then, liftoff

Into the silent void

Where the gravity of careless words

Cannot weigh me down.


On Fire

A fresh start,
An open heart
To welcome 2013.

This morning, while looking through my pack rat stash of magazine clippings, letters, postcards, and yellowed Sunday comics (hello again, Calvin and Hobbes!), I stumbled upon this poem by Susan Wooldridge (from the book Poemcrazy) that a poet friend had sent me eons ago. Every time I read it, it sparks a burning desire to write, and now I’d like to share it with you:


Ishi, a Yashi
loved matches,
how easily they strike fire.
Words on paper
have no apparent glow.
Ishi called them bird tracks on white bark.
But words on white paper
can move from mind to mind
like flames from roof to roof in wind
not one word spoken.