Look where your feet are planted, and bloom where you are.
Unknown
Look where your feet are planted, and bloom where you are.
Unknown
“The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.“
-Flannery O’Connor
I saw this car’s hand lettered sign
in its back window yesterday:
ATTENDING CHURCH.
Funny, it appeared to be parked.
And I’m surprised this car attends church at all
unless it’s saying that
under this starlit sky
whatever/wherever we are,
we are sacred and always
attending church.
Thank you to the editor of Marin Poetry Center Anthology VI for first publishing this poem.
Obrigada
What if the first word we learned
in another language
was not toilet, how much,
or even where, but instead
thank you;
would we see past lines of experience,
the stumbling of innocence,
broken teeth, exquisite eyes,
to each person’s essence,
the miracle of existence,
and be grateful for a form
that could say gracias, dhanyavaad,
tak, xìe xìe, spasibo, danke, shokran?
Thank you to the editors of Marin Poetry Center Anthology VI for publishing “Obrigada.”