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How these things are forgotten

In “The Bowl of Roses” (full text below), the poet Rilke spends eight lines painting an ugly picture. And then: But now you know how these things are forgotten: for here before you stands a bowl full of roses… Thus begin sixty-four exquisite lines of instruction on how these things are forgotten. Eight lines of discarded gazes and pure hate […]

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A rain poem

The Favor (for Cookie the neighbor cat) I said, “May I pet you? What an honor it would be.” You replied with some drawn-out “mmm” syllable of complaint as if it cost you money to arch your back up to meet my hand, as if you were not free to run back out into the rain.

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Handmade (a poem about evidence)

I gaze at the heavens, searching for you, my God. (Ps. 123:1, ICEL Psalter) Handmade Barefoot in the dirt outside our tent in the dark, I bend back my head and open my heart to the sky. I hope to see heaven unravel, galaxies take up the thread then spin, then snap as larger, more practiced hands pull spacetime taut […]

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Boot of +10 Depression

Painting of yellow boot, © Katarina Stenstedt

Early this year I had a short episode of almost-but-not-quite depression, and it arrived along with an image of what happens for me during the worst of those times, which hasn’t happened for almost 20 years: A giant boot descends and plants itself on my chest, and I’m unable to move or negotiate. It’s enormous, it’s simply there, and it’s […]

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