Dive Into Poetry


    March 23, 2017

    Back in the garden:
    Three stone slabs,
    trees bending in close

    but not too close.
    Ranunculus flowers,
    orange blooms.

    A bird on a step,
    a small creek below.
    And beyond that,

    an open green space
    where my child
    was playing.

    I was so happy here,
    finally home, my own
    place, my own garden.

    I called the child
    to come, let’s follow
    the stream.

    It led to a street
    we drove down,
    a wasteland

    of failed suburbs
    at a concrete wall.

    Both of my kids
    and I agreed
    not to go

    that way again,
    then turned back
    to the garden.

    All day, I sat
    in one place,
    picturing paradise

    lost in fatigued
    thoughts about
    buying and selling

    and how lovely
    it was to return
    to where even

    the fruit was free
    for the taking.
    I wonder now

    if this garden
    lives within me
    or if someday

    I will know it
    when I see it,
    exclaim out loud,

    there it is
    and make an offer
    on the spot

    where I was
    given my name:
    Chava, Eve.

    National Poetry Month is right around the corner. Refuel your spirit after a long winter with Dive Into Poetry, a month-long celebration of poetry, April 1-30. Tiered pricing and all welcome!

  • Real Life

    The Perils of Nowherelandia

    March 21, 2017

    I dreamed about a misused apostrophe. It occurs to me that this is my subconscious way of finding things within my control, when the fact is that most things are not. I can control what I put…

  • Dive Into Poetry Writing Groups

    Where Does the Sky Begin?

    March 13, 2017

    Where does the sky begin? Empiricists say, “Right under your feet.” For additional answers, look within. Ask a child and you’re in for grin. With that kind of logic, you can’t compete. Where does the sky…

  • Creative Process The Body

    It Was Only a Matter of Time

    March 9, 2017

    It was only a matter of time. Twenty-eight days, to be more specific. Only a matter of 28 days before I’d stand up against the wall I’ve come to know so well. This wall is pock-marked,…

  • Creative Process

    Walking Thoughts: Why Bother Writing?

    March 2, 2017

    While Pearl was at her piano lesson, I went for a walk on the country roads around her teacher’s house. I’d been holed up all day against a wild wind, and although the temperature has swung…