I journal in prose
I practice in poetry

The difference for me
Is theory and practice

Two Chinese characters
depict the word ‘poem’
Word temple

You can’t make a poem
Without reverence for the

Pause

For sure I am a novice
Inexperienced with edits

Too loose with the rules
Unbalanced
intellect and empathy

Loose with form,
no rhyme, not finding my
rhythm

Until balance marries
My theory and practice

I swing on the pendulum
Wide with blissful abandon

Intoxicated in deep breaths
Shared with strangers

Light headed
Light hearted

Playfully avoiding debates
Over what belongs
And what doesn’t

Inside temples
Between temples

One breath for
Emphasis

One breath for
Reverence

A long sustained

Pause

Because now
More than ever

The norm seems to be
Nothing is sacred

Insert Inhale
Release Exhale

With a long wide
Arc atop
the pendulum
fly free

From the theories that
raised me
the voices that
caged me

Transcending the prose of my
journal, the wind in my face
forcing gasps into spaces

Lifting
veils
Removing
bypasses
Shattering
armor
Revealing
excuses

Word
Temple
Everything
Sacred

May the norm of this era
Stay one breath away from

what matters most
To me
Each one
Everyone
Sacred

Huge thanks to Richard Wingfield’s gracious use of his extraordinary class notes. Even bigger thanks to him for introducing me to Bill Kerley, back when my hair was dark….