Home would feel like home, though
I have no home
wherever it was
I am homeless. This is my condition
if there was a you and me in it.
Tag: Poetry
Secret
I think about it sometimes
when I am driving.
I think about crashing
in reverse. The smell of metal
scraping against a concrete wall
in a basement parking lot.
I think about the lie I told my parents:
And the other lie I never told them.
I think about truth
when I am driving and what
might have happened to the secret
had I kept it.
Announcing a new column on District Lit
I’m giddy with excitement to let you know my first feature column went up on District Lit yesterday. “My Time, Your Place” is an ongoing exploration of the boundaries between reality and dream, time and timelessness, place and wandering. (The title is borrowed in part from the Yehuda Amichai poem, “In My Time, In Your Place.”)
I hope you check it out from time to time, and share with your friends if the writing moves you to do so.
As a tribute to Amichai, whose poetry inspires me in so many ways, here is the poem the title references.
One true thing
A thing
grew inside me once.
This was during a time I can’t return to.
Not that I want to return
except on days I do want to
in order to observe the thing growing
with a wholeness I grew inside me in the time
since.
