The History of Love
May 26, 2014, 7:38 pm
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re-reading a favorite, “…An average of seventy-four species become extinct every day, which was one good reason but not the only one to hold someone’s hand…” -Nicole Krauss


May 24, 2014, 7:37 am
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“And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth, ‘You owe me.’ Look what happens with love like that. It lights up the sky.” ― Rumi

May 23, 2014, 10:32 pm
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Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud; Otherwise, someone would call the cops.

 Still though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.

 Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, with that sweet moon language, what every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

from “for women who are ‘difficult’ to love” -warsan shire
May 23, 2014, 10:24 pm
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and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do, love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

On Jennifer Luebbers -“Ave”
May 20, 2014, 9:56 pm
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I think too about the hands, the hands as something that can harm or heal, hold or push away. How hands have the power to break or fracture; how also they are capable of weaving or braiding together. It is, after all, the pain of brokenness out of which we can experience the beauty of wholeness. How even as a relationship with my faith may have changed from when I was young, there is a fidelity, a deep love that is almost primal, that bonds me to Catholicism even as I am deeply troubled by it, or feel confined by and disagree with many of its tenants. Writing this poem allowed me to articulate and in a sense discover what I think I’ve known in my heart all along. That is, what is most important: the imperfect yet unconditional love that causes a mother to do what she does for her daughter; the deep history of a faith that is larger than oneself, that extends backward and forward from a life. I wanted to pay homage to that complicated, wild, protective, powerful, abiding love.

poem here


poem I wrote sitting across the table from you -Kevin Varrone

(the last line made me gasp)


if I had two nickels to rub together
I would rub them together

like a kid rubs sticks together
until friction made combustion

and they burned

a hole in my pocket

into which I would put my hand
and then my arm

and eventually my whole self––
I would fold myself

into the hole in my pocket and disappear

into the pocket of myself, or at least my pants

but before I did

like some ancient star

I’d grab your hand

May 11, 2014, 10:12 pm
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“On behalf of her children whom she so abrasively exposed to her evil and violent life, we celebrate her passing from this earth and hope she lives in the after-life reliving each gesture of violence, cruelty, and shame that she delivered on her children.”