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Come with me into the expansive gift of poetry to experience a disruption of habitual ways of thinking and perceiving. The magic of poetry happens when it is spoken, heard and felt as vibrations in your body.

In this blog I offer you heartfelt, homemade recordings of some of my favorite poems. I invite you also to spend time with their pulsing vibrations and pregnant pauses, to savor the luscious sensual syllables on your tongue, and to feel the subtle changes in your being as you play with the poems.

Listen, read and then slowly speak them out loud. The medicine of poetry will endlessly surprise and delight you as a portal into your own wild multidimensionality!

Sign up to receive poems weekly

A Meeting

6/26/2022

 
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​She steps into the dark swamp
where the long wait ends.

The secret slippery package
drops to the weeds.

She leans her long neck and tongues it
between breaths slack with exhaustion

and after a while it rises and becomes a creature
like her, but much smaller.

So now there are two. And they walk together
like a dream under the trees.

In early June, at the edge of a field
thick with pink and yellow flowers

I meet them.
I can only stare.

She is the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen.

Her child leaps among the flowers,
the blue of the sky falls over me

like silk, the flowers burn, and I want
to live my life all over again, to begin again,

to be utterly
wild.

​    - Mary Oliver


i thank You God for most this amazing, for Summer Solstice

6/19/2022

 
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Dancing Tree Spirits by annie b.

​​i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings;and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

​    - e.e. cummings

Sorrow Is Not My Name, for Spring Equinox

3/20/2022

 
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​—after Gwendolyn Brooks

No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.

--for Walter Aikens

    - by Ross Gay


Glimpse

2/13/2022

 
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Glimpse by Cindy Wood
www.cindywoodart.com

​It was as if a window suddenly blew open
and the sky outside the mind came flooding in.
My childhood shriveled to a close,
just like that, thread of smoke
that rose and touched a cloud - or the cloud’s
replica adrift on the slow river of thinking -
and disappeared inside it. In that dark water,
a new lily was opening, sky-white out of the muck.
It was only a glimpse, quick,
like a bird ruffling,
but I saw the flower’s
beautiful stark shape, an artichoke
brightened from within by the moon.
A path lay shadowy under my feet,
and I followed it.

    - Chase Twichell

The Scripture of Circle

1/30/2022

 
Picture
Female Strength by Helena Arturaleza Schotman

There is no refuge 
No destination 
No resolution 
Only This

Blessed are the fruit of my womb 
Blessed are the cycles that have no end
Blessed is the Wound 
Blessed is the Hole 

Blessed is the space that holds you always 
Blessed is this unfinished life 
Blessed is the eternal and unchanging
Blessed are we who bear the unbearable 
who carry our cross from first to last breath 

Blessed are we who know the relentless mercy of the 
Mysterious Other 
known only when we sacrifice our reaching 

There is no refuge 
No destination 
No resolution 
Only This

To you who are the Birther of Samsara 
and the doorway to Nirvana 
To you whose Love 
is the bridge that flows between them 
To you who holds the mirror of perfection 
inside the crack of imperfection 
whose Road leads nowhere and is everywhere 

To you whose breast is the refuge of no refuge 
To you whose passion dissolves all ignorance 
and whose innocence reveals unstained beauty 
​
Enveloped by your Grace
With nowhere to go
Around and around 
Heart to the Ground

Here
I
am 

-Maya Luna

Funeral for a Future

9/12/2021

 
Picture
Painting by Colleen Koziara, www.mysticalwillow.com

I held a funeral for a future
I had always thought was coming,
and buried the world's face as yet.

The silence then
turned me so tiny
the only way forward was to dream
downward

to an early day on earth
before a single heart beat.
The atmosphere filled
with an abiding, cataclysmic knowing-

that if everything
could be born,

every
thing
could
be
born.

Love promises no less.

But a future is gone now.
All we are is this.

Our way could be
to fall toward the medicine
seeded right inside
the untamable, fertile grief
remaking things.

-  Brooke McNamara

Food and Water

7/4/2021

 
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The Dreamer by Shanti Bennett


Sit yourself kindly down
and begin to breathe
 
with and as
the ache of being,
instead of above it.
 
Remember your first questions.
 
Enduring and unanswerable,
they can make you
curiosity again.
 
Gently,
 
allow your heart to hand you
every last piece
of who you truly are.
 
This is the food you’ve been hungry for.
 
This is the water that will quench.
 
Softly you dissolve
into an undomesticated friendship
with your world.
 
Enter into it again
with that quiet quivering
in your now more-human heart,
 
and let an uncaused joy
come out of your eyes --
so the others feel it,
 
so it’s all of ours
to eat and drink and share.

    -Brooke McNamara

Instructions on Not Giving Up

5/2/2021

 
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Photo by Rezaul Islam. Used with permission.



More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor's
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it's the greening of the trees
that really gets to me.  When all the shock of white 
and taffy, the world's baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come.  Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty.  Fine then,
I'll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I'll take it all.

​    - Ada Limon

Quietness

2/14/2021

 
Picture
Drawing by Erika Grimm Vance


Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like somebody suddenly born
​into color.
Do it now.
You're covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side.  Die,
and be quiet.  Quietness is the surest sign
that you've died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.

The speechless full moon
comes out now.

    - Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

The World Began with Yes

1/3/2021

 
Picture
Trinity Seay, "First Breath"
​
One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born
.
- Clarice Lispector

It was always yes, si, da, ja
the sibilant sound of assent,
the slippery tongue in the mouth 
of the lover, the da dawning,
the ya yelling,
the si, si, si, sugary & sweet
between jagged teeth.

It was always yes,
come in, welcome, eat me,
merge with me, love,
let’s join to make another 
little bubble of us 
who will seem like us combined 
but turn out to be another.

It was always lust 
not to be lonely,
lust for the apple, the pomegranate,
fruit of desire,
dense on the tongue,
making another you,
another me.

Oh love, eat me, I am yours,
fill my emptiness with joy,
with yes, da, si, si, si
let us begin that way
to make a new universe,
soulful, sad, silly,
& full of seas,
seas that are salty 
& full of the stuff of life,
me, you, every wriggling creature
we can & can’t name
with alphabets as of yet unknown,
with letters that twist & turn 
& try to escape the page, the scroll, the rock,
life beginning again
with only a word 
of affirmation--yes!
Let it begin 
& Be.

    -Erica Jong

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  • Home
  • Wild Words Poetry Blog
  • Ecos de la Marea
  • About
    • About Xochitl
    • Spiritual Midwifery
    • Client Experiences
  • Services
    • The Emotion Code & The Body Code
    • Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy
    • Quantum Touch
    • Reconnective Healing
    • Death Midwifery & Home Funeral Guide
    • Animal Healing
  • Events
    • Trips & Retreats
    • Workshops
    • Ceremonies
  • Hours & Fees
  • Contact