Boxes

Packing a life into boxes; big boxes, littles boxes
some heavy, some light.
This box is marked fragile, that takes two to lift it.

Inside the boxes: books, papers, art, trinkets
some memorable, some expensive.
This box is overflowing.

I pack away my old life, feeling slightly claustrophobic -- how will it breathe?
My hands are empty and my arms are open for a new life
to live out of the boxes.

---

It's an odd thing to watch your home become a series of boxes stacked in an empty room. It makes it seem as if we are only an accumulation of things -- a good reminder that there is more to life than stuff. And yet, it's amazing how stuff can be the physical representation of a memory, a loved one, a passion. We fill our homes with reminders and declarations of who we are, so what happens to us when we pack that away?

River

Long days lead into long nights filled with long thoughts --

My mind a swirling brook spilling over stone and rushing into wells,

eddying in shimmering waves at the edges. 

---

It can be hard to shut my brain off, especially after a week onsite, lots of work to do, and a delayed flight. And, as expected, the move is on my mind. At momwnts like this i tey to breathe, take a step back and fond the beauty in the racinf of my mind. 

Seaport

The boat is in the harbor. Skeleton arms spread out against the sky. 

He breathes in the salty air mingled with wet 

cobblestone and dirt. 

Happy for a bed and a bath while in port, but homesick nonetheless. 

Home is aboard ship and on the seas, battling the force of nature and 

free like the stars. 

---

Today I saw a rainbow spread out across the sky over the boats at rhe South Street Seaport. To think that boats have been docking here for over 300 years...amazing. 

New York, New York

Back in the city

of cities. I'll always love you

my New York, New York. 

---

This is my second to last trip to the city and its making me appreciate how incredibly lucky to get to visit this amazing city. 

Waves

There are no sounds inside me, not audible ones at least. 

But there is a steady vibration coming from somewhere in my chest, a throbbing tempo 

and I cling to it.

A pressure is building, it is growing 

in my chest, in my throat, behind my eyes. 

It ebbs and flows to that throbbing tempo, like soft ocean waves. 

Sometimes it swells like the sea and I am afraid it will break and crash down on me and I will drown. 

I am afraid that my emotions will swallow me whole -- wreck the ship, leaving splintered wood and debris.

 ---

Life changes are hard work. I find myself struggling daily with this emotional roller coaster that I am on. But someone told me to ride it out, see where it goes -- it'll all work out. And I do believe that is true. My whole life has been a series blessed events that have lined up and worked out beautifully. 

But life, like art, doesn't happen easily or by accident, it is the process of taking your soul apart piece by piece to examine it and then put it back together.

Wash away

I love the sound of the rain as I fall asleep; 

I can hear it washing away the dust from my soul. 

---

A soft spring rain is falling and i have the windows open. This is the perfect, soothing lullaby after a weekend of emotional ups and downs. I need the falling rain to help purge the anxiety and stress that lingers after the always emerging thoughts of packing up my lofe and movie halfway across the world. 

Prologue

Starting the story -- a blank page, a new landscape. 

I'll write myself a bright eyed heroine, standing on the edge

with arms, heart, wide open. 

A resilient woman, she'll struggle. 

She'll stumble and fall, but always get back up and smile at the sky. 

A successful character, she'll relish the change. 

She'll take it in like a breath of cool air on a starry night. 

---

In less than two months I will be boarding a plane to start a new chapter of my life -- in the Netherlands. I am beyond thrilled to have this opportunity; a chance to see the world, learn a new language, discover new friends, and broaden my horizons. Living abroad has always been a dream of mine and I still can't believe it's coming true. Pinch me. 

With all of this excitement comes plenty of anxiety and fear. This is a huge change. I'm leaving an amazing life in Madison. and most of all I packing up my entire life and doing it in under 2 months. Thats a lot to wrap my head around. So, for now, I'm just taking it one day at a time. Just like April, one poem at a time. 

Stay tuned for more info and updates on this crazy adventure. 

I'm with the band

Out with the band, it's

officially tomorrow. 

Enjoying the night. 

---

Having a night out with my brother and Cody Canada and the Departed. More tomorrow. 

Abstract?

The world was turning today, spinning like an oversized top. 

I staggered a bit, searching for my balance -- I found butterflies instead. 

I hear the tulips are lovely this time of year. 

---

An abstract poem, perhaps. I've been sitting on some big news and it's scary and life altering and incredibly exciting. But you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out. 

The long day

The bus is on the road after information overload

and my feet hurt. 

Almost home, just about bed time -- nighty night. 

Wake me up when the sun is high. 

---

It was a long, but fascinating day at HIMSS15. After 3 hours of sleep, a 4:30am start for Chicago, 7 hours on a bus (both ways), and 8 hours at the conference I'm ready for some serious Z's. 

'Night

Lists

Things We Lose

bobby pins

bets

teenage innocence

sense of direction

pennies

pens

trains of thought

touch

points of reference

points of contact 

sense of self 

sight

small children in Walmart

small children inside us

glasses

keys

minds

tempers

chapstick

Things We Find

our way

cash in the pocket of old jeans

god

love

the perfect dress

the perfect gift

old photos

funny things

peace

happy thoughts

hiding places

buried treasure

success

small children in Walmart

old birthday cards

the answer to a crossword puzzle 

time

---

Looking back through old journal entries I found a pair of list poems. I've been making lots of lists lately so it seemed appropriate to add them here. 

What would you add to these lists? 

Magnolia

White blossoms on the Magnolia, 

sweet and soft as a cotton dress hung to dry and rippling in the wind. 

---

Short and sweet today. A snapshot of a quiet moment I had this afternoon when I stepped out the front door of the office to see two magnolia trees in full bloom. I forgot how they smell like spring. 

Season 5

A feast fit for kings! 

Or crows I suppose you could

say. What happens next?

Halfman in a box,

drinking away his sorrows

as long as there's wine. 

Mother of dragons 

disappeared or locked away 

That was a mistake. 

---

Tonight was the return of Game of Thrones, so I wrote you some haikus. Did you enjoy the episode as much as we did?

Home

How I built a home.

It wasn’t with bricks or logs. It wasn’t even the slow, but steady accumulation of stuff -- pictures, dishes, canned vegetables. 

I built a home on the backs of 

sturdy, loving people who smiled kindly at me when I made mistakes. 

I built a home with laughter and tears shared with family, old and new.

Or maybe I didn’t build it; I grew it.

Planted seeds in unknown soil and prayed for rain. I covered it 

in blankets through the cold winters and hoped it would survive until spring. 

And after a few years it took. 

My home sprouted and grew, tall and leafy with plenty of shade to shelter me.

A sturdy home with deep roots. 

----

It has been an emotion few days and I've had lots to ponder. I keep coming back to the thought of home and how important my life in Madison has become, how happy I am here with such wonderful friends and family surrounding me. It's surprising how easily I put down roots and how good it feels.

Scotch

Smoke and caramel. Highlands and sea.

Simple life, complex history. 

Just a wee touch to keep you warm. 

How it rolls off the tongue. 

----

I found a whiskey bar in Madison, so naturally it was a Friday night of scotch flights. I can hear the pipes calling me back. 

A recipe for art

Take the embers from a human soul and breath life into the coals. The best sort of encouragement is love. Breath softly at first, fill your lungs slowly and feel the fullness of air in the body. Let it nourish and stoke the embers, stirring passion. Once the fire is roaring, release it. Let everything you touch catch fire. Let the world burn with awe and wonder as you let the wildfire run rampant wherever you go. 

----

Thinking about how we feed our souls and share them with the world. Story telling is more than books and films; it's living your most honest life. 

Deep thoughts for a Thursday. 

Boston

Crab and lobster and

chowdah make for quite the feast. 

I'm never waking up. 

----

Even when you work 12 hour shifts it's important to eat right. So when in Boston, eat seafood! 

Food coma. 

Daily geology

The day's tasks seem small. 

But grains of sand, when stacked together become rocks; Sandstone, limestone, loess. 

A multitude of small tasks can be metamorphosed -- under heat and pressure a day of simple 

tasks becomes a mountain.  

----

A long day at work + an unfailing love of geology = poetry 

Flight Delays

Flight delays are fine

if you eat lunch with the fam. 

Better make the game. 

Flight delays aren't fine

when you'll miss tip off. Nice try

with first class Delta. 

----

Missing the first 45 minutes of the game due to flight delays. I'll be pregaming from first class in all my red. 

Go Bucky!

Purple bud

A purple bud poked it's soft head from the ground 

today. I saw it out of the corner of my eye 

as I walked by. 

A small rebellion of color within an 

empty landscape. 

The flower took a silent, solitary stand against the 

barren season of winter. 

A single voice to rise above the cacophony of 

dried fields and skeletal trees. 

----

Spring is coming in earnest. I saw it today and it made me smile. 

Happy Easter!

On Wisconsin!

Bring on the screaming fans and squeaking shoes

on waxed wood floors. Time for the Final Four!

On Wisconsin!

Warming up, staking out spots at the bar.

Talking smack, taking shots, order me a beer.

On Wisconsin!

Tip off, start the clock, here we go!

On Wisconsin!

Back and forth, offense, defense…

DEFENSE!

On Wisconsin!

Clenching fists, biting nails – I don’t think I can watch.

C’mon boys, go, go, go!

On Wisconsin!

We might just do this, we’re so close, 1:00 left.

Hold on, hold on, hold on!

We did it!

On Wisconsin!

----

In all the excitement of yesterday I didn't post. Sad. I'm not even a week into Nation Poetry Month and I have already missed a day.

Well in honor of our amazing Badger Basketball Boys, here is a poem that I think sums up my evening yesterday. 

I'll post again tonight. Happy Easter!

On Wisconsin!

Summer sounds

Summer is a symphony of midnight storms played by an improvised orchestra. 

Raindrops on a tin roof set 

a syncopated 

rhythm. Percussion. 

Slowly, softly the strings come in. 

Then the winds through the trees. 

A sweet oboe solo drifts above the rolling thunder of a 

brass baseline              in the distance. 

It must be a marching band that plays; they 

grow softer as they 

float           away              with the parade. 

----

I've been thinking about summer lately. Looking forward to sleeping with the windows open and listening to the sound to summer storms. 

Bread

Bubbles in the dough, sticky. 

Stretch the heartstrings of flour and yeast, but don't 

break them. 

Let it rest, breathe in air like a balloon and

rise, billowing. 

The oven is hot. Don't let it burn you up, rather 

let the yeasty heart grow warm and soft, pillowing

within a golden shell. 

Breathe in the air like a balloon and 

taste the fresh baked bread. 

----

Among my friends I'm famous for my bread. It's fun to bake and nothing beats the smell of a fresh loaf straight from the oven. 

April Fools

It's the nicest day

And of course I've got the flu

Happy April Fools!

-----

I forgot how much the stomach flu sucks. It's especially bad when it's 75 and sunny. 

Only a haiku today, but at least spring is here. 

Dear Poetry

Dear Poetry,

The weather is turning again and I am looking forward to sunny days. Every shifting of seasons makes me think of you. Your wisdom always makes change easier – a constant comfort as I navigate new waters.

But, as change does, it grabs my attention and holds it captive. I have not seen your form in a long time and I am sorry for that. I wish I could erase the space between journal entries so nothing was lost to a blank page.

Regardless of regret, you are still with me. I can feel your words swirling inside my brain – images dance before my eyes to remind me of you. A beckoning echo in my ear.

Soon I will float back to you on a clear spring breeze. After many months of wandering we will hold each other and paint a picture of the space between – create a bridge between then and now so we can pretend we were always near.

Thank you for your constancy, for your presence over this year. Thank you for filling my mind with joy and for teaching me to love myself and keep writing.

Love,

Me

________

April is nearly here and you know what means...National Poetry Month.

I always look forward to April because, for me, it is a guaranteed 30 days of writing. Life is so full of distractions, both beautiful and regrettable, and it is too easy for me to say "I'll sit down and write soon", but never do it. 

Writing is my "spiritual food", as my dad would put it. It nourishes my soul and is a practice in listening to my "little voice". Sometimes I don't listen very well, practice is always needed.

So April serves as a whole month of practice, and nourishment. Isn't that fitting for spring? A time of rebirth and growth. My poetic renaissance. 

Here's to 30 days of storytelling, form wrestling, and heart pouring. Cheers.