What knocks
the wind
out of you?
Bad news
or good,
a fright,
a long-
held
breath
of
grief
or joy
raveling
from the gut?
Keep the middle
way, they say—
though nothing
much ever happens
in that vacant nest.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- The season turns again
- Hyperphagia
- We woke and the world was colder,
- Own
- Excerpts
- Malarkey
- I wanted the taste of bitter greens
- Grief
- Autumn
- Cleft
- Decorum
- Sibilant Ghazal
- Hokkaido
- October
- Kabayan
- Thence
- Savasana
- Life Skills
- Dear Naga Buddha,
- Notes to/on the plagiarist
- The Empress of Malcolm Square
- Prelude
- 4 Etchings
- In One and the Same Moment
- Wayang Kulit
- Exit Interview (excerpt)
- And ever
- Openwork
- Necessity
- Canción sin fin
- Pavor Nocturnus
- If only the wind now dresses the trees
- Hinge
- November
- Elegy, even after 22 years
- Fleeting
- Osteon
- Outlast
- The years teach much that the days never know*
- Thin fog, as in the corners of a tintype—
- Resist