The Practice

Interstitial Interstices 

Posted in A Writing Life, The Practice on

They look like architectural drawings
these two words
Maps of pathways between things
all columns and arches
inviting us to enter into
—what—
the thing between everything
the you inside you
the imperfect chink in the crystal lattice
the weeds…
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The Practice-Pant

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On the surface, it is a short breath. But it is so much more. My dog pants to let me know things. He pants in front of the door to let me he has to go outside. He pants with…
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The Practice-Shard

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Is it always a shattered bit with a knife-like edge? No, I don’t think so… On the beach, I used to find bits of glass so soft and rounded that I didn’t believe they were glass. They were jewels. The…
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The Practice-Sanguine

Posted in A Writing Life, The Practice on

Those joker doctors
Such godlike wisdom
Dividing us by humors:
Slow moving, Phlemy people
Predisposed to unexcitability
Got Phlegmatic.
The Bilious,
Whether from the Melancholy black or
Choleric yellow stuff
Were ill tempered.
Wouldn’t you be?
But the ruddy,
Apple…
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The Practice-Cleave

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Did it begin with the butcher
Or the lost soul?
Was the slicing first
or the joining?
These conundrums of beginnings
These chickens with their eggs
Same chicken but which came first?
Were we ever whole
Or did we begin…
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The Practice-Treacle

Posted in A Writing Life, The Practice on

It began in Greece as Theriakos—
A wild animal with teeth that tore holes in flesh.
Then it became Theriake and turned into a goopy serum
Poured into the gashes and wounds.
The Romans imported it as Theriaca
And repackaged…
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