Two births in one day

I know that sounds strange, but it’s true, and I can’t really talk about the other birth; it’s a creative birth, happened right in front of me, on line, in real-time, and I was a midwife.  And that sounds very self-serving.  I will be still and just post part of what I wrote for the occasion.


being a bard

you write even when your heart

can’t be in it

the people depend on

the story and song you bring them

without story the people die

and without song

they don’t remember the story


the bard can’t always be there


facing illness


ill-temper in others

and whatever griefs and shames

and inversions of purpose

may be the bard’s



you think you have

a dry stick in your hand

you strike the earth and water comes up

and you have a hand on a tree

and sun in your eyes through the leaves


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Born 1958. Not dead yet.

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