Category Archives: Universe Inside

On this harvest moon.

Posted on September 21, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

You stopped by, asking for me, and I wasn’t here. You and May. Last night. Saffron told me. And tonight I could cry and cry. You must be tired of hearing me go on and on about family. What a … Continue reading →

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Drool with me?

Posted on September 10, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

This morning, Alison Natasi’s piece “20 Poets on the Meaning of Poetry” in Flavorwire had me drooling. It’s hard to pick a favorite from among such an abundance of riches, but number 9 from Carl Sandburg’s Tentative (First Model): Definitions of … Continue reading →

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skirt basket

Posted on February 19, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

I carried the yard in you —pebble stick bone moss cone feather string and stone— and what I could carry in you was nothing less than the world to me up and up and up the mountain bend and bend … Continue reading →

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Stallion

Posted on November 19, 2012 by elisabethwithaness

Sometimes gazing out into the universe —at a night sky, say— takes me in and in and in, just as looking in on the world of dreams and thoughts, takes me infinitely out. Oh Longing, my life feels too tight … Continue reading →

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Writing out loud

Posted on November 6, 2012 by elisabethwithaness

You latch the door. It’s your first time in the office of your new house on the floor. Leonard Cohen’s Jukebox Playlist is playing: Joni Mitchell could drink a case of you, Fats Domino found his thrill on Blueberry Hill, … Continue reading →

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