Why 37days?

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Posts filed under “Love / More”

Love your broken tooth

I don’t know the names of my teeth. Do you? Oh, sure, I know “Front Tooth” and “Back Tooth,” but that’s the extent of my dental lexicon. So, I can’t tell you the exact name of it, but I broke the Tooth- Beside- The-Front-Tooth in half a few weeks back. Did your mother ever tell you never to open a…
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What will it take?

Today, I feel the claustrophobic feeling I had when 9/11 occurred, when Katrina hit, when the tsunami swallowed people up, when I first toured Auschwitz as a teenager. It is the weight of knowing, the knowing we must all hold. Once we know, we can’t not-know. If my town were in Myanmar, given the new estimates of 78,000 dead, we…
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Missing and forever missed

Do you know exactly what you were doing and where you were twenty-eight years ago today? I do. Daddy is missing and forever missed.

She had me at “cow town”

Oh, my. I love to shop on Etsy. Real artists making art. I’ve made a conscious commitment to buy handmade. My dream is to create a small shop at 37day.net that will include only handmade objects that relate to my blog and book (did I mention I’ve written a book?), so in service to that vision, I’ve been exploring Etsy…
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Poets sound out over miles

Elephant Love Fourteen thousand pounds Shift silently Over ruts worn deep By the lure of water. A behemoth link In the tail to trunk chain, Slinking under night’s cover Toward the wide, gentle sea. Each massive foot, Distinct as a thumbprint, Hints at treetops and weather, Speaks of dry and cracked earth. Using sub-human decibels, He sounds out over miles,…
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Poets help us wish harder

Breathe-in experience,Breathe-out poetry.-Muriel Rukeyser I fervently pledged as a teenager that I would always remember how I felt then, that when I became a parent, I would remember what life was like then, what mattered then, what I worried about and laughed at then,  and what I cried over then. I could not possibly ever forget. I would remember. But…
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Poets explain history, fear, love, and moats to us

History It’s like this, the king marries a commoner, and the populace cheers. She doesn’t even know how to curtsy, but he loves her manners in bed. Why doesn’t the king do what his father did, the king’s mother wonders— those peasant girls brought in through that secret entrance, that’s how a kingdom works best. But marriage! The king’s mother…
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Poets tell us what we knew about ourselves but didn’t know we knew or rejected as too true. They also, graciously, allow for renewal.

A Purification At the start of spring I open a trenchin the ground. I put into itthe winter’s accumulation of paper,pages I do not want to readagain, useless words, fragments,errors.  And I put into itthe contents of the outhouse:light of the sun, growth of the ground,finished with one of their journeys.To the sky, to the wind, then,and to the faithful…
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Women walk through the snow barefoot – k d lang

Sorry. I just couldn’t resist. This is simply gorgeous. I wonder. Who would I walk through the snow barefoot for? You? Do they know?

Poets help us love the bump on our nose

Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own. -Salvatore Quasimodo Someone who reads 37days wrote last week to ask about my perfect life. How did it become so perfect? Mr Brilliant rushed into the room to see if I was okay. I was laughing so…
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