I Want to Write Something So Simply

I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it be my story
it will be common,
though it be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think—
no, you will realize—
that it was all the while
yourself arranging the words,
that it was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your own heart
had been saying.

Mary Oliver
Evidence

Thirst: In the Clear

The settlers are moving back. The smoke is clear; the rain came today. I spent a novel week in Newport Beach with little Rachie in her new digs. I made three visits to Paper Source and at least four to Pacific Whey Cafe, both Crystal Cove and South Coast. Shameful to some, obvious to others. Must recommend the crème brulée bread pudding and the cinnamon custard triangle.

When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention
by Mary Oliver

"As long as we are able to
be extravagant we will be
hugely and damply
extravagant. Then we will drop
foil by foil to the ground. This
is our unalterable task, and we do it
joyfully."

And they went on. "Listen,
the heart-shackles are not, as you think,
death, illness, pain,
unrequited hope, not loneliness, but

lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,
selfishness."

Their fragrance all the while rising
from their blind bodies, making me
spin with joy.