I can’t pretend to understand
the workings of the heart,
but maybe generosity moves
in disguise.
The wasteland no longer
a closed fist.
My open hands trembling in the darkness.
Tending the Wasteland
Inside, Outside
She could be anyone, but she is not. She is unprotected, like me. Her exposed heart a safety hazard the world needs.
“Inside, Outside,” A Bouquet of Glass
Tending the Wasteland
You don’t get a medal when you walk through the wasteland with an open heart. And if you can’t get back to work, but you learn to live with tender tenacity, no one calls you a hero.
“Tending the Wasteland”
Channels
I opened the hidden door just under my knee, and they all trickled to my ankles. They didn’t carry bugles or weapons. You could almost call them cute. But I was not happy they had shown up again. Why not leave me, I whispered, why not leave me in peace? I wondered what they would ask next. I almost closed my ears and stuck my tongue in my eyes. But they rolled a banner down my leg and offered me a giant pineapple. Something sweet for the lady.
“Channels,” A Bouquet of Glass
For Carol, caves are more than places you can fit inside. They are openings to other worlds. Crawling through caves feels like descending into the unknown with your whole body. She hopes her poems can be like that. They may not be the easiest to pass through, but if you are open to wading through muddy water from time to time, you may just find something of yourself waiting on the other side.
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Thank you, Maria Galaxidas, for your generous help with designing my website and editing videos. Thank you, Yang Chen, for kindly shaping videos on my website. Thank you, Ruth Siew, for warmly hosting virtual gatherings. You have each made it possible for me to share my poetry in a cavern.
Carol Krause 