Carol’s Poetry Cavern

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

Image by Motionographer

Inside, Outside

If I could learn to habituate, it would be easier to cross the street. I would have a layer over my flesh that says, this is outside, this is inside. When I looked at the sign on the subway car, it would seem perfectly insignificant. The eyes on the faces of strangers would not pop out at me. And everything would be equally devoid of meaning.

“Inside, Outside,” Minola Review

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”


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,” The Fiddlehead

For Carol, caves are more than places you can fit inside. They are openings into 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. 

Image by ottokub

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.

Gratitude to Raymond MacNeil and Ross MacDonald for photographing cave adventures.