friendship

Ocean of Us

for Belinda

       Wellfleet beaches twilight low tide, strung with stones like gazing stars
       you and I and the sun, seagulls setting and rising with the moon somewhere tiding rhymes around our wonder
       wandering, picking up the scattered verses of solid Earthspun rainbows daydreaming us
       the everything-children we are, exploring this allowingness at the edges of silver waves, falling awake in cold bursts within a warm heart-held nowhere
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The Soft Galaxy (Eulogy for a Chicken)

I’m still thinking of what was happening in Roadrunner’s mind the other day, standing five feet from the back door to the house, on a stoop two steps above the ground, facing the door as if wanting to come in. Every time I think of it, I feel sad – sadder than someone raised in a culture of scientific materialism blended with Catholic ideas about the specialness of humans is really supposed to feel about a chicken.

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The Constellations We Borrow

Recently, I borrowed five cars from five friends
over the course of four weeks
while mine was at a shop in Northampton
with everything broken.
Yesterday, I finally got my car back
it smelled like nail polish
and I felt myself wrapped in a metal blanket
crocheted by capitalism
back in control
“All-American”
and distorted by the separating lenses
of space, time, and money.

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Outgrowing the Mechanism (Envisioning a Natural, Relational, and Creative Paradigm for Psychotherapy)

The Medical Model as the Tin Man in Oz

I wonder if psychotherapy loses its heart in the medical model, by being defined within a mechanistic paradigm of fixing, controlling, or manipulating a machine rather than of an essentially-mysterious and relational experience of nature and creativity.

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The Substance of Home

We four met at the bus stop, randomly
the FRTA in Northampton, outside the Academy of Music
it was cold, gray, 6 PM in October
with blue lights inside buses starrifying the sidewalk

I had just emerged from icy oceans beneath
the crust of Europa (which really are 62
miles deep, and full of life) as I nursed my
wounds of apparent rejection  (more…)