by Katharine Kaufman | Aug 21, 2019 | today
Ordinary life fits the absolute as a box and its lid. The absolute works together with the relative like two arrows meeting in mid-air. * Sandokai Harmony of Difference and Sameness by Shitou Xiqian Jake’s...
by Katharine Kaufman | Jul 2, 2019 | today
When you make a poem, you become an active soul, not a victim. ~ Gregory Orr Driving up the thin dirt road above Jamestown to Jo and Glenn’s house I hug the land side. And then I can’t really hug the land side as my tires fit into tracks. Part of the road gives...
by Katharine Kaufman | May 21, 2019 | today
Sometimes I am sitting in a chair with my mouth open, and someone I barely know is yanking at my tooth. Sometimes I move freely about the kitchen, watching almond milk move in small heaps and bubbles. I cut lilacs from the neighbor’s yard. I tell a small group...
by Katharine Kaufman | Apr 25, 2019 | today
When I was in high school, I went to an outdoor concert in Concord, Mass that lasted all night. It’s so crowded I can’t get in to the porta-potties so I pee under a pine tree about a foot from someone’s blanket. The scene is all free feeling, music, boys. I wander...
by Katharine Kaufman | Apr 10, 2019 | today
The Yoga Workshop is closing. Thirty years old. Elizabeth invites a bunch of us to practice one last sun-salutation, Surya Namaskar. I keep thinking about it, but don’t write back. Cindy writes: “I wouldn’t know what to do.” I spent all the 1990’s there, well into...
