Hi, This is a poem about how open space has been showing up for me.
Ralph Copleman ____ I¹ve Been Telling Jokes to My Mother To tell a joke to my very old mother, to tell it well, I have to hold it in the telling, hold it in the timbre of my voice, hands, the angle of my face, and hers, too, for she watches just so as I point to the signposts. As she comes around each one. She gives me small signals, so we make the little turns together, me just ahead and her a flicker later. And if as always, she falls a little behind she knows I will wait for her making little circling sounds to show her the way back. And I and my mother and the joke make a space Let it unfold, renew our promise in this tenuous embrace of our breaths just above the tabletop. >From the center let us evoke laughter here in the mist around our eyes. Let it reach back to us both now in a moment of love until again she is gone. * * ========================================================== [email protected] ------------------------------ To subscribe, unsubscribe, change your options, view the archives of [email protected], Visit: http://listserv.boisestate.edu/archives/oslist.html
