Monday, March 28, 2011


 susan ambrosino

It's odd coming home again suspecting
you never left your desk, your sofa, or
your own private pulse, flying the same plane
to the same sunny spot that doesn't require a passport.

Sauvignon Blanc is as far as you got, maybe
a little Cabernet, or both, mixed with some
mildly wild talk, some senseless laughter
then a bit of fast driving, taking the turns sharp,
arriving home at a time only you think is late,
like eight, when others are leaving to go out.

You like remaining awake in the night.
You have your own private crazy,
perhaps everyone does, you wouldn’t know.

The silence at night is a hushing in the depths of the inner ear.
It’s a habit forming sensation, no one
to raise eyebrows at you, no one
to quietly turn away, no one
need answer.

It is easy to find peace in the avoidance of people,
but to find it in chaos, that is hard.
Humans are what they are,
some are rain, some are earthquakes.

You try so hard to be a tree lined path leading to a cabin in the woods.
But you need to have flaws, or you’d be a technician.
Why would you want to be perfect ?

So you keep the make-up bag, the high-heeled shoes, the trendy clothes.
You keep Cinderella and her Coach handbag,
you still are good.
You sleep eight hours every night, you still are virtuous.
Must you question everything ?

You took one volume of the encyclopedia
Britannica to read in bed each night for many years.
Now you seek no-mind.

Put this on your calendar:
do not look at the person ahead of you,
do not look at the person behind you,
look up at the sky,
look down at your feet.

Put this on your calendar:
Be snow, be lightening
be wind, mud, avalanche, tsunami.

At least you have a partner to dance with
who can lift you off your feet,
swing you upside down,
blood pulsing, pen scratching,
while you imagine what you write has some meaning,
could ever matter to anyone
but yourself.

Is it ego ? indulgence ? a touch of  madness ?
Are you still fifteen ?
Still an orphan child hoping to be found ?
Cinderella waiting for your husband to come home
with his paycheck
which he gives to you without blinking
without thinking

until the leaves fall still from no breeze
the curtains drop down with no breath
the sun settles into dusk, into night,
into earth ?

Friday, March 11, 2011


 susan ambrosino

The lights have gone out.
It could be the 13th century.
You've become a thinking blindness
walking around dark corridors
sneaking up on yourself
holding out your hand
hoping it will not touch something
This is how it should be.
The words come when the mind shifts over
to the primal dark.
Never share any percentage of yourself.
Never give up any small part of the thing that you are.
Talk to yourself.
Settle into the shape of the dark,
into the shape of the body,
the internal organs floating.
It is so easy to see the depth of color in the darkness.
You could pluck the best color for the moment,
each finger knowing what comes next,
pond water
What is it about the color green ?
for the wife who talks so much
that you can't hear the person who doesn't speak at all.
Your ways are important to no one but yourself.
You have a lovely house,
and you're oh so happy
to be coming home again.


 susan ambrosino

Start with less
then add less and less
each day
until you have even less,
living in the town next to nowhere,
someone who knows no one,
with more of that strange invention of god,
called Time.
Look around
and look and look.
See how everything fits together nicely
in a neat package,
The sky meets the horizon.
The trees touch the sky.
The trees root in the earth.
All living beings wrap themselves around
everything else
and live touching, touching, touching
each other
and it all breathes in and out
in and out
in and out together.
Wind blows east.
Wind blows west.
The sun comes up.
The moon goes down.
The earth tilts one way as it

spins in a floating flash of fiery
every warmth provided.
God is a very small thing
that you will notice
when you are alone and silent,
when you are nobody in particular,
a clean slate rising each day
leaving the body behind.
Only by balancing can we move.
Only by moving can we balance.
Don't believe what you don't believe
even though everyone else believes it.