search instagram arrow-down

Recent Posts


Follow Blog via Email

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,121 other subscribers

The Desire Line

It’s National Poetry Month, so I dusted off this poem I wrote several years ago for my former colleague Glennis. Like all of us, she had experienced some unexplained aches and physical events that left her puzzled. I combined her pain with my own into these lines. That’s what poetry is, combinations of ideas and jigsaw pieces that may assemble themselves into a coherent concept, all while you are doing something else, like walking on a path that you helped create. Here are 30 ways you can celebrate poetry. Enjoy!

Desire Line SunThe Desire Line 

For Glennis

I crossed, cutting up sidelong

toward the wooded hummock-ribs of the park,

eucalyptus and low-flying ivy were wet in winter’s early robes.


No one created this path

but everyone


No one thought it would be here

but in everyone’s


No one knew where to walk

until everyone

in their thousand step falls,

made it theirs.


It was in everyone’s eye.


You don’t mind the narrow dirt ribbon,

the grass peeling away,

long blades bending as if to say:

Here, here is where you are most welcome to pass.

You barely pay attention.

It’s just easy.

Easier than noticing.


I returned the same way,

I did it twice a day for years.


Then one day my neck gave me some trouble.

The week after my arm.

A year ago it was my hip,

and now it’s my feet.

All the quickness that defined me

has abandoned me.

All that was fleet and sure

is now pacing itself,

as if it were trying to win a race

by deception and stratagem

rather than cocky, brawny, stubborn speed.


I imagine a life was once set out for me,

petroglyphs collected in cool caves,

symbols indicating motion,

location, actors and timing.

A map, a vision.


But look! I’ve walked somewhere else,

I’ve mounted the small rise,

turned and seen the desire line,

and nearby, asphalt paths, shiny in the rain,

seem not to mind their function unmade.


My life then,

like that miniature road I helped make,

casual in its demeanor,

wearing away, bit by bit,

will reveal

me, my desire, and

a line I’ll recognize gradually,

so that when it becomes clear,

I’ll have known it all these years.


It won’t be a big surprise.

Desire Line Man



Leave a Reply
%d bloggers like this: