It is both
funny
and marvelous
when Facebook

Suddenly I’m fronting a 30-member gospel choir and I’m singing

“Well it’s only Wednesday and you’re down at the bar–
Doing things you know ain’t right.
You hardly ever start thinking ’bout your Father in Heaven
Till it’s ten p.m. on Saturday night.

“You remember Jacob–how he wrestled with the angel,
Got his life down from off from up on the shelf.
But you, you, you, you, you–you got some serious wrestling
‘To do, brother: got to wrestle with yourself.”

I would be dead if I didn’t
find it impossible not to laugh
at almost everything that is,
seen and unseen.

A singer explained to me once
that singing is controlled screaming.
I’m not a big cryer, but I did have a bit of sob
a couple of days ago and

I would sing
today if I weren’t to have
the mysteries of
People
when I sing

Thank you
for the Christmas
tree you
bought me so many years ago
the first Christmas after my husband
died.

I have never received so perfect,
so kind,
so tender a present.

It is not a ghost
of Christmas past.
It is Christmas present,
and it is always
part of the richness
of Christmas

The manger had stars and angels over it,
Hanukka menorahs have nine candles,
small candles,
that light up the season.
Something about the dark
and the small
and the simple
terrifies

we work ourselves up
with more light, more money,
more parties, more grief,
Alas, you will have to attempt
to do your utmost in a world
where people are happy to make noise
which sounds merry to them.

The day will be quiet.
We’ll probably find something to cry about,
something to laugh about,
and something to be quiet about.
I wish you the best season—the stars
have a way of finding you
even when you can’t quite find them.

Christmas, however fraught with kitsch,
does seem to survive, and I
hope in this season
we can find the depth that tradition confers.

A few years ago
my Christmas dinner was interrupted by 12
brass players who appeared on my porch and played
Christmas carols. I don’t think I’ve ever had
a richer experience of Christmas
—except for seeing
this stars one Christmas
Eve in second grade—
and I will be
eternally grateful to them for reminding
me of who
I am.

I am remembering my dear friends:
And the death beds I sat at.
And the joyous moments
     we shared,
And the refusal
     to acknowledge our existence.
And the loving way we came to care for each other.
And the endless heartbreak.
And the visions of angels.
And the incredible pain they felt.
And the visions of angels.
And the visions of angels.

I’m looking out my front window
and Kathryn drives up
     in a bright blue convertible,
drives by and parks
in the next door neighbor’s driveway.
“Kathryn, that’s our neighbors drive,”
I shout.
“She turns
and smiles
a huge smile, waves, and says,
“I’m a star!”

Years ago after a stroke
I couldn’t remember that
it was June 16th.
But I answered the neurosurgeon
when he asked what day it was
Bloomsday.
Yes I said Yes I will Yes

people
in New York,
above all things else,
stop to smell whatever is
smelling on a particular day
because it just might be
the flowers,
or the aromas
floating up from the Italian restaurant
or the sudden surprise
of oranges
that comes from nowhere
with no oranges that wish to be found.