Tuesday, June 09, 2015
When I moved back to Boulder some years ago, one of the people I met first was Peggy Wrenn. I had known a John Wrenn as my colleague at the university here long ago and asked if she was related. It turned out that she was his daughter. now fully grown and wife and mother and poet. Since then we have become close friends.
Here is a recent poem she wrote, dedicated to me. Her poem is essentially a response to a blog entry I made recently.
An Old-fashioned, Friend-letter: a Poem-Response, Your Words, my words, To Dorothy from Peggy, May 13 2015
"The Kiss I Want" Dorothy Walters' book of poems
is about to fly into the world, wide-world, by beloved our female modern Rumi, our Dorothy, poems go out, for 2015, flying onwards
who loves Rumi and Hafiz
I am a lover of Rumi, Hafiz, and Dorothy!
here is my gut feeling
my gut agreeing, feeling so alive with fertile creativity
Iyengar Restorative--fun and very relaxing.
I love Iyengar and the studio where you go, where your Yoga Slaves attend to your sacred old body :)
shifts in spiritual consciousness
I am feeling it my cells, my lungs, my G-spot deep in my vagina, sucking up the perineum, the whole yin line going down, down, down
my eyes lit on various ones, I was feeling tiny but nice surges of energy inside.
I have had visions and energy coming in through my eyes, when I soften my gaze and imagine, look not at objects but in the empty field my corneas are transplanted from dead people
pleasure about the yummy brunch
indeed, it was special, one my bestest birthday, with you, Poetry Goddess Dorothy not from Kansas
human evolution occurs
yes, our human evolution is on steroids, wow we are having warp time, speeding along into to Something Spiritual Awakening
Kundalini is the driving force behind the transformation
yup, of course, as Dorothy knew this a long long time ago, Goddess in our
bodies, cells, micro-cosmic mirrors, above as below
I'll read your blog whilst I do Qi Gong which is Kundalini,
the cosmic energy of love, life loving life. I will read your poems
which pop out like the most beautiful new kinds of flowers,
budding, “women squatting giving birth”