Bill Denham's Writings
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Jan.19.2012
Words
I am torn—
No—shredded
seems a more apt
metaphor when
wholeness asks of me
...
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Poem
Jan.19.2012
The truth of that
revisited on Christmas morning
There is a kind of cultural schizophrenia I feel—
how we loose our words
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Essay
Aug.24.2011
Despite my deep sense of gratitude, my appreciation of the skill and dedication of those who cared for me and despite a profound sense of humility, born of my knowledge that I have been the recipient of the very best Western medicine has to offer, even as I am poor, despite these and other positive parts of my experience, I found myself thinking over and again,...
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Poem
Dec.08.2010
I have posted here before about the shooting death of Matthew Avery Solomon in San Francisco on September 4, 2008 when he and his friends, Noel Espinoza and December--whose sir name I do not know, though I have met her and she did tell me the story of that evening--were shot from behind by two masked young men as the three of them walked and joked together at...
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Poem
Feb.13.2009
Of course, I, like all of us, have always been telling my own story to myself and to the world and have frequently in the last dozen years had to adjust it toward more truthfulness as I discovered this or discovered that about myself but now I find myself engaged in a more intentionally focused effort to record this story of mine, believing, as I do, the more...
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Poem
Jan.12.2009
Winter moon
There is a winter moon
on cold clear nights
that throws a light
like no other-
a bright that goes beyond bright
that makes the cold grow colder,
sucks all the warmth of color out
and makes a beauty in detail
never seen in light of day.
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About Bill
Touched by hearing Mary Oliver's, The Journey, in the year 2000, I knew I must be a poet, though it took me several years before I could comfortably own that self description.
Southern boy, Southern bred, Southern educated, born a few weeks before Pearl...