The house of Love is not
a tent I need to hold up with my hands –
I don’t need to be tentative –
don’t need to try the ropes
or mend the canvas,
don’t need to canvas
for votes or for acceptance
The house of Love
is never taken down,
nor can it be abandoned –
we live here with abandon,
and welcome everyone
to find it home.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 19, 2023
My world is full of sounds at play –
phrases flit frivolous through my day:
“Pot and matches, pot and matches
go together like a plot that hatches “
(it’s a mnemonic,
it’s not symphonic,
and it isn’t about smoking –
it’s for making oatmeal)
With a spoon and a bowl
and a sprinkle of soul
and a knife and a fork
and equations for torque
Through the rain and the sun
with the work never done
but the days ever full of their splendor
and lines that would do well to end here.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 12, 2020
You peer with interest
through the interstices
to find, somehow, the ultimate escape
where everything transcends
what it was thought to be —
the thing becomes the space between
as focus shifts, the space becomes the thing
Come inward, then, come through
to where, on tiny scale, space opens out —
infinitesimal, the infinite within
deftly reflects the universe without
This is a thing you clearly want,
less certain is your need —
you will try to take it home —
Who knows? You may succeed.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 29, 2018
and in solitude,
how shall one pursue the baubles
and the light that comes
from their exchange?
but in multitude,
the jostling shifting
of everyone’s efforts,
how can one find and proffer
the right one?
it’s easy enough to go home
without having said anything,
without engaging,
easy enough to say
one didn’t need it, anyway,
or didn’t need it here
if there’s a whole other being,
a light inducing, producing,
seducing incandescence,
luminescence from within
all satisfying,
it still should serve
to lead to bright connections,
not wean one from them,
don’t you think?
©Wendy Mulhern
April 12, 2016
(I left the space white overnight, but then crept in to add the following:)