Peggy Dobreer won Downey Symphony Orchestra’s, Poetry Matters 2016 Contest, and is honored to have two poems upcoming in the Leimert Park Anthology Redux , Tsehai Publishers. She has one pushcart nomination, and Drop & Dazzle is her second book of poetry with Moon Tide Press. Peggy is a long time educator, and was a Program Director for AROHO2015 Retreat for Women Writers in Abiquiu, New Mexico, and has taught with WITS for Red Hen Press.

Peggy is one of ten poets to be featured in the first Aeolian Harp Folio Series by Glass Lyre Press. Her poetry has been published in Pirene’s Fountain , The Bicycle Review, Mas Tequilla Press, The Nervous Breakdown, Cracked Pavement and Plastic Trees: Our Gifts to Future Generations, Everything About You Is Beautiful, Literary Angles, The San Pedro River Review, WordWright’s Magazine, Malpais Review, and LA Yoga Magazine among others.

Peggy has been interviewed for Poetiscape, The Nervous Breakdown, The Poet’s Café on KPFK, and the L.A. Poetry Examiner. She is proud to be included in Matthew Mars’ Haiku Remix Project and has hosted readings at venues in LA for 15 years. For contact information please visit her at www.peggydobreer.com.

Karma as First Mode of Transportation

Mars was my home planet then.
I wore a white uniform and counted pills like stars.

Side effects must be
read later, otherwise no one would
ever dare. Was I an abductee, you ask,
a foraging savior, bargaining for grace?

It’s hard to know.
Memories escape, like convicts with tools.
I meant to bring water to my friend without hips
but her feet beat mine to the door.
I wanted to stand out without shouting,
returned a violet, no mouth.

First published in Poetry Super Highway

Dearest

You should know. People will want to stand near your limbs.
They will discuss leaves and perhaps you will have read them.

Loveliness will soon become common place. In block print
or cursive, or hand calligraphy, distinction always exists.

How can this help you? Imagine it. Let it scrim your frame.
Grief is tenacious. If you court it, it may sink you. But if

you dismiss it, it will come reeling ‘round at evenfall. Just
before dark as the campers come to circle. This is expected.

A fire is expected. And communion. Sleep is expected. After
a long sorrow, no one expects it to lift. Then one day it does,

as unconstrained as a moon in its uncommon rising.

What if...

            we tap maple sap in Canada
grow wild rice in Vermont
            What if 
we import tea from Huang Shan
            at 100 dollars an ounce
What if we package it in bright red
            shiny sparkle with that
                        I love you glow drink me
            Shanti Shanti—Om Shanti  

What if
            vespers last until dawn and
the organ lies with the bellows
            what if the crumped
air leaves its chambers
            is allowed full reign
whipped at the wand of wonder
            at the free range of sudden flight
                        what if it does fly
                                    what if it suddenly flies
                        Om Shanti—Shanti Om

© 2018 Peggy Dobreer