Writing poetry is what I consider to be my spiritual practice. I began developing this idea in 2008, and have been fairly consistent since that time. On Tuesdays and Fridays upon waking, I make tea, sit with a book of wisdom and my poetry notebook. On these mornings I neither open the computer nor answer the phone. I read from the book I have chosen — usually only a page or two — till something moves me, and I begin to write. My aim is not to write “good poetry,” it is to connect to something larger than myself. It is a call to my muse to tell her I am here; I am ready for her to flow through me. It is a doorway into that special place where the unknown happens.

On New Year’s Day, 2010, I began a blog to publish my poetry, with the stipulation that every poem that goes online has to have a painting with it. My goal has been to bring the ease of writing poetry into my art. After writing a poem I ask for two things: a title and a sketch. This drawing may be a circle, wavy lines in different directions, a figure made from calligraphic gestures. It becomes my entry point to do the corresponding art. This practice has pushed me to paint with a purpose I’ve never had before. It’s been a wonderful process of expanding the poem into visual form. And most of the hundred paintings posted on that blog would not exist without the poem coming first.

There is a little book I have owned for years called Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf. It’s a collection of Zen Poems by Ryōkan, who was born in 1758 in Japan. The book opens with