HERE
31 January 2026
Grace Paley is best known for her short stories, but she started out as a poet. These poems are drawn from the end of her life, after she had left New York, and was living full time in Thetford, VT, with her husband Bob Nichols. I have always loved the lines about his “sweet explaining lips,” and her decision, on a melancholy morning, not to write a poem, but to make a pie instead.
“Here” by Grace Paley (1922-2007)
Here I am in the garden laughing
an old woman with heavy breasts
and a nicely mapped face
how did this happen
well that’s who I wanted to be
at last. a woman
in the old style sitting
stout thighs apart under
a big skirt grandchild sliding
on off my lap a pleasant
summer perspiration
that’s my old man across the yard
he’s talking to the meter reader
he’s telling him the world’s sad story
how electricity is oil or uranium
and so forth I tell my grandson
run over to your grandpa ask him
to sit beside me for a minute I
am suddenly exhausted by my desire
to kiss his sweet explaining lips
“The Poet's Occasional Alternative” by Grace Paley (1922-2007)
I was going to write a poem
I made a pie instead it took
about the same amount of time
of course the pie was a final
draft a poem would have had some
distance to go days and weeks and
much crumpled paper
the pie already had a talking
tumbling audience among small
trucks and a fire engine on
the kitchen floor
everybody will like this pie
it will have apples and cranberries
dried apricots in it. many friends
will say why in the world did you
make only one
this does not happen with poems
because of unreportable
sadnesses I decided to
settle this morning for a re-
sponsive eatership I do not
want to wait a week. a year. a
generation for the right
consumer to come alongWrite a poem that begins with the word “Here,” focusing on right here, right now. Or say something about your own “occasional alternatives.” What do you turn to when you can’t imagine an audience, and writing suddenly seems too much?
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Oh these poems are so palpable visceral… and rich with self acceptance! How might our lives shift if we navigated by love and self compassion.
13 Thank yous,
Joy
Oh Christian,
Here, as humanity is being invited to open the aperture of our perspective ever more widely and creatively, are you supporting that with this Grace Paley poem. The earlier sung languages did not have or employ the verb to be. They knew they lived beyond time in a moment of infinite possibility.
As do we now!
Thank you!
Love,
Joy