A Reflection on the Life of Michael Glaser | John Fox, PPM

A Blessing for the Woods

Before I leave, almost without noticing,

before I cross the road and head out to

what I have intentionally postponed –

Let me stop to say a blessing for these woods:

for crows barking and squirrels scampering,

for trees and fungus and multi-colored leaves,

for the way sunlight laces shadows

through each branch and leaf of tree,

for these paths that take me in,

for these paths that lead me out.   

Michael S. Glaser

Michael Glaser

It was in 2014 that Michael Glaser confronted me – or rather he reached out to me with a superb challenge.  He knew I hadn’t published much of my poetry.  This is true, it was a kind of confrontation or maybe better to say it was a kind confrontation.

He knew I loved writing poems and sharing those poems within the communities and people I made contact with, mostly via The Institute for Poetic Medicine. 

He must have sensed that I didn’t care that much about seeing my poems published in the traditional way, in an official way, or in official poetry places.  I just didn’t care.  Was this actually because I knew there would be rejections (yes, there had been rejections here and there…) or because I had no enthusiasm for sending them out? 

All of that was true: I wanted to avoid rejection and told myself I didn’t care.   

I believe Michael felt my attitude and my lack of action was me missing an opportunity.  He felt, with enthusiasm and appreciation, that more people should have access to my poetry.  What is there to not like about someone believing that! 

He said that he would help this to happen by gathering my poems into a chapbook.  He would choose 24 poems out of the 40 poems I sent him.  He would arrange them.  I did send him 40 poems and he did choose 24 and arranged them. 

Further, he said that he would use his imprint, Seasons Press, to publish my book – and he would pay for that.  He never asked me for a thing for anything.   

That is what in 2015 became the chapbook, the only gift to bring, that we offer through a donation to IPM.  I was happy to surrender to Michael Glaser to do this.  I had known him for years and trusted him implicitly.  Not only surrender; because of Michael, I changed my attitude.  I celebrate and feel tremendous gratitude to him and for sharing my poems in wider circles. 

Ohmigod!  Let me tell you about Michael Glaser.

Michael was poet laureate for the State of Maryland from 2004 – 2009.  Michael, with an incredible resumé of life-long teaching and service to poetry and all the arts.  His focus on children and teens when he served on the Maryland State Department of Education’s Arts Advisory Committee particularly touches me.  We both cared about young people and creativity. 

Michael taught for years alongside Lucille Clifton at St. Mary’s College and along with Kevin Young, edited her anthology of The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton 1965–2010. 

You have probably noticed that in writing about Michael I have been using the past tense. Past tense…tenses are a real thing when you are using someone’s name and your relationship.  The reality is that I am now thinking with great sadness now about Michael Glaser in the past tense.  He died suddenly on Friday, January 24th, 2025. 

Early in March I was traveling in the east offering poetic medicine to a wide range of people. On this journey through Pennsylvania, New Jerse,y and New York, two dear friends traveled with me: James Elsaesser and Jean Richardson.  We truly traveled together in this outreach to people with “special needs.”  It was a wonderful closeness that we felt. 

I am not sure exactly where we were – maybe driving to New York, to a wonderful place called Camphill Copake.  Jean said: did you know Michael Glaser died in his sleep?  

No!! I said.  What?!?!  What?!

This was so shocking.  I felt and can still feel flailing to grasp it.  Yes, Michael helped me get my poetry out there – but knowing him was so much more.  We would talk about so much.  Trees, toxic masculinity, trust, politics, caring, the non-work of staying present, even in the midst of, or especially in the midst of personal travail:

Here at Mount Airy

Here, in the interval between not knowing and knowing,

here in the moment (always in the moment) of in-between

when living in the present seems more difficult

than the anxious waiting for the not-yet-arrived future

I realize again how each moment offers a choice

between anxiety or a clean in-breath of presence

and how, in this moment, at Mount Airy,

surrounded by bird song, blue sky, and spring green

I am reminded that I stopped here on my way home

from the cancer center’s bone scan machine

to experience the stillness, the soft breeze, the in-breath

of light that has been, that is, that will be

Here now, always now

                                                          exhale.

Michael S. Glaser

Are you aware of the “in-between” and “the anxious waiting?”  What could you write about that?

Michael had a particular awareness and active sensitivity to accepting and advocating for the healing power of poetry and poem-making.  I can assure you that as much as I honor poets and their poetry, this deep sense of acceptance of the healing significance is only felt by a small portion of poets, professional or otherwise.  No judgement, but for many craft and publication is where the poem “is at.” 

To show this healing awareness in Michael, I mirror back these vulnerable lines:

I am reminded that I stopped here on my way home

from the cancer center’s bone scan machine

to experience the stillness, the soft breeze, the in-breath

of light that has been, that is, that will be

Here now, always now

                                                          exhale.

Michael demonstrated this resonance in his capacity as a convener of poetry gatherings.  Twice he invited me as co-faculty for multi-day gatherings at Kirkridge Retreat Center in Bangor, PA.  One of those visits was shared with Naomi Shihab Nye who he also recognized as a poet who welcomes poetry-as-healer. 

Michael valued my perspective as a poet – I guess this must be pretty clear by now!  Even as I cry while writing this reflection, I want to thank him for his recognition.  He invited me to write a testimonial for his book of poetry, TheThreshold of Light:

Yeats said, “There is a second world but it is in this one.”  Reading The Threshold of Light, I have a better understanding, or actually, a deeper feeling for what he means.  These poems, in their exquisite simplicity, in their love and kindness, make daily experience, the natural world and relationships enough – as if enough is sacred ground.  In the poem Spring Glaser writes, “And she invites you into your own heart.” Entering there is how the second world inside this one, blossoms.  

Learn more.

I want this reflection to end focused on the fine life of Michael Glaser.  Sally Hare, his dear friend and leader in the Courage and Trust work of Parker Palmer, wrote this to me: 

Words don’t capture Michael, even for someone (like me) who loves words.  He was a paradox: imp and angel; caustic and kind; eternally worried and joy-filled. I am grateful to have had his companionship on this journey for a while: offering retreats together, serving on the Kirkridge Board, and loving Kathleen and Jim. Perhaps I can best honor him by sharing this poem he wrote for me.  In his words, “may be all that needs to be said.”

For Sally Z. Hare

The soul is shy, she says,

though it smiles at the sometimes wonderfulness

of others,

of even itself.

It shows up when the space is safe,

and when the invitation

to believe in the beauty of things

is spoken in rootedness.

When the soul dances

with its own mystery

there is almost no shadow

and silence

may be all

that needs to be said.

Michael S. Glaser

I love this seeing of Michael by Sally.  She shows what a full and paradoxically healthy person Michael Glaser met the world.  She mentions his love for Kathleen and Jim.  Kathleen is Michael’s wife and Jim is Sally’s husband.  

Michael’s children wrote this on his Facebook page on February 2nd:

It is with great grief and gratitude that we share that our father, Michael Glaser, died peacefully in his sleep on Friday morning, January 24th, 2025. He was vibrant and active on his last day: writing poems, tending loved ones, feeding the birds. Although unexpected, his sudden departure has been held in beauty and love.

This is the poem that was resting in his printer Friday morning:

Let Us Not Despair

"let us not despair at the extraordinary evil of ordinary men"

Lucille Clifton

The eyes of suffering children

are staring at us

while daily, new evil and new opportunities

unfold before us.

Let us embrace the courage to choose

the clarion songs

of justice and love as they urge us

to cultivate the seeds

of shimmering light that are deeply rooted

and ready to rise up singing.

Michael S. Glaser Jan 23, 2025

I am thankful to his children for this generous message. Here is my hope for honoring Michael: that we plant seeds right now that are

shimmering light that are deeply rooted

and ready to rise up singing.

(Note from John Fox:  Let Us Not Despair was written two days after the inauguration of Donald Trump.)

I wish I knew some of Michael’s students from St. Mary’s and could invite their reflections.  I hope to hear from more people as time unfolds. 

I am offering a bow of condolence, gratitude and deep appreciation to Michael and his family – to his wife, the educator Kathleen W. Glaser.  He was the proud father of five grown children, Brian, Joshua, Daniel, Amira and Eva, and twelve grandchildren.

As I go forward in my life I am aware more intensely how no day is guaranteed to me – or to any of us.  How then shall we live?  By trying to be awake.  A good start is to love those in my life and let them know.  Beyond that I will make each day one that honors the kind of dedication and service that Michael Glaser showed us. 

It is not my place to get a person published – yet – I shall always affirm your capacity and your cherished right to make them.

John Fox, PPM

---

If you feel called to donate in Michael's honor, his children have shared some of his cherished organizations:

Lucille Clifton Legacy and The Clifton House continues the legacy of poetry, art, activism, and community that began with Lucille and Fred Clifton. By providing craft and business training, networking opportunities, and a safe and beautiful space (in-person, hybrid and virtual) to imagine, we honor our commitment to serving their legacy and the community for years to come.

Donate to The Clifton House.

---

Street Roots, founded in 1999, is a nonprofit organization in Portland, Oregon, that publishes a weekly social justice newspaper sold by people experiencing homelessness and poverty to earn an income.

Hineini is Hebrew for “Here I am.” This is an online and in-person that seeks to be a Jewish spiritual home, a place of healing and awakening, a place of kindness and community, where our whole selves are welcome. Michael was a part of this community, and deeply appreciated the healing and enlightenment he found here.

Donate to Street Roots.

---

PORCH Hillsborough is an all-volunteer hunger-relief organization founded in 2011 to fight hunger in northern Orange County, North Carolina. It is first to the frontlines, providing meals in response to humanitarian, climate, and community crises.

Donate to PORCH Hillsborough.

---

Toxic Masculinity

For Daphne Spencer

What is this about?  What is the Big Picture,

I ask my students

and, in a voice more sure than I had heard all year,

she replied, “Toxic Masculinity” and looked right at me.

“Say more,” I said. And she began to describe

the trajectory of my life:

“Giving voice to your emotions is feminine,” she explains

“so boys find ways to be aggressive, hostile, like we see on TV –

it is a cycle that is hard to break –

parents who don’t parent, schools unprepared,

classrooms and hallways with no place to take off our masks,

no place we feel safe enough to talk,

we sexualize masculinity:” she continued.

“It starts with football –

and cheerleaders who act as if nothing could be more sexy

than rough and tumble, make ‘em fumble , hard hitting, boys.

And if you prefer to play chess, or write poetry,

if you sense that somewhere within is a deeply buried

sweetness you have vaguely felt and less vaguely understood

might transform you into some unspeakable other –

Who would rescue you?  Surely not the “friends”

you hang with but never talk to

about stuff like these fears that get buried and fester

like a wound waiting to be opened      

by a sideward glance,

a comment,         a snide remark,         a smirk

                                                   and then         explode like a gun.”’

Michael Glaser

 October 1, 2018  

Poet’s Statement:

Always and always I have so much to learn.  I had not even heard the term “toxic masculinity" when Daphne Spencer, a quiet powerhouse who rarely spoke in class, unleashed her wisdom.  I was and am soooo grateful!  

If We Don’t Shed Our Tears

Joy, joy, the soprano sings,

reaching for the shimmering notes

while our eyes fill with tears.

                                   from “Joy” by Lisa Muller

                                  I

What kind of people are we to prioritize

guns over schoolchildren?

What kind of people allow corporate greed –

willfully and knowingly –to foul the earth

and air and water

while white men with power believe they can

rule the bodies of women and exploit the poor?

What kind of people allow prevaricators, pundits

and politicians to pollute the public airwaves  with lies

and poison social media under the flag of “free speech”?

And how can we, who do not have to daily curse God

or ask “why me?” --  how do we balance our good fortune

with the piercing fear that the end of humanity is near?

                                     II

So much has been on hold during the pandemic—

but not guns or murder, not lies, nor greed nor suicide.

What kind of people can ignore this craziness

with such casual equanimity?  --

Shrugging our shoulders, saying, “but what can I do?”

Why, when we look in the mirror of the future,

         are we not overwhelmed by the horror we face?

What do we imagine is staring back at us?

And why does denial seem as simple as combing our hair,

turning off the bathroom light and getting on with our day

as though that is the only reasonable option?

                                   III

All around us, the systems we have created

are cracking or broken. 

Our hearts are broken. 

How are we able to pretend we do not notice? 

Are we so flooded with confusion, helplessness

and disbelief that we cannot imagine ourselves

stepping up, speaking out,

                                     crying out?         weeping?

How is it we are so capable of just continuing on

when so many others will never, ever, be the same again?

                                   IV

There are always times when we can’t find the words,

but in times like these, how can we forgive ourselves

if we don’t shed our tears?

How is it that we have stopped believing

there is a way through.

Michael S. Glaser

The Presence of Trees

Slowly, I am remembering

the language of awe,

how to take in, say,

the living complexity of a tree

its gnarled trunk,

its ragged bark,

the way its leafy canopy

filters sunlight

down to the brown

carpeted ground,

the way the wind bends my heart

to the exquisite presence of trees

the forest that calls to me as deeply

as I breathe,

as though the woods were

marrow of my bone as though

I myself were tree, a breathing, reaching

arc of the larger canopy

beside a brook bubbling to foam

like the one

deep in these woods,

that calls

that whispers home.

Michael S. Glaser

Note from John Fox: I was working on a presentation called Writing Our Relationship with Trees: What This Can Teach Us About Ourselves & Living Within the Sacred. Michael wrote this poem for that presentation. I madeThe Presence of Trees the last poem in the booklet and the last writing prompt in the retreat.