Signs & Psalms: Book Release and Poetry Reading at Rediscovered Books in Boise, Idaho, December 9, 2025
THE PHOTOS
Walking during the pandemic was so silent that the language of everyday signs called out. I began taking photos to document their variety and mixed signals. Most were taken on daily walks throughout Boise, others came from similar walks through Santa Cruz, Paris, and the French countryside.
THE POEMS
This is a book of signs, both real and surreal, and the personal pleas that flow out of trying to follow their beautiful and brutal twists and turns: one minute about restarts and resting places; the next, car crashes and tiresome betrayals; ultimately leading to many hard won resolutions.
It is a collection of complaints, hallelujahs, and complete exhaustion and/or surrender-
all the essentials of life.
Opening Words:
Everything is sacred…
except for the things that have been desecrated.
— Wendell Berry
People have asked if this is a religious book. “Religious”, I ask myself?…and the definitive answer is “No”... but I do hope it finds its place among all that’s sacred in the world.
Opening Poem:
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Self-care & Preservation
Turn
to things that open
gates leaf buds birth canals
portals
relax the grab of muscles
tease open
cinched knots
smooth crinkled fault
lines that map
the face
drop a weary tongue
into the cradle
of the jaw
thaw the mountains
unflex the guns
unfurl fists
follow signs
that spring
you open
___________________________
So here’s to opening up! I will open six more poems, out of the 36, and trust it’s enough to give you a taste of this book. Let’s start at the real beginning with the last poem of which there is also an excerpt on the back cover. But, the book actually started with an image, like a recurring dream I couldn’t unsee. It was of a nondescript person on the street in an old coat wearing a sandwich sign (the kind with a message on the front and back) and on that sign was the message of all time, the one we need but the one we keep walking by…Here is Poem #1:
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Resolution
POET AS PROPHET
Not a saint in a bedazzled robe
but a faded coat with bulging pockets
on the corner of Idaho and 8th Street
calling out messages
nobody hears
If only the words could be flashed
on a neon sandwich sign for all to see
and the voice amplified down Main
calling out through dry air
Calling anyone to follow the search
for nourishment in the night
rustling through trash
pocketing warm words
sniffing out crumbs of truths
And join in the glow of a flame
to gather and weave lost words
and puzzle together
entangled splintered
stories
In hopes that one day
on any frozen street corner
a new prophet will be heard
calling out the future
found in the truth-telling
of a newly birthed poem
___________________________
The photo that accompanies this poem is the cover photo taken of a tattered sign found lying on a cobblestone road in the South of France. It is the perfect place to begin and end the book -with its still vibrant red arrow eagerly still pointing somewhere…and those magnificent cobblestones…
And so, to the age-old quest of puzzling together entangled, (and, yes, sometimes splintered) stories, I dedicate this book to the world we are doing our damnedest to live in right now and the accompanying signs that we are trying to decipher as we march, live out psalms of lament and joy, and keep breathing. In my case, I just kept writing. Over time it began to dawn on me that there was an invisible thread running through all the poems, and it was what was on that sandwich sign- Three simple words:
TELL THE TRUTH.
While it should be simple to tell the truth, we now understand just how complicated it can get. And yet some of us have known that for a very long time. In my family, a rebellion was necessary for the truth to come out. On my website I talk about how while my siblings were rebelling in all the normal ways (which I can tell many of you know all about), I only seemed to be able to rebel quietly inside a poem where it might be disguised, like a secret code. But I have been desperate for my poems to tell the truth even when they had to be coaxed out and revised again and again. We all know now just how complicated truth telling can be (the stakes were never higher) and, perhaps, more than ever it is something we avoid at all costs...but mental health professionals agree across the board that repressing the truth can destroy you.
For example, in 2022 I was called to jury duty where I met a killer (the facts of this case are now part of the public record). She must’ve been 4’11”, in her 40s, a Boise native, and quite charming, but she sat on a powder keg of lies. We all wanted to believe her -especially me, having been raised in my chaotic home, which led to the birth of my first book (In Your Bones: Poems of Radical Forgiveness) and all my books are tied to it somehow with threads of forgiveness and self preservation- but this little lady had a “troubled relationship with the truth” which is a more accurate way of saying she was a liar. For all 7 hours of her interrogation (which we did indeed watch) she lied, while detectives were uncovering the truth behind every lie. We even had to watch her proudly show an officer how she could change the location on her phone to mask the truth of where she actually was thinking she was so clever (often mentioning her high IQ). She defied her attorneys and took the stand on her own behalf thinking she was the best one, the only one, who could sell her story, and she was impressive. We then convicted her of 9 counts out of 10 including first degree murder. Someone jokingly asked what kind of poem I would write after that experience and I couldn’t imagine doing that until I started thinking more about the destruction of lies…Poem #2 was the result…
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Lament
DAMAGED GOODS
Don’t take the stand
hold your right hand up
then pepper me with bullets
aimed at my soft torso
High caliber verbiage shot
with your tongue on the trigger
as you step out of the chamber
clicking off the safety
Loaded and cocked
ready for fire
trained to kill
Stand down and step up to silence
flip your safety back on
unload your lips
uncock your fingers
Swallow those bullets
and slam yourself down
until you see your words
shot full of holes
___________________________
Next to this poem is a photo of a raggedy edged sign taken next to an electrical box tucked away in the shadows of the Louvre in Paris showing a person who looks like they are being struck by lightning…just like the jolt of truth that must have hit this little lady when she was sentenced to 20 years in prison. But why write a poem about her, why tell you her story? The TRUTH is that I saw myself in her- not the murderous part, thank goodness- but the part where she couldn’t see the truth, she couldn’t face the truth, she couldn’t say the truth. In fact, one of the reasons I have a children’s book is due to thinking about what she must have missed as a child. What would have happened if she had found a way to tell her truth instead of creating a life of lies?
—as researcher Brené Brown says, “We either own our stories or they own us…This is true in our lives, our families, our communities, and our country.” and I would add, our world, as well.
The truth is we are all sitting on a powder keg right now. A LOT has happened and we are dealing with it in any way we know how. I started during the pandemic by walking my feet off- faster and faster until I got plantar fasciitis in one foot and then the other (sorry, didn’t mean to start a litany of aches & pains, although you can find one of those in the poem “Now I Lay me Down”). I just meant to touch on how we deal with stress and walking seemed like a good idea at the time, but I had to keep learning to slow down (which is what poetry requires) and in doing so I began to notice all the actual signs that are randomly pointing here, there, and everywhere. It’s a miracle we ever know which way to turn.
In slowing down I began meditating and one day turned to the Psalms for some comfort or some clarity, only to be reminded that for every psalm that has you resting by still waters the next takes you to the middle of a bloody confrontation or conflict, just like life. And so the title was born and the poems seem to separate themselves into a middle section of Signs & Psalms of Lament, where you’ll find “Damaged Goods”, but (lest you think that all those poems are about murders) some of the most trying were hilarious like “Whiplash from Elvis” about the police chief dressed like Elvis who showed up to oversee the 8 car collision I allegedly instigated…but it also includes some other painful truths that were not so amusing like “To the SOB who Gaslit Me…and To the SOB who Gaslit Us All”. These laments were strategically placed between S&P of Self-Care & Preservation, and S&P of Resolution.
And now for a psalm…which is defined as “a sacred song or hymn that might be sung or chanted” and I did try to give it a chant type rhythm. The accompanying photo is from the streets of Paris. It definitely feels like we need a deviation or “departure from a certain course of action” right now…So Here’s Poem #3… :
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Resolution
AMERICAN PSALM
Dismantle the house of score cards
Defuse the bombs littering the way
Untwist the twisted fist
Hands out palms up
Wrestle wealth to the ground
Add it to the soil
Grow something worthwhile
Grapple with hunger before we starve
Boil our tears down to salt
Season our mouths with remembrance
Quit forgetting to
Never forget
Create things other than
Flinches and kicks
Strangle the neck of hate
Extract Ugly from American
No melting into only one pot
Let the colors be hues
No class rule
Turn off the heat
Draw down the flags
Temper the wind
___________________________
Now, stay with me here…While no “Swiftie” I want to talk about Taylor Swift for a moment! I recently heard her interviewed and she referred to this song called “Opalite” (maybe you’ve heard it?) so I looked at the lyrics and here’s a few choice lines (BTW, opalite is a man-made gemstone- in this case a woman-made metaphor- about personal empowerment):
I thought my house was haunted, I used to live with ghosts…
But my Mama told me: you were dancing through the lightning strikes,
Sleepless in the onyx night, now the sky is opalite
This is just a storm inside a teacup…a temporary speedbump
You have to make your own sunshine.
These choice words reminded me what an accomplishment it is to dance through lightning strikes and come out whole on the other end. It doesn’t minimize the storm, but gives perspective we all need. We often say when someone ends their own life, “If only they could have seen a broader view of how things can change in time”, but I am grateful to Taylor for telling our kids that, through poetry, of all things. So Here’s to Taylor’s message…and Here’s Poem #4…
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Self-care and Preservation
JOYRIDE
BUMP
insists the sign
at the edge of the driveway
everytime I
enter or
exit
a reminder
of the time before
when I lived without
protection and cold fear sunk
into my bones from the outside in
and I had to call on good fear to ride in on
the back of fresh anger to whisk me
away bringing me here
that sign
stands sure
decades later
brilliant yellow against
all colors of sky for all farewells
and hellos singing again and again
that every mountain
-turned molehill-
ended in a ride
to the other
side
___________________________
Now to the section on Resolution for our final poems. For those of you who have read my other books you know that I’ve been working my way to forgiveness in my poems, and in life, for a very long time, I want to give a shout out to the poem in this section called “white flag”, that could easily have been called Forgiveness V as there are 4 others that precede it (Forgiveness I-IV) in my other books, but it is the one that all the others were laying the groundwork for. Through them all you will see the progression of a personal quest for forgiveness. But let me end with two other poems from this section.
This next one has a photo taken at a recent rally of a sign that got me thinking that said “My America is BIG ENOUGH for everyone”. The poem itself started from a writing prompt that began with “I’m From ____” where I was challenged to claim my own roots, like it or not. So see if you can tell the places I’m from…(keep an ear out for Idaho) and be thinking about your own roots as well, and how you feel right now about claiming them…Poem #5
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Resolution
MY AMERICA
Born between silos
sunflowers and mint
down straight streets
past boarded windows
Whisked off to orange
grove developments
missed freeway exits
Santa Ana winds
Settled under shadows of
dripping forests
voluptuous roads
fuzzy hair
Escaped to warm
speckled skies
hard water deposits
feldspar and quartz
Landscapes my feet navigated
sedimentary layers laid down
ribbons like tree rings
absorbed into every bone
___________________________
We can’t tell the truth by denying our roots. In spite of all the social media pictures of happy people, the truth is it is not easy to be part of our own families sometimes, it is not easy to be an Idahoan sometimes, and it is not easy to be an American sometimes- BUT moving to France doesn’t change that. It might add a colorful new layer but it doesn't diminish all the layers rooted here. A root is a root. To be an American means many things, and it seems like a good time to claim what that means for each of us.
The photo for this final poem is a construction zone sign that sits outside the Louvre that consists of 3 smaller pictures that connect to this final poem about building hope. The first is of a man in a hard hat that reminded me how much harder it is to rebuild than it is to tear something down, in the middle there sits an exclamation point that reminded me how alarming and extraordinary it is to live a life of hope (especially in such a disheartening time), and the last is a picture of a person walking with the circle and slash through it that reminded me of that need to pause, slow down, and sometimes stop and wait…for a sign, for the right words, for how to break our silence (check out “Silent Weapon”)…or just wait for the winds to die down before we pick ourselves back up and start again.
And so we arrive at Poem #6…
Signs & Psalms: Poems of Resolution
BUILD HOPE
like a muscle
flex it everyday
Hoard it high
hold it tight
hum it in bed at night
Fill your pockets full
your pocketbook
cheeks and bones
Mix your smoothies with
a scoop for every meal
blend it well into the body
Perched like that bird on your sill
feed it from your hand
then let it feed you
Let it clothe your back
your enemy
your neighbor
Slather it on bread
scoop it onto trays in lunchrooms
boardrooms playrooms
Lay it down like fat
foam insulation blown
into your walls
Apply it like sunscreen
generously and often
get it in your eyes
Pave it in roads
shingle it on roofs
cultivate it in the earth
Stir it in the soil
to overgrow
gardens
Inject operating rooms
surgeon’s hands
wounds
Give it away at night
in back alleys
shot into veins
Indulge even the rich
slip it in their drinks
make it stylish
Enter the food chain
fill the water supply
pump it out into the air
Litter it along the path
don’t pack it in and then back out
leave traces behind
___________________________
So here’s to hope and to love and to truth. May we not lose them and may every sign point to them, even the ones pointing in different directions all at once. Let’s find all the ways to absorb hope into our cells and not walk past the signs of the poet simply telling us to find our best ways to rebel, to find our voices, and above all, TELL THE TRUTH, so that in the end, when all of our pieces are laid to rest, we can truly rest in peace knowing we paid attention and gave it our all, even in the hardest of times.
Closing Words:
The voice of inner truth…has access to the wisdom of eternal knowledge.
The perspective of that voice is timeless.
—from Poet Warrior, A Memoir, by Joy Harjo
May it be so.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
This book took a VILLAGE. Thanks to Rediscovered Books who have stood by all my books even before I had one with writing on the spine(!); to Carrie Prange who was there before the poems; to the four who were willing to read and react to this collection (Award winning poet- Edna Shochat, Substack Blogger & face behind Kitchen Table Resistance- Judith Evans, Father David Wettstein, & Rev. TJ Remaley); to Mike Philley and Vera Noyce who took part in so many of these poems over high tea and lunches; to my son, Michael Duke, who convinced me not to call this book Sandwich Signs (whew!) and is always behind the scenes supporting me; to representatives of all my circles: (PICOT: Poets in the City of Trees), Women on the Verge (WOV), Questors, and Dreamers who all bore witness to individual poems (whether they realized it or not) and played various roles in their revisions; and to the innocent Biologist saddled with the proofing when I was out of town- Steve Duke, so much thanks! I also want to point out that without the help of Mike Philley and Carolyn Bevington who painstakingly helped to revise my very first book, In Your Bones, I would not have created all five of these books. I had no idea what I was asking back then, but they came through anyway, and for that I am grateful. To Meggan Laxalt Macky of Studio M Publications for seeing my vision for that first book as a service project and supporting it and every single one thereafter, and to the Women and Children’s Alliance for choosing to add it to their graduation bags for women who completed their training program. And to Meggan’s daughter, Erin Jensen of Golden Ratio NW, who carried on Meggan’s support in helping make the last two books something extra special (with illustrations and, did I mention, a spine?)! And to the unfamiliar faces who came on December 9th: YOU are the reminder that these poems belong to the world now and can find new homes with fresh interpretations that I never even dreamed of. And, of course, to the Boise coffee shops who fueled my muse! I even see my favorite barista from Good Times Bagels here which I am so grateful for (thanks, Cari!). I am also grateful for the music playing in the background of those coffee shops while writing and I compiled a sample playlist which is on the back table with a sampling of songs that provided the soundtrack for this book…
Signs & Psalms by Dena Parker Duke
SAMPLE PLAYLIST:
The Pretender by Jackson Browne
What’s Going On by Marvin Gaye
Trouble Sleeping by Corinne Bailey Rae
Sunny by Bobby Hebb
I Believe In You by Kacy Hill (featuring Francis and the Lights)
Free by Otis Kane
All the Right People by Cas Haley
