15 Sunday Nov 2015
In the dream,
the medicine.
In the illness,
the cure.
With your mortality came your wisdom.
I lay myself down
alone on cold stone
to invite invisible guests
and their message.
In honor of the living temple-
both mine
and yours-
help me trust
in the staff and serpent.
13 Friday Nov 2015
few share this frequency,
but when the coin hits water,
when the hand beats drum,
when the eye reflects ray-
when image strikes surface of heart,
motion begins,
sound travels,
and we gather anew.
06 Friday Nov 2015
following the first rains,
earth perfumes the head
as damp and bay laurel and redwood rise skyward.
ferns unpin their curls at the feet of oaks.
kite and crow skirmish loudly
high above the crown of yellowing sycamore.
the river’s voice returns-
live music is never the same twice.
02 Monday Nov 2015
Yellow finches are preparing for rain.
While quick sky changes cast shifting light,
the fountain hypnotizes with song.
A ceramic mug of black tea rests on a knee,
and imagined scenes play out in my head.
With the wind tossing strands of hair,
I realize,
staying for the first drops to hit
may be the baptism I’ve been waiting for.
02 Monday Nov 2015
His voice finds me
before I seek the phone,
its sound
a net into which I could drop.
In the roughness of his hands-
iron and wood and earth.
In his touch-
light, eagerness and suggestion.
Miles suspend moments of definition.
I’ll listen and let contact fall
onto white paper.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 