06 Friday Feb 2015
Walking away,
woman with half face stands
where I’d been,
calling me to her in stolid silence.
She, an anatomical waning moon,
skin missing.
Her muscles and unprotected eye,
blood vessels and nerves and skull,
within her wholeness,
watch-
calling me back.
I turn, meet her eyes,
and approach her knowing,
nothing but this, nothing but this.
05 Thursday Feb 2015
Posted in discomfort, family, lost, poems, poetry
≈ Comments Off on The passing land
My belly dropped,
not from driving over the hill
but from hearing his words
delivered at its crest-
This surprise,
crafted of unwanted elements,
was not for me.
Following the highway,
together,
I gave my attention to the passing land..
There was nowhere else I could go.
Thankfully, at this, I was practiced.
03 Tuesday Feb 2015
I’m being remade.
Deft hands tear the fabric of me,
without wasted movement
or hesitation:
clean lines, no dangling threads,
and fluid rearrangement of
color
pattern
texture.
These quilt pieces,
cloth made of the stars,
the ocean floor’s curvy sand,
flocks of birds,
tree bark,
sweepings of sky at sunrise
the yearning blue of twilight, and
the sparkle in eyes when the heart sings through,
a unison growl,
and hum of any satisfying meal with friends.
Stitches holding me together dissolved, long ago,
what few held were torn-
quick snap and done.
When this is finished, this blanket,
or cape,
or kite,
or skin,
I won’t need it.
Until then,
I thank the tailor
sewing me back together,
my cloak the feathers of great
and able-bodied raptors,
the slipperiness of fish nestled in close rock caves,
the ambling walk of bear, his fur
a submission to all
he isn’t.
29 Thursday Jan 2015
The absinthe cloud of memory
forgets the sugar
when heavy footfalls approach in the dark,
a trickery of echoes-
when an unlit train flies along a track
from direction unknown.
Blackness deletes orientation.
False terrain tells lies.
Still.
Breath loops, settles.
Hands tremble.
Fear’s got nothing on me,
I’ll take this ghost for what he’s worth.
At minimum,
I can steal his shadow and pawn it
at the next depot.
26 Monday Jan 2015
Luminaries,
the light-gatherers who bring us ecstatic pause,
the people who’ve cultivated exemplary skill
at recognizing, creating and embodying
divine beauty,
honor the workings of unwanted pain,
their discovery founded on its gifts
of transformation-
that which possesses the hands of a master sculptor
able to chisel the lumpy,
the obtuse,
the encumbered,
into finest form.
What we call,
eagerly,
negative emotions,
these are the tools of our own sculpting.
Strange to dismiss and condemn
the exact movements that take us,
with attention and intention,
directly from coal to diamond..
Fear
couldn’t possibly deserve the power
we give it.
Weighing into unknown,
that abyss above which we think we’d rather dangle,
held back by the collar,
befriends mystery-
a sure-footed way to be a source of light
even when entirely alone.
21 Wednesday Jan 2015
Skillful communication
is exploratory, juicy, inclusive-
an invitation to scratch the ears of curiosity.
The delicious outcome
of reading lasting writings,
indeed,
the consequence of every artful celebration of life
I’ve been fortunate enough to stumble headlong into,
has been a bodily and spirited hallelujah.
You know those works-
they arrest us, grab, inspire and
open us,
they draw us out, tuck us in,
return stolen tears, stir forgotten laughter,
drop bread crumbs along our path to help us get home again.
Whatever our craft,
our creations allow us to give back
to an ever generous world.
Writing is my way of giving back.
I write to keep love in motion.
21 Wednesday Jan 2015
Symmetry:
Who ever planted that lie?
Why, it has grown invasively
in our minds.
Imagine
a tree, perfectly symmetrical-
it’d be the oddest specimen
in a lifetime of experiencing trees.
Asymmetry becomes the stamp
placed upon us,
not by birth alone,
but through time,
here,
walking and breathing.
Our bodies,
equally uneven, gnarled,
are intentionally so.
Hearts, lungs, breasts, testicles,
all
marvelously asymmetrical.
Our fingers and toes, like rootlets,
twisted,
play different roles
simultaneously.
Balance requires movement
to counter forces
both inside and out.
We constantly strike deals
with elements seeking
to liberate us.
And, through that making,
like the trees,
we are infinitely more captivating.
16 Friday Jan 2015
I can’t breathe
though I’m breathing..
Diaphragm falling
at last
into place,
true place,
and my brain
spasming,
messaging that a vital function isn’t
functioning.
Question the origins
of a wavering trajectory
and gasps of light
will greet at the gates,
beyond them a polished and golden
curve.
I am here
wholly exploring,
willing to sit
with a death mask upon this face
and a seizure of mind-
a dropping off a cutting loose a sightless learning-
in the brilliance of human adaptation,
minus now
the holding of echoes
of voices never invited.
I am awkward,
a toddler taking first steps,
exhilarated
tippy
walking-
it matters not where, walking!-
and happy to plop backwards
onto a soft diapered bottom
because I’ve done it-
In lacking restriction,
I’m finding the breath to empower both
movement
and
circular song.
27 Monday Oct 2014
Eight nimble legs stretch
across my face,
skitter quickly past,
beneath an unknown corner
of warm morning covers.
Shiny
Black
Fast
Poisonous
Repeated visitations
since birth
leaving me in the dark,
until now.
I am she.
Choosing the quiet places
to be master architect
of my own home.
Delicate by design
Agile
Solitary
Capable
Strong
Graceful,
her qualities, welcome,
especially when facing fears
quick and dangerous-
biting only
when unseen,
and uncared for.
Mind the delicate ones,
their power remains hidden
until needed.
21 Tuesday Oct 2014
Neither glabrous nor symmetrical,
lasting Beauty wanders
away from prescribed uniformity
and the wasted effort of rebellion.
In her,
the dynamism of bliss.
Fires consume obstacles, illusions
becoming the skeletons
of lace wings
honored in their sculptural ephemera;
in the end, they flutter,
blown free by gently pressed lips.
Light stretches into full expression,
at ease,
with plenty of room
to move.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 