25 Thursday Jan 2018
Constellations on the ground,
stars underfoot,
snow falling in dark morning
on upturned face,
waiting hair, open palms.
Greeting a wide universe in winter-
its hush and hibernation beckoning on
hidden animals waiting
waiting
for a silent moment to show themselves
as weather weaves a way.
02 Tuesday Jan 2018
Are you a border dancer,
never wanting fully to be here and
forever a passionate sliver of now,
sipping the drops, and drinking the deluge,
wondering what place you actually occupy?
It’s a slippery stick
meant for the ripeness of the forest floor,
unintended for adolescent hands.
What feeds does not come from you-
one so easily confused, acting comically small and guilty.
Real nourishment soaks in with time and respect
from Beyond-
origin of nectar and mystery, the breast milk
of endowed life in service to the Gods.
Leave the stick to its mushroom duff
where growth and decay follow ancient rhythms.
Dance there,
the place unnameable, infinitely creative,
and belonging to no one.
07 Thursday Dec 2017
Posted in abundance, adventure, change, discomfort, dreams, light, nature, poems, poetry, transition
A lopsided egg of a moon
invited me into sleep
even after shutting the curtain against her light.
She stirred wakefulness,
and a sloshing fancy of dreams,
dreams of time travel and remembered people,
an upsurge of unknown futures and staccatos of history.
New land, an unwritten life, and no one to catch me
disturbs digestion,
but moments come when slow, long-distance swell
breaks overhead,
washing my shoulders, sucking at my ankles,
shifting immense vulnerability to a salty, and fresh excitement.
16 Thursday Nov 2017
Maybe it feels like standing forever in a head-high river current,
yearning.
Yet, igniting moments drop the belly
and lurch steps-
songs jump into hiccups, the nights being
so long.
And the syrup drip into sinews brought about by
–fill in the blank here–
well, if that thing, that other
is not what it’s really about,
what more enticing invitation could possibly surface
asking you
to re-weave yourself
into God?
15 Wednesday Nov 2017
With clouds pressing rising earth,
this heart bounds in resolution and song.
Perhaps the day is young, and loss fright will re-emerge,
but a ginger shift happened,
a burst of rhizome heat scattered sorrow,
and medicine spoke.
It is, as ever, bone close.
14 Tuesday Nov 2017
Being caught by gratitude
between yes and no, by was and is,
between having and not,
brings the dance.
Heart suddenly solid, present and strong
like stone, not ice, with loving-
goodbye floods body with needed nectar
for not an awayness or an isolation,
neither a grip nor a grab,
not a mine or a missing or a fright,
but a moving of grace
onward.
05 Thursday Oct 2017
A coral bell hanging
brightly
amongst its neighbors,
a bear trundling along
alone,
a cricket sounding an evening concert
loudly
in the kitchen,
each, perfectly, to its nature.
Were the bear turning this way and that
wondering
how he looks in his bearness, his gait,
his hunger,
or the coral bell wishing mightily
it could be a lily,
or the cricket seizing upon the desire to stomp
like an elephant through jungle-
Where would we be?
Thankful to the trueness of things
may we seek only
our own magnificent, and fleeting, natures.
30 Saturday Sep 2017
Sorrow pools,
tears break the rim and,
with them, shadow of knowing
that salty drops rise when it matters-
any thing,
something,
this thing-
and a quarter turn brings
appreciation,
saying
stop
in this place, now-
where old meets new
gently
and slow.
28 Thursday Sep 2017
Stars, warm wind, Morning rises
with purple sky.
Foucault pages rest in my lap yet
song of hummingbird through open window
means infinitely more.
A feeding tree- one plump with fruit and tiniest birds-
is black silhouette waking
into day’s light.
23 Saturday Sep 2017
Sun drapes her sheer cloth across the hillsides,
Mixed flocks, busy in fruiting trees, chirp amicably,
A chill has crept in at night, the woolens brought to bed,
and nothing so pretty as autumn has graced the canyon
in a long time.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 