Category Archives: aging

Rest a while

24 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, change, Infinite, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, the road, wonder

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So the hot water doesn’t work,

the man divorced your ass,

the chickens became coyote snacks,

black widows took up residence along beside you,

flying ants infest the house,

your regular bleeding has voted for hyper-regular status..

what, what to do?

Yell, cry, tear out your hair,

drown in movies and wine,

sleep until it ends,

throw things, set others ablaze,

stomp around and,

and,

and

…

What else?

The toaster still toasts, after all,

and the dentist DID say your teeth are healthy and great,

the walk into the hills has redeemed you

before,

many many times before,

and why tear out perfectly good hair,

especially when it’s yours,

and yes, a rest in that bed sounds perfect,

because

you are tired, child, bone-deep tired.

And beyond the chaos and conundrums,

hallelujah resonates in your heart

with each

remaining

beat.

Hallelujah beats,

here in the mess,

hallelujah beats with you…

Sustaining fire

05 Friday Feb 2016

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, becoming, change, courage, death, devotion, freedom, gratitude, listen, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, presence, receiving, release, vision, wonder, work

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In sustaining fire

where we both met

what becomes smoke is not the matter.

Essence

doesn’t burn.

If, in flame, you see only loss

merely mettle takes the test.

And if, beyond even that, your heart cries

More,

the task, the unchanging call,

will encircle

with leaping light 

and silent whispers 

to say,

You are enough.

From here

06 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, change, devotion, discomfort, honoring, learning, movement, poems, poetry, release, the road, transition, work

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Before the flash flood breaches the banks,

Or heat melts fabric,

Or mind reaches the brink,

Step back.

In the too muchness comes a madness,

One you may never need know intimately again.

Pick up the thimble, oven mitt, helmet, or wand-

From here out you direct yourself along winding ways

In full grown possession

Of every sensuous, blossoming moment.

Two kinks in her tail

26 Saturday Dec 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, death, dreams, family, honoring, poems, poetry, receiving, vision

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frost on rooftops,
steam rising in ray of sun,
squirrel rests outside the window,
taking in a treetop view.
i dreamt of tortoise-shell kitty,
the feral girl with two kinks in her tail
who i buried so long ago.
calling urgently out the door
for my forgotten meow,
she came tearing up the wooden walkway
to jump in my arms.
glad to see ya, kiddo.
stay close,
let’s visit again soon.

Borderlands

04 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, becoming, change, courage, discomfort, Inspire, listen, lost, poems, poetry, receiving, release, the road, transition, work

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Along the borderline,
territory between nowhere and here,
a no-woman’s land.
As the barbed fence you’ve been following
runs out,
wire hanging,
wind and boot crush
contain the remains.
Stop walking.
Look far, gently,
in each sparse direction,
above and below.
A kiss will press your cheek,
hair will lift out of your face.
Even desolation carries Spirit.
Perhaps, especially.
Where the winds blow uninterrupted,
dry sweat into salted white rings,
room for Her grows.
Beneath an open range sky she spreads wings,
hovers,
inspires your scent.
In the borderlands, a map is only hope-
drop it.
You are being breathed-
oh yes, bigger journeys beckon
and instructions no longer apply.

Until now

29 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, becoming, change, family, honoring, lost, movement, poems, poetry, release, Sight, vision, work

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A vision may well peek from the crack
with cloudy newborn eyes,,
Step out, sticky, legs wobbling,
sensing whether this environment is ripe
for emergence.
A vision may appear,
reminding you of what’s possible,
then
disappear from whence it came.
Within the steam trail of its memory
and your belly’s pool of tears,
grief
for what could have been
and
a growing relief-
ah!
the nourishment for that dream
couldn’t exist
until now.

Sunrise laughter

13 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, becoming, learning, movement, poems, poetry, quotations, the road

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A sacred hunger grows

and tonight can’t possibly be the right time

to feed it,

but wine and the Hammond organ 

sure carve paths through

this wicked churchyard of a settlement.

Knock on my door in the morning,

my sight won’t be so cloudy

with delicious nostalgia,

and what sorrow erases clear vision

will lighten

with sunrise laughter.

A painting of night

12 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, dark, death, devotion, family, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, receiving, release, vision, wonder, work

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While hands rest on sink edge
and skin drips above dirty bowls,
eyes see wall and window and trees in view
of an idea
who drops in,
pulls as much space
as a full day gathers snow,
and says,

Your wound is their wound is a wound
far-reaching with cold, gnarled underground fingers.
Hold the hand you fear,
befriend the dead. 
Bring here of the gifts
your people await release.
Possess the expanse
and embody the unspoken…

Hearing the music of you
in a flooding of my entirety,
more life rises in death
than even a painting of night
could dream.

He sits

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by in abundance, aging, beauty, nature, peace, poems, poetry, work

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He sits,

this man in his garden,

on an upturned bucket

in the afternoon shade of an olive tree, 

smoking a cigarette.

His downward gaze surveys lines

of young plants, his recent work,

and plucks whatever potential-

of lazy thought

of future harvest

of aches, of history-

of each inhalation in his own world

where bees hover 

to take him in.