08 Wednesday Mar 2017
Grass,
green, high, lilting..
Spring wears her tall rubber boots
and wanders through
from seedling to start, from birdsong to unfurling fiddlehead.
Crossing slopes slowly,
around and up,
She eventually meets their tops
having tapped every waking wildflower
with a wink and a sweet how-do-you-do.
Her hair trails behind her in post-storm breeze.
With a softened gaze, you’ll catch a snippet of calico print dress
somehow waving
from a corner of your own sunny imagination.
15 Wednesday Feb 2017
Movement
like rolling earth
after tectonic plates shudder-
It’s tough keeping your feet without
loosening up,
first,
and
laughing,
second.
Because when else can you ride
for free
anywhere you are,
with the benefit of losing
what you swore kept you alive but
only
brought you
down?
Go ahead,
remember the sound
of your own giggling insides and
jiggle a little~
20 Friday Jan 2017
A silence is being called.
Not
a silence of submission, or
apathy,
shame or forgetfulness– but
an emboldened silence,
one for hearing voices drifting
through cracks
and memory.
Listen.
Dear God, Listen-
a new way demands a creativity
well outside the bounds of what has come before.
This silence is gentle, receptive,
immensely strong.
Recall, from the depths,
how it is yours, ours, and
not.
Bones speak, be certain
they are included.
16 Monday Jan 2017
Shy at the gate,
toss your head, flip your tail,
switch ears, twitch nostrils-
a fine tension builds,
keep with it.
Shimmy your skin and whinny, yes,
a whoa-what’s-happening kind of alarm.
Stay with it.
That gate’s got words for you,
and not of a sort your brain’s going to comprehend.
They have teeth, and dirt, and a strange wind to them,
which may be the reason for the fleeting,
repeating
blood chills, maybe.
Rushing to run misses the opportunity.
Kick the temple bell with an eager hoof if you have to
but know
this place between,
at the gate before god knows what and you,
holds the field of promise.
Hang in, possibility calls you far,
far from the familiar.
07 Saturday Jan 2017
Those pesky brains,
the ones making a someone of a something-
who’s been serving them the kool-aid?
Settle them down before we cart them off
wearing special white outfits complete with ties
they can not undo.
We’ve categorized, cauterized, organized, familiarized
until the ize of the horizon is known.
Imagining may be cute when your feet are small
but now we must grow up-
taller, smarter, firmer in stance and action;
Up-standing people further things, uphold things-
We are the Someones of Somethingdom.
Reality has a timeline, afterall.
And, then, while we adhere and cohere
we’ll do something silly like have a child
who will see all we won’t
and giggle until she’s sideways
leaving at least one of us to wonder
just what exactly brings that spark to her eyes
and rolling thunder to her tiny, mirthful belly…
(Go ahead, It says- research that.)
20 Tuesday Dec 2016
Roots set in frosty, frosty ground
hugged by grit and worm and mole,
the slowlystretchinggrowing silence of
tips touching stonewetsoft.
Ears needn’t hear, nor eyes see-
vitality cups darkness
and nutrients find pathways
up up up
to light of day, and sharp starry sky.
The underearth knows quiet
and no-hurry, no-worry.
Sit awhile atop roots and wonder
just wherehowwho far
your own earth arms wriggle.
09 Wednesday Nov 2016
Black
is every color
crammed
in space too tight for light.
Our sickness
produces severe symptoms;
Projecting our own shadows on others
will keep us from finding our way through.
With the box now open,
the last of its contents spilled
into collective view,
comes the greatest need yet
for- yes- willingness and
a strong stomach (as it writhes),
but also
a softening of our individual, concreted ways and
an enlivening of curiosity and connection.
Where we go from here
is up
to all of us.
30 Sunday Oct 2016
What if we were as fierce
about seeing
finding
knowing beauty
as ugliness, fear, and lack?
Would we not become greater protectors
of the overlooked and precious?
Would our focus not
change
from what we want to avoid
to that asking
for further creation?
From being barefoot on rain-soaked earth
while sun breaks clouds overhead,
to cinnamon in coffee,
the perfect heat of a shower,
sustained note of a well-played cello,
to strangers reaching for each other’s hands,
and friends who have plenty to eat,
a car that starts,
the woodpecker we’d like to curse
for waking us out of sleep-only-
its tapping brought us a view of the sunrise,
and places in existence where peoples
are honored and heard.
Wouldn’t the goodness flood us
even if
nothing else could we sense but
the beating of our own heart-
wouldn’t miracles fill our days?
16 Sunday Oct 2016
30 Friday Sep 2016
A rock stands in your path.
A big one.
It’s the same damned rock you’ve walked smack into countless times,
decade after decade,
despite the changing terrain.
You walk the mapless territory, silently, wondering… how on earth?
Do you go around?
Climb over?
Finally hammer the blasted thing to pieces?
Your choice, always.
Fun part is-
this time
your decision may be unlike
any other.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 