Towhee hops
plip plip
in mown field.
Coumarin scent flagging.
If I could be that plump brown bird,
just this one morning,
I’d sigh in deep relief.
Plip plip
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
Category Archives: change
Mosaic garden
19 Tuesday Apr 2016
The most dangerous words
she spoke-
“…but he has a really good heart”-
a knife
cutting her own heart out
in sacrifice to his.
A ritual, repeated,
a trance-beat of the drum
thrum pum,
only not for something holy, as imagined,
but for destruction.
The cold knife now shattered-
dropped gleefully from great height-
is planted in pieces in the mosaic garden.
Among lush green and fiery blooms,
metal glints in sun’s eye
as earthly reminder.
Pearls
16 Saturday Apr 2016
Pearls lay before you.
Seek corn
and luminescence is not what you’ll find;
gobble your share and be satisfied.
Pearls lay before you,
touch light to see
and knowing will grow.
So it begins
03 Sunday Apr 2016
So it begins
with
but They but They
and the story pretzels and snarls
morphs into a thorny thicket
of
Yes but.
So it begins.
Reaching in with pruners and magnifying glass,
a madness of
I will get clear!
muscles work, tire,
eyes pierce, squint, wrinkle-
strength and a certain Sight grow.
One silent morning arrives
with a way through,
not simply a way through,
a path clear- as intended-
and They
are long gone.
Suddenly, dust still in suspension,
the same pain jolts its head through packed earth
and there’s no
But They
anymore.
Only you.
And so it begins…
At times
03 Sunday Apr 2016
At times, things are like
fumble
fumble
duck
slip
roll
bump
skid
drop
diiiiiive
ta-dah!
The grain mill
27 Sunday Mar 2016
Stretches
(or pockets,
or loop-de-loops)
of time
(meaningless time)
in transition
with sensations of being ground
in the grain mill,
where would we be without them?
In a blistering wind
anger rises and hands us the energy
to do away
with a trail of uselessness hitching
to our backsides.
(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)
Without halting in mad winds
who jostle our brains and
send hairs flying
we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds
of shit
attached to our spines
which
we can now let go of.
Hallelujah for stopping
to strike the match of compassionate flame
and throwing it on
a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.
Your next offering
24 Thursday Mar 2016
When things fall apart,
rest.
Pieces
litter the floor,
and probably your heart.
Let them.
A new equilibrium
finds itself
in the passing of light into dark
and back again.
Art gives time
another meaning.
The brokennesses-
curious remnants of another life-
are nothing.
Simply raw material
for the most exquisite
mosaic
and
your next offering
of soul.
That precious illusion
16 Wednesday Mar 2016
Knowing,
that precious illusion,
needles and digs
until
a gasp can puncture
and
welcome
Unknown
back into the dance
Stars burst into being
15 Tuesday Mar 2016
I am not your secret,
a thimble to tuck in a pocket.
Entire universes buck
at being diminished thus.
Fires rage, planets tremble,
stars burst into being.
If contracting a life into bite-size squares
soothes your longing,
please chop yourself to pieces instead.
Thimbles protect.
Creation expands…
Heavy rain
11 Friday Mar 2016
Heavy rain keeps falling,
and the creek keeps rising, singing
the canyon to sleep and the flowers awake.
Now, little wildflowers, now.
In the disturbance of sliding mud and uprooting trees,
every sweet squall and turbid cycle
does call us
to raise our heads
and offer a soft smile
as we are washed clean.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 