30 Tuesday Oct 2018
The knots in the wood strong
hands might try
to force flat and out,
erase..
impossible.
The tree has earned those twists and kinks,
hardened, toughened grooves and bubbles,
bulged eyes skilled at a different sight.
Gentle the hand given access
to the yearning, sorrowed places-
they are not to be fixed.
26 Sunday Aug 2018
If a push,
somewhere a pull.
Where taken,
pray it has been given.
The Western sense of community..
in itself a paradox?
We’re part–everyone–of centuries of history
cycling, tumbling, molasses-thick onward
with nanosecond “advances.”
No mystery that you, and you, and I
can not seem to catch our breath.
Faster is not forward,
as bigger not better, nor more money success.
Where lies the soul stuff making life
Life?
22 Thursday Sep 2016
Being an untamed tributary
of a river whose origin reaches far
into depths unkown
brings twists of bramble,
leaping fish,
frog and cricket symphonies,
bats dipping low in twilight-
when settling into quiet lulls.
In rugged young churning-
escaping water
pulls earth, boulder, tree to itself
as passion builds with heavy rains,
filling banks,
carving hungry routes,
chewing civilized lands and
renewing plots left withering.
This tributary is this and more,
trading nothing away
in honor of its nature–
wild, strong and unpossessing.
04 Sunday Sep 2016
Love isn’t
always soft
is
untidy
(a raw egg yolk held
in hand)
has sharp edges
– humans dabble –
Love’s a ritual
a practice
a devotion
a learning
an art
Love is difficult
playful
strong
it’ll kick your butt
and
no craft
can possibly
outshine it
28 Sunday Aug 2016
Being sculpted
means
being thrown,
as clay,
first kneaded- no bubbles – then
spun
well beyond dizzy,
cut,
and fired to degrees
scorching
even by shuddering imagination
if
your aim is to be a
cup,
vase,
bowl,
holy space ripe
for filling,
able to offer solace, pleasure,
delight,
beauty, compassion,
ease,
and round reflections of sky.
Don’t hold on.
Be here.
24 Wednesday Aug 2016
This cracked and dusty pain rested
in a distant corner
season upon season-
never gone,
napping at most-
waiting
for a fresh split
to draw bright blood.
Not to be resolved, or
fixed,
but lived
in
through
with
beyond.
Yet again, it is not mine
alone.
I live it for you, as
you for me.
A new light breaks
in the dark.
15 Sunday May 2016
Were i
to reach for the stars
my pants would fall down.
Today requires earthly attentions.
Keeping up trousers may be
the ultimate action
while loftier desires
could knock me, particle by particle,
straight out of orbit.
Cupping a star in two small, mortal hands
must wait
until palms can remain steady
holding an infinitude of concentrated light.
Honoring
means discerning–
Here, fantasy. Here, reality.
With that slice we both
possess
the fullness of flourishing space.
14 Saturday May 2016
An open chair awaits you.
Clearing it of a tumbling-height stack
of NOs
took some doing.
Approximately four decades worth.
And now that the rich, carved wood and velvet
of that high-backed chair holds nothing of mine,
there’s space for you at the table.
Admittedly, food hasn’t been cooked…
Uhm tea, however,
I’m ready to commit to.
Candle, flame and flowers adorn
ridged lengths of milled tree
where our cups may sit.
Breath hasn’t yet dropped to belly-
waiting on your arrival out here in the valley
has caught it between Yes and Oh shit.
A place here, with me,
at a royal oak table welcoming us both
is the stretch of generosity and strength
born thus far.
29 Friday Apr 2016
A watermelon, round.
A sword,
heavy-hilted, ornate, decisive.
Raise the blade,
two-handed,
and drop sharp steel through rind,
flesh,
rind;
Sacrifice the god of nice.
Free her from the bondage
of acceptable mediocrity.
Spill seed,
honor sweet juice.
Initiate of destruction-
break open the tidy container
or
she will rot,
denied of her original gift.
This inborn generosity
invites feast.
Fill your belly.
03 Sunday Apr 2016
At times, things are like
fumble
fumble
duck
slip
roll
bump
skid
drop
diiiiiive
ta-dah!
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 