17 Thursday Mar 2016
How searing the Darkness.
Sights, dismissed, rise
through earthquaking uplift,
making smaller even
the microstrains of normalcy.
Withholding time from the forgotten,
the never known,
ends
when what had been thrown aside speaks,
“I am you.”
Thank the breath still given and
every fiber of your being
for the strength
to bring the orphaned and hated and dispossessed
close enough
to see the pain in their eyes,
and to assemble what Light
does soothe.
05 Saturday Mar 2016
The sound of the rain
is the best drumming offered my ears
in longer than can be said.
When telling a friend
I’m proud of you,
despite how patronizing it may sound, and
I recognize your fortitude,
a clear prayer was spoken-
fuck fortitude.
Amen.
In all the wriggling and stretching and pleading
and embracing,
Love’s got way more faces
than we can imagine.
09 Tuesday Feb 2016
Possum climbs,
turkey flies,
mountain lion scales
the world tree.
Let not the abstraction keep you
from seeking roots and canopy
joining here and now
to everything.
Rainbow’s colors extend beyond the range
of simple sight.
Ready your claws, flutter the brush tips of your wings,
and remember dangling from a curled tail
is familiar as waking with morning light.
Bark against fingertips,
each with their tiny circle of identity,
will become a welcomed roughness
softening into skill.
28 Thursday Jan 2016
in darkness
we may reach out for another
yet none but ourselves can reach in
to touch the loneliest trembling parts
asking
to be remembered
25 Monday Jan 2016
Between here and there
a stumble-
regret, fear, misunderstanding-
and dark becomes a sinkhole,
sky sucking through earth.
The holding fire remains in shadow,
seemingly doused,
for a time
while overhead and underfoot tangle
grip and pull
the many faces of you alone.
In a panic-replacing sigh,
a morning stretch and a here-we-go
momentum of lost space stirs
rich waters.
Silent sparks rise-
a new something takes form.
The undertow may carry promise yet…
16 Saturday Jan 2016
So you really never fit,
and now it’s more of a really really.
Shrug it off-
not fitting frees the exploring soul.
Neither want nor need nor longing, but
a deep call for rest
surfaces
through songs your bones sing,
once the clattering night noise settles,
in twists of incense smoke,
a meeting of damp earth and bare toes,
between falling canyon air and sun up,
and mountain lion’s lingering musk.
You’re in the wash,
a cycle of agitation.
Finding rising center means
letting it drop in
to find you.
13 Wednesday Jan 2016
walking a path
moments arise
when the ground underfoot
disappears,
a little free fall
gives new vision
upside
down
isn’t
right side up
unless
it happens enough
to be forgotten..
with full circle view
one becomes whole in the turning
06 Wednesday Jan 2016
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.
04 Friday Dec 2015
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.
26 Thursday Nov 2015
Sometimes, walls within walls-
a corner in a lit closet-
become the needed arms pulling you in
when being of the world steals too much of you.
The buffer zone softens,
muffles distant voices still too close,
settling scattered and jabbing elements.
This is you
learning how
to be your own port in every storm.
A day will arrive
carrying the gift of that small place
purely as memory.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 