Category Archives: honoring

I am a shooter

18 Saturday Jun 2016

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I am a shooter.

In all the ways I hate myself, in all the ways I hate others,

in any destruction of life in which I partake,

in my cruelties and holding on to misunderstandings,

in any willful resistance to seeing difference as beautiful,

in my own brokenness, impatience, refusal to love,

I, too, am a shooter.

And how

may 

my life-

this singular life-

be a devotion toward loving and mutual living 

on this planet,

the one inhabitable wondrous place

we all share

and call home?

Born into violence and out of grace,

how may my breath move

from the one toward

the other…

With each day

I ask,

in the face of violence,

for grace.

chub and one rattle

17 Tuesday May 2016

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Young rattlesnake,
short chub and one rattle,
this day is dedicated to you.
Afternoon sun warms bare legs,
ferns stretch rootlets in wet shade,
cat licks paw pads,
and this heart pulses to new limits
of loving.
Every shedding of the skin adds
another rattle,
and a greater knowing
that less venom
is more.

Fullness

15 Sunday May 2016

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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.

Born thus far

14 Saturday May 2016

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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.

Love’s no

03 Tuesday May 2016

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Love’s no merry-go-round,

no sign up for the day and walk away thing,

no remembrance on Tuesday and a forgetting the other 6;

Love’s no yes-dear, whatever you say dear.

Love’s a wild one

whose hair, let alone heart will not

be tamed.

Because she expects the best of you, the most of you,

the oh you don’t feel like it -ha!- that’s funny of you.

Drag yourself to the ledge and peer over.

The view is not for the faint of heart.

Wishing yourself there is a waste of the work

your cells do without stop.

Come forward, rise up,

no other task is worthy of you.

Sacrifice the god of nice

29 Friday Apr 2016

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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.

I bow

21 Thursday Apr 2016

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Molting is awkward.
Ugly.
And completely amazing.

When stumbling in awkwardness, I am being asked to understand.
I bow to the learning.
When hiding from my own ugliness, I am being called to love what has been unacceptable.
I bow to Beauty by deepening her definition.

As feathers drop, the wind takes them.
In this lightness,
change.
In this change,
potency.