05 Friday Jun 2015
Events arise and show you
you can be made of jello-
in some especially unreasonable flavor like kiwi-
and your mind starts spinning and nothing is working and
everything seems wrong and
you’re busted, no broken, no worse
and
and
on and on and on
until
you stop believing,
look around,
recall that you’re breathing
in a flowering burst of recognition
that you simply
have
more to heal.
05 Friday Jun 2015
You climb the mountain,
slow step after conscious step,
and see before you stones, sharp underfoot,
angular in the strong sun..
Sweat beads and drips and
it’s a recognizable salty pleasure but
water,
water is good.
Sparse trees
bent
by the wind-
forbs wiggle in it,
hair every which way from it.
Steadily on, you walk,
glad for movement.
The peak looms large, but your tongue
and mind taste it.
Finally there- moments from the top-
and breathing deepens, eases, you
sigh.
Reaching the rocky lip,
not caring your laces drag behind,
you hook thumb under strap
of your heavy pack,
welcoming a stretch of rest..
When
you glimpse
what didn’t seem likely- not now,
not here,
not this,
but another peak in a range the map said
was done-
Oh unexplained territory,
unforetold valley and mountain ahead..
Silly map.
No one can ever anticipate
what lies ahead
for only you.
27 Wednesday May 2015
Stop drilling
your eyes
into
me.
Otherwise,
those bits built for wood
will bite
metal.
I’ve depths your dreams don’t even reach,
were it not so
you’d know better than to seek thus.
Fasten yourself, if you want
the sensuous ride-
let go and fall
inward.
There
you
will
find
Me,
the bodiless
embodiment–
She who has no name.
25 Monday May 2015
She leaves behind
a constriction of heart,
with protective, limited beating, and
steps into a centerless center
with rivers vast..
tributaries both drawing and feeding..
Headwaters spring silently
out of mountains, and build depth
hollowing gorges.
Miles and miles
of woven waterways, each
with a Song.
Her heart is no longer an organ but
a Way
with rhythm.
15 Friday May 2015
Wind scours Skyros,
casting off whatever doesn’t blow her alive.
Roosters call into her,
releasing ritual morning battle cries-
two voices,
one earthless,
one earthbound,
twist together in a marriage of grand and minute.
Cats own the streets below her gaping arms,
molding themselves into stone hollows,
low and restful,
knowing that to cling is to miss the beckoning..
Open opposite windows
and your room will fill with dervishes.
Drop it all,
unclasp fingers and release hold-
Spirit sings into nothing less.
12 Sunday Apr 2015
He always shows up uninvited.
And closed doors don’t slow him in the least.
(It’s like that when you haven’t a face,
a body
or a name.)
His approach sinks your belly like a battleship,
and ushers in a near silent gasp-
“Oh no.”
To which,
were anyone else to hear and wonder,
you’d deny ever uttering.
So you reach for a bottle,
and the volume button,
also the telephone, the tv and a book-
none of which can you pay any attention to,
breath having suspended upon his arrival
in singular focus:
that of prey.
And how, possibly, to get away…
Consider the difference
were you to put down the glass,
smile at the kids still out playing frisbee in the yard,
take a seat, look at him
and say,
“Hello, old friend. What have you come to tell me?”
12 Sunday Apr 2015
Out into space
a finger,
wrist, forearm, shoulder, neck stretches..
nose leads forward, head tilts
into the roll taking a body
down
away from what sustains into
the craving and desire to possess that thing
that woman that car that status that
tasty morsel that cons you-
that you con yourself-
into believing
will scratch the itch, quell the hunger,
satisfy that blasted longing leaving a belly growling
every morning
a body doesn’t fall into
itSelf.
10 Friday Apr 2015
Rewiring a body,
what with its arms and pinkies and patellae,
in knowing hunt
of the frequency of wind
through forest tops and hillside grass
as all else quiets,
of the partnered rhythm of breaking waves and
the ocean of this heart,
of the resonance in birthing sunlight
crossing far valley hills-
These sounds our bones hum
when the clutter and reversals and dust
have been cleared
from places they never belonged.
08 Wednesday Apr 2015
A swooping line
A twisting span
A rough hollow
An angle, sharp
A smooth soft warmth
A hard jumbled stretch..
With gentle fingers, slow contact
and light gaze-
the textures of your life,
this sculpting of who you are-
each day you explore form of spirit
and shape it with the quality of
your own touch.
Make it kind.
07 Tuesday Apr 2015
Wind rocks the trees
at last.
They’ve been asking when
they’d get to dance,
and only flirtations greeted their longing.
Rain wets singing birds,
the sound enters darkened sky.
Singing in a storm-
fruition of a lifetime’s work.
The invitation is always there.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 