15 Wednesday Feb 2017
Movement
like rolling earth
after tectonic plates shudder-
It’s tough keeping your feet without
loosening up,
first,
and
laughing,
second.
Because when else can you ride
for free
anywhere you are,
with the benefit of losing
what you swore kept you alive but
only
brought you
down?
Go ahead,
remember the sound
of your own giggling insides and
jiggle a little~
16 Monday Jan 2017
Shy at the gate,
toss your head, flip your tail,
switch ears, twitch nostrils-
a fine tension builds,
keep with it.
Shimmy your skin and whinny, yes,
a whoa-what’s-happening kind of alarm.
Stay with it.
That gate’s got words for you,
and not of a sort your brain’s going to comprehend.
They have teeth, and dirt, and a strange wind to them,
which may be the reason for the fleeting,
repeating
blood chills, maybe.
Rushing to run misses the opportunity.
Kick the temple bell with an eager hoof if you have to
but know
this place between,
at the gate before god knows what and you,
holds the field of promise.
Hang in, possibility calls you far,
far from the familiar.
07 Saturday Jan 2017
Those pesky brains,
the ones making a someone of a something-
who’s been serving them the kool-aid?
Settle them down before we cart them off
wearing special white outfits complete with ties
they can not undo.
We’ve categorized, cauterized, organized, familiarized
until the ize of the horizon is known.
Imagining may be cute when your feet are small
but now we must grow up-
taller, smarter, firmer in stance and action;
Up-standing people further things, uphold things-
We are the Someones of Somethingdom.
Reality has a timeline, afterall.
And, then, while we adhere and cohere
we’ll do something silly like have a child
who will see all we won’t
and giggle until she’s sideways
leaving at least one of us to wonder
just what exactly brings that spark to her eyes
and rolling thunder to her tiny, mirthful belly…
(Go ahead, It says- research that.)
01 Sunday Jan 2017
The new year could be a prism,
a prison,
an ache and an embrace.
We just never know,
until at once a soft wind settles and we do.
Offer a kindly nod to the dark,
and an opening of arms to the light-
both will accompany us the whole way;
it is our work to acknowledge and learn from
the full spectrum every day.
May we remember to create Beauty
and move skillfully as we can
with the cinnamon dance of Mystery..
And, please, mind the tenderness of little toes.
01 Sunday Jan 2017
Stitching time with you
brought me to the end of a thread,
one unkowingly finite.
Pushing my hand through air toward
your warm forehead, lightly damp
beneath a short cascade of brown hair,
mixed salt sour scent, barely perceptible
and more familiar than any other’s,
in a last inhale holding no more frustration
with the snap of that thread
and a long, tangled, eventually satisfying,
wordless goodbye.
20 Tuesday Dec 2016
Roots set in frosty, frosty ground
hugged by grit and worm and mole,
the slowlystretchinggrowing silence of
tips touching stonewetsoft.
Ears needn’t hear, nor eyes see-
vitality cups darkness
and nutrients find pathways
up up up
to light of day, and sharp starry sky.
The underearth knows quiet
and no-hurry, no-worry.
Sit awhile atop roots and wonder
just wherehowwho far
your own earth arms wriggle.
17 Saturday Dec 2016
It wasn’t through torn paper
blackened shoelace
or scuffed wall
that I found You.
It wasn’t the constant push
circulating fear
or I-must-do-betters..
not even the inch between
the sidewalk and me
plus a bruised knee.
Not exactly.
Add the non-starts,
regimented dreams,
what’s-wrong-with-me’s,
attempts to fit when fitting fed starvation,
and the broken heart- birthday after birthday-
with one shattering
nearly beyond recovery
that, finally,
I found You.
The joke being
that I’ve carried You in me
since before the first sunrise.
Except now,
when I say hello
I can hear You answer.
30 Friday Sep 2016
A rock stands in your path.
A big one.
It’s the same damned rock you’ve walked smack into countless times,
decade after decade,
despite the changing terrain.
You walk the mapless territory, silently, wondering… how on earth?
Do you go around?
Climb over?
Finally hammer the blasted thing to pieces?
Your choice, always.
Fun part is-
this time
your decision may be unlike
any other.
09 Friday Sep 2016
know those times
when there’s nothing to hold on to?
but the brain tries,
oh boy does it try-
it clings to the past, to the future, to what is wanted, to what is feared, to what has been or may be lost,
to what ifs and oh shits and
waaaaait what just happened?
that’s when it’s clear:
throw up both hands
– high into the air –
the ride
has already begun
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
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 