14 Tuesday Oct 2025
When it comes to surrender,
better drink three hot cups of faith
following dawn.
Watch the light grow and, as your belly softens
in warmth, your eyes will braid upward,
adrift with the steam.
This life isn’t up to you,
not really, but the soporific of control sells.
Sit in your pillowed chair, stare out your version of
the sash window
and know, Mystery weaves us.
Our work is to listen for its music
and step into the slipstream,
longing and beauty our tiny rudder
within that flowing power.
21 Thursday Aug 2025
Posted in approaching, fertile, honoring, light, poems, poetry, prayer, seasons, transition
≈ Comments Off on Sliver moon pink
Sliver moon pink
in morning’s blooming light.
Baby raccoon sleeps, the Mountain presides.
Chipmunks race by, tails high.
Goldfinches feast on the generosity of sunflowers,
dry and nodding.
Soon, summer’s loud pulsing concert,
the countless crickets singing to Spirit,
will go quiet.
For now, warm nights still meet bare skin
and open windows connect neighbors
in their slumbering sighs
as the length of our days shortens..
09 Wednesday Jul 2025
As one sunflower reaches beyond the rooftop
and another suddenly aims straight northward,
enormous striped grasshoppers,
along with their small neon green brethren,
bounce every which way,
skitter piles of dry elm seedpods and creep,
sticky-like, slow, elegant and silent,
up the window frame.
They’ve been kind enough to punch countless holes
in the hollyhock leaves–
seems the Sun asked for more contact with the ground.
Kind of them to oblige…
23 Monday Jun 2025
Posted in liberation, light, listen, poems, poetry
≈ Comments Off on You..are..
Gah! I give myself away,
to their judgments,
their expectations,
their views and assumptions.
Silly cat! Bat those off the table,
paw pad after paw pad after whip claw..
We aren’t here to please them, to afford them,
to fit some pre-ordained shape.
Twist as you wish,
reach as is your nature,
climb, sink, thrive–all in the asking,
the taking.
Denying is reduction,
agreeing without agreement, sacrilege.
Nomad, go fly.
Maybe no one will understand you,
but you do–keep that scent in your nose
and follow it.
You
are
wise.
30 Saturday Dec 2023
The limitations of our fathers,
they are not ours to live by. See
and be done.
Do
and live beyond.
The next generations are here to end
that which came before.
24 Wednesday May 2023
Walking along
a smile comes easily.
The air smells green–
that much rain has fallen.
Crimson buds fill out on prickly pears
as beetles stack in consummation
and the crickets serenade.
Even the light feels pregnant this afternoon.
30 Sunday Apr 2023
Had I never entered this country
dark magic would have remained part
of fairy tales.
But tales are born of happenings,
not purely imagination.
What can be directed towards light can also
be twisted black.
Centuries of pain does that
to people’s souls,
leading them to avenge this blessed world.
Living amongst the workings,
talk will be talk, suspicion
suspicion,
and yet what I’ve seen
turns firm ground to putty.
You’d best not leave any hair behind.
Still, the cruelty that fuels and fires does,
in the end, destroy
those who’ve let ghosts poison them.
And the original curse
rolling through the generations lives on
until someone down the line breaks it
by gathering up their own light.
23 Sunday Apr 2023
The snakes are waking, I feel them
stirring below ground.
With each step through dry arroyo,
around sagebrush, around stone,
I prepare for the sliding S–
Sssssss.
Warming earth holds us both,
one oval hole under plump cactus,
one casita on a hill.
Hello quiet ones,
we two stretch ourselves toward growing light.
11 Tuesday Apr 2023
I live at the borderlands,
between mountain and grassland,
river and sea.
Here, vultures gyre above the hollows, high
as the peaks
in gliding circles,
where death meets light
and darkness greets the sun.
I live the in-between,
not expected, not sane, full
in constant emptying,
I rise as others fall, gather while
the confused lose.
Accompanying all, I am ever ready
to catch the tender hand
finally opened
by life.
I can not be held,
you will never be without me.
In cracks cursed for tripping you up,
that’s my nestling place.
I can not be found where money buys me, nor
in the thing anyone else swears will conjure me–
but my laughter will.
Eventually,
you will feel within
the kindness in those peals
and the years of loss, confusion, pleading
shall mulch the most fertile ground
you could set restful, strong,
willing roots into.
Welcome the borderlands,
for in them I dwell
ungraspable.
12 Saturday Nov 2022
Chittering morning birds pull me from the page–
eyes move from word toward sound,
where their light hopping feet bring me to flight
from bare branch, through 17 degree air,
to bark-covered lattice above the front door.
Frost, like gold flakes, falls from their trail in sunlight.
They have such great conversations.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 