22 Friday Aug 2025
Searching for words is seeking water
mid-mesa.
Not a tree in sight.
Blessed sage basks in full sun.
Rain falls, drifts away.
Soon tarantulas will promenade,
romancing their coupling dance
to create the next generation.
No, the words are water
and the Maker decides when and how
they drift or drive or well up
through this hollow reed.
Let syllables drip from the tongue unsought,
honey for those hungry
and in need of that particular soul balm.
02 Thursday Jan 2025
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Withstand the Void.
Please.
Be upon your own two small feet,
at the edge,
darkness cloud-forming,
ledge a tipping perch.
Night ocean crashes on rock straight below,
the rhythmic waters moon-guided, rich and dangerous.
Call forth in echoless open and
wait,
the wind will snap and take it up.
Let the Void offer
all your fears, inadequacies, foolishness,
rage, grief, shame and sorrows.
Be with them.
Sense their intolerable
movements in your one body–
these are the monsters
you are to marry.
In union, living through and beyond
your exiled, an invitation
to what Beauty is yours deeply,
the gift to be offered back.
Leave no aspect behind–
you are here to love the denied.
Blood needs circulate.
Bones need grow. Air must enter.
Bring the outcasts and castaways under
warmth of your grand cloak.
Allow them refuge of your beating heart.
Welcome the unwanted,
a feast-filled table is set to feed everything
in dawn of this new year.
14 Thursday Nov 2024
I see her, red hair aflame,
paint flying.
Swaths of blackest black,
gashes of scarlet–
blood, bone, ash, scorch,
ochre of marrow.
Enough words, make image.
Shock the system with truth,
Pandora’s box wide,
coffins nesting
and thrown open, skulls screaming out,
souls of generation upon generation of women:
This will not stand.
This will not stand.
No!
12 Monday Aug 2024
Driving along
and a sudden elevator drop in my chest.
Riding that familiar riversong of sadness a moment,
I understand–ah–
my old, precious friend
is holding a conversation I’ve heard countless times.
Now I can recognize her disguise.
Funny mask, dear one,
but a confusion belies those heavy, tearful eyes.
Stress, strain, the much too muchness of things
brings you here.
Rest, love.
Hide in your cubby hole and come out
whenever you would like to sniff
the riotous wind again.
26 Wednesday Apr 2023
While endless talk,
noise of commercialism, opinion,
celebrity,
fills too many spaces,
when chatter closer to home gets
incessant
remember
that is sound of a disturbed heart.
And we’ve far, far too many of those.
Step silently back
and recall what tender talk,
a creek rolling through, touching
sides, stones, roots
speaks of–
its landscape of blood, tissue and bone–
that which sustains, holds and guides it
along the journey.
When the child enters, or one of the countless
yet to be heard,
please,
listen.
Robins do not sing
for nothing.
24 Monday Apr 2023
When touched, woman’s nipples are not to pucker inward,
When touched, woman’s soft cave is not to dry and contract,
When touched, her heart is not to hide away while
her clothes are removed.
When touched.
This earth, this fertile woman
bringing all life, creating
breathing pulsing offering–
always offering–
She is not meant
to be gashed stripped clawed mined
TAKEN
.
When touched, we women
are to be held, to be sung to, to be danced with,
our laughter our moisture rising
to swaddle and bathe the world.
Sing to us, allow us, see, listen to, wait for and
welcome us…
Let our own hands guide you.
When touched,
above all
be gentle.
11 Tuesday Apr 2023
Surprising
what we cling to
the stuff and ways
that serve us no more.
Time comes
when what must break
will be broken
and the methods once keeping you alive
those now killing you
ask for burial.
Honor them..
No easy terms to dodge.
No simple way out.
Break or be broken.
Give over, give up, give
to the starving one in you
who can no longer live unnourished.
Let die
what must die.
Your flourishing life depends upon it.
12 Saturday Feb 2022
Somehow it is February and 79 degrees.
What a wonder.
We have entered a new world, mostly of our own making.
Turning back is a fantasy holding some together,
imagining it isn’t happening holding others.
Our earth mama talks with us, through us, always–
she shows more loudly by the year
the honest consequences of our actions.
Birds sing loudly on the other side of the open door,
more kinds than usually heard in chorus.
They bathe bathe bathe and chitter, twinkling songs..
A magical day,
yet strange.
Prayer flies through the open door that we all learn to listen,
listen and praise, find ourselves on our knees ready
for change that serves Life.
20 Monday Dec 2021
If your love has courted you
winding and strong
to the door of Death, again, again,
ya kinda gotta wonder- – what
in
the
hell?
(An exclamation ! floowing from that question
seems most appropriate
but not in sting of a shaming judgement, No, no,
as it needs usher in a tender resignation,
an emollient of wondering in which
you slip a hand beneath that tiny bird,
approach slowly with soft eyes to ask,
how, oh how, did this loyal heart of mine learn
to love like that, to love those with inclination,
without qualm,
to do those things they’ve done?)
A new snail trail, steady and true, awaits
in this, the second half of life . . .
12 Sunday Apr 2020
They’ve opened up the moon to mining.
We have opened the moon to be mined.
The news rakes my insides raw.
Somehow it, amid the chaos of now,
pushes so far beyond the line
I can barely stand.
Yet
this is where we are.
And what tiny thread appears for me to follow,
thin as for sewing on a button,
is in total,
Love it while it’s here.
Love it while it’s here.
And, really, might that truly be
our utmost in the end:
Love it, whatever it is, while it’s here.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 