30 Saturday Sep 2017
Sorrow pools,
tears break the rim and,
with them, shadow of knowing
that salty drops rise when it matters-
any thing,
something,
this thing-
and a quarter turn brings
appreciation,
saying
stop
in this place, now-
where old meets new
gently
and slow.
11 Tuesday Jul 2017
To the fierce woman–
not the girl, whatever the age, trying to look pretty,
to be nice,
not the girl in the woman’s body aiming
to be desired, seductive, adored, heroic, cool, mysterious,
No, no-
To the fierce woman who knows the song of her own heart’s beat,
who cares not about how she appears, but about who she is,
who isn’t reaching for the next best outfit, witty comeback, title or
right answer–
To the fierce woman who walks how she walks,
talks how she talks,
ages as she brilliantly ages,
sees how she sees and
loves how she loves,
my God, Welcome.
Welcome to this world.
You
are
needed.
19 Wednesday Apr 2017
Did you ever fall in love for the first time?
If not, I can tell you-
you’ll be changed.
The wind will be his kiss when he’s not
by your side,
colors will reach out with incredible loving hands,
the sweetness of a peach will impassion
every last one of your taste buds,
and music will have been composed, amazingly,
just for you..
Yes,
yes, that and more.
But that’s not what will change you-
not quite.
What will, however, rearrange your particles
after both the elation and inevitable suffering rip through,
what will wrap you up, enrapture your heart,
sing you to sleep, and bring you to greet each rising sun
with gratitude,
is a knowledge taught by your own body
that another’s adoration is not only not necessary
but that it was you who had to fall in love with you
all along.
But I don’t mean to ruin the game-
go forth
and fall.
01 Saturday Apr 2017
Longing comes with the light,
and sometimes leaves with it.
That’s how it goes when
nobody’s looking.
But a quivering dog needs a soft gaze
to make it real.
Gentle,
gentle with your eyes
and any movement-
this pup can’t take a stare
or a jumping out of your seat to say hello.
Fill a small dish by the door and,
when its brown eyes and cracked nose part
the hillside grasses, sit visibly
but out of the way.
This little one is hungry.
More than that, though,
loving.
11 Saturday Feb 2017
I think I’ll choose a valentine this year.
Maybe,
my valentine will be
the perfection of bells ringing
from the strand strung across the handlebars
of that bike slowly riding through town.
Or the wet bark of vanilla-butterscotch scented pine,
the one dropping sap spring into fall
for the bottoms of my feet to collect.
Or the lovely world view offered up by that children’s librarian.
Or the reflection of the silent patron
who sips coffee and dives into book and notebook-
shadow and light of paper, letters, pencil.
Or the hands of that man,
rough in all the right ways.
Probably, though, it’ll be the spark in your eyes
when the magic of this finite existence
brings a smile from rivers so deep
you never stood a chance to resist.
Hmm,
It might be worth checking your mailbox real soon…
31 Tuesday Jan 2017
Eyes heavy from reading news,
a seemingly apocalyptic caravan of events
and, yet, spirited fires light here, there, and there-
in me, in you, over the next hill where soft glow flickers.
Hours on the phone, speaking up, speaking out, thanking,
and yet another heart lifts during great challenge.
Tend to that fire consistently,
have water always near to temper and moisten,
eat of earthen foods to slow, slow
into the long journey ahead.
All are precious in this global transformation,
take another’s hand in yours in pure reminder.
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.
14 Wednesday Sep 2016
An act of love is a stone
dropped
into a body of water:
It ripples.
The world may be unresolvable
but
you can still make waves.
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
23 Tuesday Aug 2016
I can’t speak to you from here.
From here where I don’t listen.
But if I stop
circling and
running and
dodging
and
reaching..
If I lay down armaments
and armour
both weighing, separating,
isolating
me
from
me
and
me from you.. If
I lay myself down
upon your buried curving roots,
this bodily circulation
will remember
a tree-based rhythm,
an earthly pulse.
Without effort
the music changes.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 