21 Thursday Apr 2016
Molting is awkward.
Ugly.
And completely amazing.
When stumbling in awkwardness, I am being asked to understand.
I bow to the learning.
When hiding from my own ugliness, I am being called to love what has been unacceptable.
I bow to Beauty by deepening her definition.
As feathers drop, the wind takes them.
In this lightness,
change.
In this change,
potency.
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
Call me Pele.
All forms burn and
none stands outside creation.
Shake your definitions loose-
this is generosity.
The fires sustaining me,
I sustain.
Unbroken circle-
food, faethm, corage,
the Wild.
Do not question
if you desire
better.
For, certainly,
better
desires you.
19 Tuesday Apr 2016
The most dangerous words
she spoke-
“…but he has a really good heart”-
a knife
cutting her own heart out
in sacrifice to his.
A ritual, repeated,
a trance-beat of the drum
thrum pum,
only not for something holy, as imagined,
but for destruction.
The cold knife now shattered-
dropped gleefully from great height-
is planted in pieces in the mosaic garden.
Among lush green and fiery blooms,
metal glints in sun’s eye
as earthly reminder.
29 Tuesday Mar 2016
your Beauty
She’s an inner star.
Her light
dims
with attempts to purchase.
Put away the credit card.
Remember who you are.
27 Sunday Mar 2016
Stretches
(or pockets,
or loop-de-loops)
of time
(meaningless time)
in transition
with sensations of being ground
in the grain mill,
where would we be without them?
In a blistering wind
anger rises and hands us the energy
to do away
with a trail of uselessness hitching
to our backsides.
(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)
Without halting in mad winds
who jostle our brains and
send hairs flying
we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds
of shit
attached to our spines
which
we can now let go of.
Hallelujah for stopping
to strike the match of compassionate flame
and throwing it on
a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.
24 Thursday Mar 2016
When things fall apart,
rest.
Pieces
litter the floor,
and probably your heart.
Let them.
A new equilibrium
finds itself
in the passing of light into dark
and back again.
Art gives time
another meaning.
The brokennesses-
curious remnants of another life-
are nothing.
Simply raw material
for the most exquisite
mosaic
and
your next offering
of soul.
17 Thursday Mar 2016
How searing the Darkness.
Sights, dismissed, rise
through earthquaking uplift,
making smaller even
the microstrains of normalcy.
Withholding time from the forgotten,
the never known,
ends
when what had been thrown aside speaks,
“I am you.”
Thank the breath still given and
every fiber of your being
for the strength
to bring the orphaned and hated and dispossessed
close enough
to see the pain in their eyes,
and to assemble what Light
does soothe.
15 Tuesday Mar 2016
I am not your secret,
a thimble to tuck in a pocket.
Entire universes buck
at being diminished thus.
Fires rage, planets tremble,
stars burst into being.
If contracting a life into bite-size squares
soothes your longing,
please chop yourself to pieces instead.
Thimbles protect.
Creation expands…
05 Saturday Mar 2016
The sound of the rain
is the best drumming offered my ears
in longer than can be said.
When telling a friend
I’m proud of you,
despite how patronizing it may sound, and
I recognize your fortitude,
a clear prayer was spoken-
fuck fortitude.
Amen.
In all the wriggling and stretching and pleading
and embracing,
Love’s got way more faces
than we can imagine.
28 Sunday Feb 2016
We played with our shadows on the far riverbank,
and danced to droning rhythms under redwoods,
my sister and I that night.
Nothing we couldn’t touch, that didn’t touch us,
with laughter, stars and river song
mixing our blood
and pleasing our bones.
Out of mud and desire,
family creates itself.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 