Category Archives: movement

frequency

13 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by in movement, poems, poetry

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few share this frequency,
but when the coin hits water,
when the hand beats drum,
when the eye reflects ray-
when image strikes surface of heart,
motion begins,
sound travels,
and we gather anew.

early november

06 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by in abundance, change, joy, movement, nature, poems, poetry

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following the first rains,

earth perfumes the head

as damp and bay laurel and redwood rise skyward.

ferns unpin their curls at the feet of oaks.

kite and crow skirmish loudly

high above the crown of yellowing sycamore.

the river’s voice returns-

live music is never the same twice.

The first drops to hit

02 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, freedom, gratitude, movement, nature, peace, poems, poetry

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Yellow finches are preparing for rain.

While quick sky changes cast shifting light,

the fountain hypnotizes with song.

A ceramic mug of black tea rests on a knee,

and imagined scenes play out in my head.

With the wind tossing strands of hair,

I realize,

staying for the first drops to hit

may be the baptism I’ve been waiting for.

Accepting the task

21 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by in becoming, devotion, dreams, freedom, Inspire, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, receiving, Sight, the road, work

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The imprint of the dream, 

a sudden waking

a gasp

an “oh my god” and

you return

to the surface

from a who-knows-where and

a deep

dive

down

carrying now

a dancing fish.

Upon the glass, a reflection.

Through the glass, a being.

Beyond the glass-

a destination calling you forth.

Without end

begins

with accepting the task

that brought you here.

For the women in those photographs 

12 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by in becoming, dark, death, devotion, dreams, family, freedom, movement, naked, night, poems, poetry, release, work

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For the shes,

for the women who held in reserve everything but

what they betrayed in the fathoms of their eyes,

I dance for you,

let my laid-down hair fly

and skin sweat rivers

underarm and between thigh.

My laugh is the wild thing you withheld 

and the leap it was never safe

for you to take.

The salt this body gives up,

one gift I can give.

Carry me to where your bones rest,

I’ll bring the skull I’ve been handed

when calling guides from the directions.

You’ve yet to reach my dreams

but when you do

I know

your unpinned hair will be the least

of what you bring to night sleep.

Turning the corner

18 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by in becoming, courage, dark, death, discomfort, Inspire, joy, learning, movement, poems, poetry, transition

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Turning the corner,

two winds blow.

The old blasts my back,

picking up tacks and sharp-edged photographs 

along its path.

Those shes are afraid to let me go. 

Losing habits,

the groove-cut ways,

riles folks.

The wind in my face,

cold, fresh,

hasn’t yet warmed with the bodies of the unmet,

invites like a new swimming channel

whose water is clear, dark,

hugging smooth stone,

knowing well the course and direction

in which it takes me.

Turning the corner

dances my hair on end,

and has me falling forward

into invisible arms I must trust

to catch me.