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.
18 Thursday Sep 2025
Confusion tumbles out of us,
violence and shame, ever pointing–
over there, over there.
Look in the mirror, friend, we each must
consider our part, the veins of ugliness within,
ignored, denied, pushed away.
Wounds need care,
sunlight and tenderness.
Otherwise, they fester.
None goes unhurt, none walks without darkness
to be held.
Point not that way, and that,
drop the pointer all together.
We are a we, and in it together to reweave
an old, old decaying story into blessing and art,
connection, nourishment and song.
What beauty brings us here now?
What Beauty to be bestowed back to Life?
Ask the ancestors,
they know,
ask the ancestors for help–
healing takes everyone, form and formless alike.
Let the new story begin..
it breaks through already
in the most delightful, unexpected ways.
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.
05 Thursday Jun 2025
Posted in liberation, motionless, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, void
≈ Comments Off on Contained
Serpentine movements toward
and away
based on nothing the culture expects,
impatiently demands,
only,
toward yes, warmth,
away from no, cold, mostly
in suspension,
blind,
asking,
when, lordy, when, and
is this my failing or some cosmic barometric pressure
holding
holding
heavy lid to the dark pot before,
until,
that heat can no longer stand but rise, fragrant,
a refusal of being contained,
twisting into an arcing freedom of sky.
10 Saturday May 2025
I draw nearer the Unknown.
How can I not,
to be closer to God is this;
Unknown–true Creation.
Not noble or shiny, maybe missing teeth,
limping, dusty and brilliant..
Stay close,
the past can not play out forever,
only mind does that,
read the signs, look for what’s different,
if, at a thought, ice fills your blood
and belly turns sour,
power has been tossed away.
Relax back into change,
those arms wait to hold you,
the generosity of a reliable and beloved friend.
Ride the horse.
04 Friday Apr 2025
How tangled we are
in the journey back to God,
the ever-winding, no two ways the same,
trial and error, washing the mirrors
of our own perceptions, struggles and joys of it.
But your way and my way, they quiver the web,
shimmer the web of which all
is part.
My awakening is your awakening
and back again,
waves of the One ocean
mothering every being, each singular thing,
into itself
again.
Nature recognizing its true nature,
life falling into love
with Life.
Here we are,
discovering what never
wasn’t there.
How funny.
02 Wednesday Apr 2025
I begin now,
and now,
now.
I am born here,
in this,
as this,
through that.
How many times can a person be born
in a single lifetime?
Infinite births.
Unending new; we are
Creation
always attending
to the delicious upwelling
of awareness.
Ditching the stories, clearing debris
of mind
by arriving
in this eternal moment.
Just words–
meaningless–
. . . until Lived.
27 Thursday Jun 2024
I have decided I may be losing my marbles.
But that’s not really the problem,
finding the hole they seem to be tumbling from is.
Were I able to locate that,
at least then, when I’m light enough to fly,
I’d know where the wind is whistling through.
20 Monday May 2024
Twisted linen in the closet:
rumpled skirt, wrinkled vest..
Who would imagine shirts
could dent.
Comical to even consider remedying that.
Seems I can not stay put.
A magnet polarized from place
when place is done.
Not that I want to be washed from the creekbed.
I’ve bolted, leapt, flown, jumped and been
catapulted;
I’m praying for a gentler crossing
this go round.
The hanging lines held in linen
are a telling road map
of more to come.
25 Friday Aug 2023
I will dance the confusion,
throw hands into smoke-laden air,
wreak the blockades of form imposed.
Dance the rage,
the rejection,
the finding when seeking’s not done.
Dance the diagnoses, the assumptions,
the warped expectations.
Dance the exploding starburst of my own heart.
What they hear
is not me.
What they see serves
their interests.
The shape of me,
the rhythms, my name–
I will dance it with fingers splayed,
feet lifting
off the ground.
I will throw down my broken song,
its weight and timing and edge.
This is my dance,
the only one I will ever get–
and no other can claim it
but me.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 