12 Friday Feb 2016
What comes today
is a certain vast unknowing.
And not the passing everyday variety of
hmmm
what might i have for breakfast?
But of dipping flight of bluebirds
and the melodic chants of meadowlark.
I don’t think the lady bug hitching a ride on my calf
had less than the feeling
sweeping spring grasses before god.
Please call in
what you fear will destroy such a small house.
You deserve what undulates the desires
of entire galaxies.
11 Thursday Feb 2016
I want the peace of the dark
and first mad blushings of light,
silent cloud bellies bursting orange
and a sky gone turquoise.
I want the bare of my feet,
upside-downness of skin,
pressing moist, giving earth
and birds to flit past in dim cool.
There’s not too much to sing,
only just enough
to recreate forever.
16 Saturday Jan 2016
So you really never fit,
and now it’s more of a really really.
Shrug it off-
not fitting frees the exploring soul.
Neither want nor need nor longing, but
a deep call for rest
surfaces
through songs your bones sing,
once the clattering night noise settles,
in twists of incense smoke,
a meeting of damp earth and bare toes,
between falling canyon air and sun up,
and mountain lion’s lingering musk.
You’re in the wash,
a cycle of agitation.
Finding rising center means
letting it drop in
to find you.
13 Wednesday Jan 2016
walking a path
moments arise
when the ground underfoot
disappears,
a little free fall
gives new vision
upside
down
isn’t
right side up
unless
it happens enough
to be forgotten..
with full circle view
one becomes whole in the turning
16 Monday Nov 2015
Bathed by cricketsong
in dying light,
tiny apples burst round on the limb.
Fall swoops
like twilight bats
and trails of smoky ritual.
Guided by questions,
a door opens,
letting the irrational and mysterious
walk through.
I offered you rage.
You returned it as fertility.
Thank you.
06 Friday Nov 2015
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.
02 Monday Nov 2015
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.
27 Sunday Sep 2015
Talking with stones,,
Orb weaver builds ladders to the sky,
Screeching hawk tells me where I am,
and Vulture lands
large
to roost in his pine..
Still stones speak–
I will build you a home
here
every time you ask.
19 Saturday Sep 2015
Beneath skins and fur
I too rest in beauty
Let not a hand touch me
and still
I smile
For what it’s worth-
which, in a blink, may stack higher
than last year’s wages-
there is no fading value,
nor lost horizons
Forever always reaches towards us..
In a crisp pink angle of morning light
my heart is yours.
06 Sunday Sep 2015
Nocturnal orb weaver
has tucked herself away,,
Vulture, high in dead pine,
splays tail, fans wings wide,
back to rising sun.
Soft voice and pedal steel round the room
while Crow wanders the rail,
head cocked, assessing what’s new.
Birdtalk through treetops-
woven richness of life
finding life.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 