01 Wednesday Apr 2026
The stirrings in me
are the stirrings in You,
a thread binding us that vision can not seek yet
heart and belly play, both, as one instrument
of longing.
Call up my voice,
that which is Yours
and sing,
sing,
sing
through me…
15 Wednesday Oct 2025
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Time, in circles, rolls and spirals on..
we’ve been bamboozled and blinded by firm
starts and finishes–
Yes, birth to death,
but this existence is no line.
Pluck a stitch and you’re speaking with your grandmother,
dead long thirty years back.
Pick at another and your future babies,
whether this life or another,
giggle in morning thunder.
Our brains have been trained
by unnatural and convenient beliefs
unrecognized as such.
Put on a pair of enormous shoes borrowed
from a stranger and step..one
two three..
backwards to gather a new look
at the vastness of stories dancing about.
Teach your eyes to see the impossibly invisible,
what tires and confuses you now becomes,
in truth, a consequential but very funny
game–
remember your heart
and play it well.
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.
02 Wednesday Jul 2025
Clouds form over the distant olive hills,
soft in morning light.
By afternoon, when heat has cooked the world white
and this desert sky holds back some of its blue,
those same clouds will tower and be belly grey and thick,
heavy with rain they can’t wait to loose.
Our bodies will vibrate with thunder.
26 Thursday Jun 2025
A fresh blood, now, runs from this wound,
dripping thick, womb-blood red,
to thirsty ground.
The trail follows me as I leave,
planting stones.
Each feeds dark Earth,
sticks weapons of their confusion, fast.
My back, low belly, my heart unwilling,
unaccepting soft targets,
half a lifetime on.
Planting stones returns
this deepest and cruel ancestral story
to the Mother who fashions stone into gold,
medallions for witful generations to come.
Flowers may bloom, cool waters may move,
Hummingbird brings those open prayers
to Heaven.
It ends with me.
I walk away into land of blowing dust,
with stars shining straight from the hands of God,
I walk away toward the fire
ever burning on…
01 Sunday Jun 2025
Critters chasing through high trees,
squirrels limb to limb and birds,
in flight, one to another to another,
and the song,
songs,
braiding on the wind,
wind gathering applause of soft and hardening
oak leaves,
dark, thick, fresh to the season,
and I,
far into the unsettling,
year of the unsettled,
take counsel:
keep faith, drop the choking self-doubt,
open back up, out, into Spirit–
no flower is itself
without
loss,
loss of safety’s deceit.
Nothing guarantees certainty but
betraying yourself for mere
survival.
That rushing in?
Trust it.
05 Monday May 2025
Bees have buried themselves
in crab apple’s blooms,
hummingbird launches skyward,
chattily, all the frills of mating on display.
Stripey-legged bobcat’s ghostly moves
stitch the garden knoll
while anise hyssop digs into her new home
and calendula flowers at hollyhock’s feet.
Everybody’s humming their song…
21 Friday Feb 2025
A sister dies,
and in morning
the robin atop a bare-limbed tree sings,
and sings,
bold rusty breast full toward sunrise.
Frost clings to windows,
the fuzzy round-leafed plant beside the door,
and plans.
Nothing moves.
Arranging a future, an impossibility,
a flourish at the end of a dance
not being danced.
Coffee, a book, clean water,
a quiet night,
follow the small blessings.
They are, really, thousands of rocky miles
from small,
tall as the crown of a tree attracting music
to the cold, restful,
fading dark.
03 Monday Feb 2025
Lightest snow falling,
earthward stars drifting,
fireflies curious to kiss the ground,
and a new birdsong has joined dawn.
Migration keeps on,
my breath expands with the music
and I smile.
The art of waiting requires immense courage,
no panic at the unknown can fix it,
choices wrenched from an undeveloped state
only put off the inevitable.
Wait when the waiting asks.
You’ll see its velvety cloak swish
from the corner of an eye.
Wait.
Dissolution and decay create the fertile
in darkness.
Until a yes, an enoughness of a way, opens,
no right action.
Seeds know when,
now is for tending inner terrain
and now is for trust.
In the waiting, the fruit.
15 Wednesday Jan 2025
There’s a coyote
who prances for prey, alone,
bushy tail and quick jaws,
out by the downed orchard ladder,
knows
each morning,
to amble by, crosswise, unhooked fence
to closed.
I don’t know where he wanders but
his visits thread the world,
animal to animal,
and my mind follows full marled fur
beyond the wire and through the long field
of thin-armed oaks.
The next meal is plenty to concentrate on
with wide openness,
allure, risk, and slow lichen growing,
a bounty of waiting.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 