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…
31 Tuesday Mar 2026
I wake with birdsong
while all is dark,
apple blossoms, lotuses upon the branch,
sweeten the air as I mourn.
Spider drops down into the sink
to sip from a droplet of water.
What we lose now makes way for what is to come,
there’s more yet unimagined
that will light our way…
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.
24 Wednesday May 2023
Walking along
a smile comes easily.
The air smells green–
that much rain has fallen.
Crimson buds fill out on prickly pears
as beetles stack in consummation
and the crickets serenade.
Even the light feels pregnant this afternoon.
26 Wednesday Apr 2023
While endless talk,
noise of commercialism, opinion,
celebrity,
fills too many spaces,
when chatter closer to home gets
incessant
remember
that is sound of a disturbed heart.
And we’ve far, far too many of those.
Step silently back
and recall what tender talk,
a creek rolling through, touching
sides, stones, roots
speaks of–
its landscape of blood, tissue and bone–
that which sustains, holds and guides it
along the journey.
When the child enters, or one of the countless
yet to be heard,
please,
listen.
Robins do not sing
for nothing.
09 Wednesday Feb 2022
Sitting there, facing a willowy creek,
alders tipping their heads over the pavement,
the girl goes ‘Aauchgh!’
It may have been because of a masterful song
warbling out my mouth,
‘Ohh the sheep dung’s got strong, oh
oh and it wafts in the wind, oh
sheep dung smooooke…’
That may have been what got up her ire,
she was doing homework in the other front seat
afterall,
but who’s to say.
‘Ohh the sheep dung’s got stroooong today…’
‘Aauchgh! Stop!’ She yurdles,
(not sure that’s a word, but she did it),
while holding back the quivering corners of her mouth,
trying very hard to be
s e r i o u s.
‘Guh, stawwp!’ But I can’t ya see,
because that dung sure’s having its way today.
So, the song keeps going and the girl keeps groaning
and all is well,
sitting and waiting under the waving alder trees.
27 Sunday Jun 2021
Last I wrote, a river–the River–spoke of pain
guiding the carving of your banks,
erosion of soils meant to flush and drift,
to migrate and feed downstream, freed up
to do work really intended,
as it exposes rock, the talking stones
holding spirit to place.
It didn’t get much traction.
Today, I can offer that that River isn’t all water,
but Wind
and Song…
Twitterings rise from the bathing towhee
utterly beheld in the flesh reaching waters
from where she sings and wiggles
every noodley wet feather, bone and muscle.
From tub to branch she flits, rubbing (always)
her beak first–this side then that–
and shakes complete giggling pleasure,
full release, refreshed.
That, too, is the River, the Wind, the Song.
Somehow the unrelenting ache brings you there, too,
shining the dull parts
in a reflection of glory.
04 Saturday Apr 2020
A man walks beneath black umbrella,
Calla lilies bloom in the rain;
A woman stands at the kitchen window
staring out with soapy hands and sponge,
singing,
“And you look at yourself,
pacing the cage…”
The playground is taped off in yellow tape,
A child speeds home on scooter with no cars in sight,
“All the spells I could sing, it’s as if the thing is written
in the constitution of the age…”
Grass is greening, lungs ache,
and hearts are breaking,
“Sometimes the best map will not guide you…”
Stay strong and bend, be well
We are in this together together together
We are all pacing the cage–
Not alone not alone
As we walk thin line between birth and death
Now and here
Now and here
Together
Not alone
Hold that thin line dear,
Dear,
Hold it dear.
06 Thursday Sep 2018
Where salt meets sweet,
I sing to the waters.
Where sand holds wave, pelicans slap
great wings,
and solitary duck pops up from below
in a stilled bowl
waiting for winter,
I sing
and Wind joins in,
riffling the surface, ripples reaching
in patterns hypnotic and old.
Sing to the waters,
their reply waits for your greeting among reeds,
rushes, fishes and stone.
26 Sunday Aug 2018
If a push,
somewhere a pull.
Where taken,
pray it has been given.
The Western sense of community..
in itself a paradox?
We’re part–everyone–of centuries of history
cycling, tumbling, molasses-thick onward
with nanosecond “advances.”
No mystery that you, and you, and I
can not seem to catch our breath.
Faster is not forward,
as bigger not better, nor more money success.
Where lies the soul stuff making life
Life?
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 