Bending over to pick up pennies
lost pocketfuls of change,
and left the pavement littered with leftovers.
No longer affording such loss,
I remain upright and accept only dollars.
Upright
14 Saturday May 2016
Category Archives: the road
Born thus far
14 Saturday May 2016
An open chair awaits you.
Clearing it of a tumbling-height stack
of NOs
took some doing.
Approximately four decades worth.
And now that the rich, carved wood and velvet
of that high-backed chair holds nothing of mine,
there’s space for you at the table.
Admittedly, food hasn’t been cooked…
Uhm tea, however,
I’m ready to commit to.
Candle, flame and flowers adorn
ridged lengths of milled tree
where our cups may sit.
Breath hasn’t yet dropped to belly-
waiting on your arrival out here in the valley
has caught it between Yes and Oh shit.
A place here, with me,
at a royal oak table welcoming us both
is the stretch of generosity and strength
born thus far.
One day, she runs.
07 Saturday May 2016
In the dark unfolding familiar
and friendless place
where place began,
a necessary and
deceptive
seed was planted.
Nourishing form, forgetting spirit,
growing grew and suckers spread.
A viral overload threatened.
Silently
soil
fed
resistance.
Until…
One day,
she runs.
From sick enclosure out into night,
thinly covered,
taking nothing, no shoes,
she bolts in a snap of a now! beyond
hallways, doors, gates,
with pounding heart, searchlight eyes, flying hair,
bare feet slapping pavement,
escaping by back ways known
intimately as the corners of her old room.
Rushing behind houses, through hedges,
ducking limbs, all chance of observance
and grabbing dominion.
Outside the limits,
with no objects to keep her,
by her own deliverance
she finds
her true way Home.
Rest a while
24 Sunday Apr 2016
So the hot water doesn’t work,
the man divorced your ass,
the chickens became coyote snacks,
black widows took up residence along beside you,
flying ants infest the house,
your regular bleeding has voted for hyper-regular status..
what, what to do?
Yell, cry, tear out your hair,
drown in movies and wine,
sleep until it ends,
throw things, set others ablaze,
stomp around and,
and,
and
…
What else?
The toaster still toasts, after all,
and the dentist DID say your teeth are healthy and great,
the walk into the hills has redeemed you
before,
many many times before,
and why tear out perfectly good hair,
especially when it’s yours,
and yes, a rest in that bed sounds perfect,
because
you are tired, child, bone-deep tired.
And beyond the chaos and conundrums,
hallelujah resonates in your heart
with each
remaining
beat.
Hallelujah beats,
here in the mess,
hallelujah beats with you…
I bow
21 Thursday Apr 2016
Molting is awkward.
Ugly.
And completely amazing.
When stumbling in awkwardness, I am being asked to understand.
I bow to the learning.
When hiding from my own ugliness, I am being called to love what has been unacceptable.
I bow to Beauty by deepening her definition.
As feathers drop, the wind takes them.
In this lightness,
change.
In this change,
potency.
So it begins
03 Sunday Apr 2016
So it begins
with
but They but They
and the story pretzels and snarls
morphs into a thorny thicket
of
Yes but.
So it begins.
Reaching in with pruners and magnifying glass,
a madness of
I will get clear!
muscles work, tire,
eyes pierce, squint, wrinkle-
strength and a certain Sight grow.
One silent morning arrives
with a way through,
not simply a way through,
a path clear- as intended-
and They
are long gone.
Suddenly, dust still in suspension,
the same pain jolts its head through packed earth
and there’s no
But They
anymore.
Only you.
And so it begins…
At times
03 Sunday Apr 2016
At times, things are like
fumble
fumble
duck
slip
roll
bump
skid
drop
diiiiiive
ta-dah!
The grain mill
27 Sunday Mar 2016
Stretches
(or pockets,
or loop-de-loops)
of time
(meaningless time)
in transition
with sensations of being ground
in the grain mill,
where would we be without them?
In a blistering wind
anger rises and hands us the energy
to do away
with a trail of uselessness hitching
to our backsides.
(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)
Without halting in mad winds
who jostle our brains and
send hairs flying
we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds
of shit
attached to our spines
which
we can now let go of.
Hallelujah for stopping
to strike the match of compassionate flame
and throwing it on
a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.
On the front line
14 Monday Mar 2016
Utterly afraid
to look foolish,
we look foolishly at the world
expecting a straight face and the right shoes
to buy us into the awards ceremony.
On the front line of sorrow and pain
a mouse would scurry,
a bear would sit
scratching its bum
on the perfect tree.
Heavy rain
11 Friday Mar 2016
Heavy rain keeps falling,
and the creek keeps rising, singing
the canyon to sleep and the flowers awake.
Now, little wildflowers, now.
In the disturbance of sliding mud and uprooting trees,
every sweet squall and turbid cycle
does call us
to raise our heads
and offer a soft smile
as we are washed clean.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 