02 Saturday Aug 2025
Wrestling with the ancestors,
shaking their tree–
Wake up, wake up! You have errors
you must correct.
Generations long damage still revealing itself,
this is not solely on the living.
Clear the way, remove the pall,
obstacles you unwittingly erected,
not the monuments you believed them to be.
Pick up a sledgehammer–
face your mistakes,
smash their marble facades,
crack the foundation,
watch them crumble and let wind blow them away.
Your legacy awaits.
Life needs to bloom.
Get on it!
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.
26 Saturday Aug 2023
Fuchsia smurf hat
and a cashmere scarf,
feet cupped in sheepskin..
it’s August
and far from cold.
Sometimes you hold yourself
in whatever way you can.
The yellow jackets are on full attack,
two stings slowly healing.
Jay carried away a green fig,
no time to pause for sweetness.
The boundaries have become sloshy,
I’m waiting for true definition.
The wait may have lost its own edges.
12 Saturday Mar 2022
A place I have become,
with no knowing where home is.
I carry home with me and in her, them, him I reside.
Words only bring us to the doorway,
imagination opens the door.
In this extended departure
the landscape broadens, roads disappear,
names change, expectation reveals its hollowness,
and desert mountain awaits.
A place I have become, moving upon this earth
without long plan, without people on the receiving end,
with nothing of permanence.
Laughter will replace fears and doubts soon enough.
For now, chasing details fills the days.
This place I become will carry me to the grave,
wherever and whenever that shall be.
In the meantime, feeding the soil, sitting with what is,
allowing for what will be, dropping off
assumptions,
and listening softening listening softening. . .
I want to know this place deeply and dearly
before I go.
28 Monday Feb 2022
God, how we fight, fight
to get our needs met.
Out of the dissonance of yesterday
today arrives, new and in flux.
Sitting with turmoil after a verbal attack,
I wonder.
Wonder at our repetitions of what has befallen us,
of the disrespect and dismissal,
bullying and belittling;
What came at me with heavy disorganization
and aggression, brought a new face
to an old pattern. What came at me at home
as a child
came at me again in my home
as an adult.
Only now, now! I could say,
there is no fight here,
slow down and hear what I am saying.
Having one’s boundaries blatantly ignored
and crossed may be
a desperate ploy for power
but I wonder,
might not power be the question at all?
03 Thursday Feb 2022
Ever fallen into the space you’ve created?
Like, sold the furniture, given away the dehumidifier,
cast off an extra dish, sock, bathroom scrub,
old toothbrush donated to the cause of grout?
(That shit loves growing a dark beard no matter
the effort. Water welcomes tiny critters.)
Well,
I have too.
The marvelous twisting ways of COVID
includes–demands?–tickles forth
sudden reversals.
That just sounds silly.
COVID giggles at removing the floor beneath your feet.
All in a day’s work for wee virus folk.
Sooo, here I am, furnitureless, floorless, planless,
hmm…less, less, less
is good.
And laughable.
In giant open space I sit,
wondering . . .
15 Thursday Jul 2021
All the unacceptable parts of you
you catapulted into the junk drawer as a child
the moment someone you loved
clearly didn’t approve,
they don’t belong there.
Try singing them back out of the dark.
Back into you.
The best sauces dance on the tongue with
their rightful bloom of spice and vigor.
11 Wednesday Nov 2020
What if you woke up each day pissed off.
Pissed off that you’re still here, that things are the way they are,
feeling impotent to change any of it,
that, somehow, crucial basic needs have not been accounted for
in the constellation of whoever is responsible.
What an enduring and repetitive hell.
And instead of beating yourself for–yet another–failing
you settle in
to an endless buzz of unspoken confusion
to wonder,
where could such constant pain come from?
And what, truly, is the soil to tree relationship
between rage and gratitude?
Don’t kid yourself,
those roots do tangle together
and grow in ways
so large and unarticulated you haven’t yet
begun
to trust the imagination entrusted to you
to welcome the discomfort of the discovery
Life is asking.
09 Monday Nov 2020
This is not stick feathers in your hair and prance round
the earth as if you are one. You
couldn’t not be if you tried. You
can, however, think it, feel it, behave it as if
it were so. You aren’t here
to earn it. To remember it, Yes,
and to work it through.
Mass microbes work upon you–feathers
are the cartoon version (blessed though they be).
If no brook bubbles beside you, neighbors’
televisions blare craftless tales, and your mother
is dead, Remembrance,
work though it must and will take,
is what these days reaching toward your own death
are for..
Slow into morrow, into marrow..
not only could you lose everything–
you will.
With that might your cellular awakening bring glimpse
before the end
Gold of what you are made.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 