27 Sunday Feb 2022
Posted in movement, poems, poetry, transition, water
≈ Comments Off on Where rivers join
Where rivers join
goodbye and hello are fingers entwined,
one feeling like another in swift,
painted tangles and currents.
Waters from here
meet
Waters from there.
Confusion and torrent, swirl and coherence.
Holding on is a goodbye with wings,
watch it fly away~
23 Wednesday Feb 2022
A new movement is afoot,
with steps unknown. There are none.
Enter the River, whose banks
support you now.
Fear may be stripping away, removing the old,
debriding the wounds, a turpentine in the veins.
Let it be.
She beckons. Enter, and be moved.
You will learn–they will teach you.
Call up faith, rebuilding the trust you think
has been lost.
When ready, your own feet will guide and
root you deeply in place where waters and winds
may dance you, earth holding close.
In time, in time,
the Way emerges…
12 Saturday Feb 2022
Somehow it is February and 79 degrees.
What a wonder.
We have entered a new world, mostly of our own making.
Turning back is a fantasy holding some together,
imagining it isn’t happening holding others.
Our earth mama talks with us, through us, always–
she shows more loudly by the year
the honest consequences of our actions.
Birds sing loudly on the other side of the open door,
more kinds than usually heard in chorus.
They bathe bathe bathe and chitter, twinkling songs..
A magical day,
yet strange.
Prayer flies through the open door that we all learn to listen,
listen and praise, find ourselves on our knees ready
for change that serves Life.
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.
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 . . .
30 Sunday Jan 2022
Posted in poems, poetry, the road, transition, wonder
≈ Comments Off on May the way rise up
This new dawn
brings a big swale of soul-saving,
a no-net-now, Lord help me, cliff-dive into
open waters disguised as dry, dry, dryness of
desert mountain.
Plants rattle distant leaves,
winds pitch tiny gravel, clack click click,
down unseen scree slopes.
Scooping myself out of what no longer serves,
serving myself into a richer soup
the likes of which I’ve not yet known,
gulp,
answering the call looks a whole lot like crazy,
stepping into an unfinished painting
feels well beyond reason.
Good thing neither much matter.
Ho ho wah ho ho wah ho,
may the way rise up, rise up to meet,
Wah ho ho Hey.
26 Wednesday Jan 2022
Posted in approaching, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, transition
≈ Comments Off on Lights are richly set
Ever dismantle a life?
Good lord, it’s a lot of work.
The giving away and selling, shuffling,
sorting, fussing and figuring.
Seems easy. Until you do it.
Then this liquid giggle burbles up
as you find you’d never intended to do
this thing that any spare,
and some not so spare,
time is suddenly dedicated to.
Now, leaning towards a future
you’ve not the faintest whiff of a clue about
as it pulls onward,
you stumble spin, slowly, staring out
in all directions,
including the one that’s got you in its tractor beam..
Zzzzzorp.
Dismantle, dismantle,
ditch this, heave that, pawn that,
huddle at this memory’s blast radius,
shake off the hold of that stubborn monkey,
you know–getting on with it,
despite the maniacal grip of safety,
security, and the other obsessions of mind:
Possessing illusions isn’t wealth, I tell ya.
So, here goes, scraping out the last from the burrow,
to leave only pounded earth.
What comes next rests just behind the heavy velvet curtain,
lights are richly set,
the theater hushes in the dark…
22 Saturday Jan 2022
And how death does remind us,
You
are alive.
On this new day he is no more.
Thank you, Thich Nhat Hanh.
19 Wednesday Jan 2022
This is your life.
You will be abandoned again and again.
Until you stop abandoning yourself.
You will die.
Die before you die
and what emerges will hold you.
The way is long
yet it will end quickly.
What bursts through you like a flower singing
to the sun?
What cat are you curled beneath the moon?
Whatever you hold dear will be gone.
So,
how can the shimmer and spark of you
become
fully
in this moment?
17 Monday Jan 2022
Have you ever exploded a potato?
Not poked enough fork holes and made
an unintentional bomb
inside your own oven?
Well, apart from being a mess, it begins
with a sound,
one not unlike an overripe pineapple
dropping onto your roof.
And the ears up, animal attention wanting
to locate what on earth
just happened.
Then, maybe, the run towards the baking tubers,
ready to investigate.
Tip open the door, hesitantly, and there it is,
splattered across every surface in tiny
pieces. And a laugh
when you spot an emptied skin,
shell of the bursted culprit, at the verrrrry back
bottom, well beyond reach.
Swear to god it’s smiling there
resting hollow
and strong.
‘Ahahaaa,’ it says, ‘and that!
is my end.’
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 