Kick the temple bell

16 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in adventure, becoming, break out, change, courage, Expanse, Infinite, learning, listen, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, Run, the road

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Shy at the gate,

toss your head, flip your tail, 

switch ears, twitch nostrils-

a fine tension builds,

keep with it.

Shimmy your skin and whinny, yes,

a whoa-what’s-happening kind of alarm.

Stay with it.

That gate’s got words for you,

and not of a sort your brain’s going to comprehend.

They have teeth, and dirt, and a strange wind to them,

which may be the reason for the fleeting,

repeating

blood chills, maybe.

Rushing to run misses the opportunity.

Kick the temple bell with an eager hoof if you have to

but know

this place between,

at the gate before god knows what and you,

holds the field of promise.

Hang in, possibility calls you far,

far from the familiar.

Someones of Somethingdom

07 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, break out, courage, Creating, Expanse, Infinite, learning, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, release, wonder, work

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Those pesky brains,

the ones making a someone of a something-

who’s been serving them the kool-aid?

Settle them down before we cart them off

wearing special white outfits complete with ties

they can not undo.

We’ve categorized, cauterized, organized, familiarized 

until the ize of the horizon is known.

Imagining may be cute when your feet are small

but now we must grow up-

taller, smarter, firmer in stance and action;

Up-standing people further things, uphold things-

We are the Someones of Somethingdom.

Reality has a timeline, afterall.

And, then, while we adhere and cohere 

we’ll do something silly like have a child

who will see all we won’t

and giggle until she’s sideways

leaving at least one of us to wonder

just what exactly brings that spark to her eyes

and rolling thunder to her tiny, mirthful belly…

(Go ahead, It says- research that.)

Dust in my shoes

07 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in adventure, dark, light, movement, poems, poetry, the road

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I’ve dust in my shoes

puffing around my ankles step after step,

matting cotton laces thick and stiff.

Time to dump it out.

But, have you ever noticed 

how old sneakers and dust have a thing for each other?

I’ve dust in my shoes.

Turns out, by moonlight it’s silver,

by day sun makes it gold.

Conniving dark nearly got me thinking

there is no magic in such finery.

Then again, these kicks may be saying,

we’ve feet in our dust-

just what are we to do?

The new year

01 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, courage, Creating, dark, devotion, Expanse, learning, light, mystery, poems, poetry, the road, transition, wonder, work

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The new year could be a prism,

a prison,

an ache and an embrace.

We just never know,

until at once a soft wind settles and we do.

Offer a kindly nod to the dark,

and an opening of arms to the light-

both will accompany us the whole way;

it is our work to acknowledge and learn from 

the full spectrum every day.

May we remember to create Beauty 

and move skillfully as we can

with the cinnamon dance of Mystery..

And, please, mind the tenderness of little toes.

Stitching time

01 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by in change, learning, loving, movement, poems, poetry, release

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Stitching time with you

brought me to the end of a thread,

one unkowingly finite.

Pushing my hand through air toward

your warm forehead, lightly damp

beneath a short cascade of brown hair,

mixed salt sour scent, barely perceptible 

and more familiar than any other’s,

in a last inhale holding no more frustration

with the snap of that thread

and a long, tangled, eventually satisfying,

wordless goodbye.

Warm blood and yellow shirt

26 Monday Dec 2016

Posted by in movement, poems, poetry, presence, work

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He felt it

upon walking through the door.

He met the spirit of the place 

and, recognizing not his hunger but

the food that quelled it,

eyes searched piles and corners,

while feet took him further inside

than the visit required.

Touching countertop, dishing questions,

noticing, lingering, sensing, offering,

eventually the task on the roof-

the reason for the call-

pulled him back outside to search there, too,

for holes letting in winter rain.

A ladder leans against an eave

though his warm blood and yellow shirt

departed down cold canyon road an hour ago.

Underearth

20 Tuesday Dec 2016

Posted by in abundance, break out, dark, family, Infinite, joy, learning, listen, movement, mundane, nature, poems, poetry, vision, weaving

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Roots set in frosty, frosty ground

hugged by grit and worm and mole,

the slowlystretchinggrowing silence of

tips touching stonewetsoft.

Ears needn’t hear, nor eyes see-

vitality cups darkness 

and nutrients find pathways

up up up

to light of day, and sharp starry sky. 

The underearth knows quiet

and no-hurry, no-worry.

Sit awhile atop roots and wonder

just wherehowwho far

your own earth arms wriggle.

Not exactly

17 Saturday Dec 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, change, Deliverance, discomfort, freedom, gratitude, honoring, joy, learning, listen, Loss, mystery, pain, poems, poetry, receiving, release, wonder, work

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It wasn’t through torn paper

blackened shoelace

or scuffed wall 

that I found You.

It wasn’t the constant push

circulating fear

or I-must-do-betters..

not even the inch between 

the sidewalk and me

plus a bruised knee.

Not exactly.

Add the non-starts,

regimented dreams,

what’s-wrong-with-me’s,

attempts to fit when fitting fed starvation,

and the broken heart- birthday after birthday-

with one shattering

nearly beyond recovery

that, finally,

I found You.

The joke being

that I’ve carried You in me

since before the first sunrise.

Except now,

when I say hello

I can hear You answer.

Black

09 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by in becoming, break out, change, courage, Creating, dark, Healing, listen, mystery, pain, poems, poetry, strength, the road, transition

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Black

is every color

crammed

in space too tight for light.

Our sickness

produces severe symptoms;

Projecting our own shadows on others

will keep us from finding our way through.

With the box now open,

the last of its contents spilled

into collective view,

comes the greatest need yet

for- yes- willingness and

a strong stomach (as it writhes),

but also

a softening of our individual, concreted ways and

an enlivening of curiosity and connection.

Where we go from here

is up

to all of us.