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
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.
Wake up!
09 Monday May 2016
the first memory,
a fear of ghosts,
might choke you in your sleep.
wake up.
one step forward with a little foot
and another,
and another with your foot, not so small-
recall your body
to pierce darkness inhabited
by the terrifying,
and purposely forgotten.
wake up!
repossess what’s yours, kid.
throw your little arms out into night’s gullet,
rid the rotting presence rising
from beyond the grave.
we’ll approach together.
your journey neither begins
nor ends
trembling in a spindle bed
below third floor timbers,
its vacancy above met
by broad staircase
channeling
down
what no one else will face.
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.
Love’s no
03 Tuesday May 2016
Love’s no merry-go-round,
no sign up for the day and walk away thing,
no remembrance on Tuesday and a forgetting the other 6;
Love’s no yes-dear, whatever you say dear.
Love’s a wild one
whose hair, let alone heart will not
be tamed.
Because she expects the best of you, the most of you,
the oh you don’t feel like it -ha!- that’s funny of you.
Drag yourself to the ledge and peer over.
The view is not for the faint of heart.
Wishing yourself there is a waste of the work
your cells do without stop.
Come forward, rise up,
no other task is worthy of you.
A whole lot more of forever
02 Monday May 2016
Sometimes I must contain rivers
greater than my banks
and
I wonder,
just what it would be like to be you.
Limbs moving so,
thought dangling here and here,
and a curl,
tongue licking there
and eye gazing upon scenes
I could never see exactly
the same way.
Within these banks I capture moon
lighting the way
but in the flood
life flows too fast
and grand
for understanding to catch me.
Yet it does,
eventually,
it always does.
Recount to me what it’s like being you
and perhaps
both our banks will expand to hold
a whole lot more of forever.
Sacrifice the god of nice
29 Friday Apr 2016
A watermelon, round.
A sword,
heavy-hilted, ornate, decisive.
Raise the blade,
two-handed,
and drop sharp steel through rind,
flesh,
rind;
Sacrifice the god of nice.
Free her from the bondage
of acceptable mediocrity.
Spill seed,
honor sweet juice.
Initiate of destruction-
break open the tidy container
or
she will rot,
denied of her original gift.
This inborn generosity
invites feast.
Fill your belly.
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.
Call me Pele
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
Call me Pele.
All forms burn and
none stands outside creation.
Shake your definitions loose-
this is generosity.
The fires sustaining me,
I sustain.
Unbroken circle-
food, faethm, corage,
the Wild.
Do not question
if you desire
better.
For, certainly,
better
desires you.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 