05 Friday Jun 2015
A woman enters the restaurant,
angry,
and stands by a table where two men sit.
Words are exchanged,
an expectation was not met.
They invite her to join.
She leaves instead.
One man
leans
towards
the other-
quiet remarks are made.
They pick up their shots
and clink glasses in smiling agreement
before reaching for their fries.
05 Friday Jun 2015
Events arise and show you
you can be made of jello-
in some especially unreasonable flavor like kiwi-
and your mind starts spinning and nothing is working and
everything seems wrong and
you’re busted, no broken, no worse
and
and
on and on and on
until
you stop believing,
look around,
recall that you’re breathing
in a flowering burst of recognition
that you simply
have
more to heal.
05 Friday Jun 2015
You climb the mountain,
slow step after conscious step,
and see before you stones, sharp underfoot,
angular in the strong sun..
Sweat beads and drips and
it’s a recognizable salty pleasure but
water,
water is good.
Sparse trees
bent
by the wind-
forbs wiggle in it,
hair every which way from it.
Steadily on, you walk,
glad for movement.
The peak looms large, but your tongue
and mind taste it.
Finally there- moments from the top-
and breathing deepens, eases, you
sigh.
Reaching the rocky lip,
not caring your laces drag behind,
you hook thumb under strap
of your heavy pack,
welcoming a stretch of rest..
When
you glimpse
what didn’t seem likely- not now,
not here,
not this,
but another peak in a range the map said
was done-
Oh unexplained territory,
unforetold valley and mountain ahead..
Silly map.
No one can ever anticipate
what lies ahead
for only you.
02 Tuesday Jun 2015
The wind whips
and switches.
Through one good ear I hear it glancing
off angled buildings and rooftops,
close and high.
Held in soft stillness of a white bed,
peace.
Waves build below,
fifty steps down to the sea.
I may be in solitude,
but alone?
Never.
28 Thursday May 2015
Adrift,
alone and wandering…
time to tend closely.
Fear rises with groundlessness-
unanswered questions
become the new earth to tread.
Being nowhere
requires patience.
Patience, the bone builder,
the strength bringer,
the knowing one;
She who comes to a whisper
yet stays only with grunts.
Approach softly
and keep your mental seat.
Carving pathways demands
sustained effort.
Laughter rises upon landing
in the open arms of the unknown-
we deceive ourselves if we think
it’s ever any different.
27 Wednesday May 2015
Stop drilling
your eyes
into
me.
Otherwise,
those bits built for wood
will bite
metal.
I’ve depths your dreams don’t even reach,
were it not so
you’d know better than to seek thus.
Fasten yourself, if you want
the sensuous ride-
let go and fall
inward.
There
you
will
find
Me,
the bodiless
embodiment–
She who has no name.
25 Monday May 2015
She leaves behind
a constriction of heart,
with protective, limited beating, and
steps into a centerless center
with rivers vast..
tributaries both drawing and feeding..
Headwaters spring silently
out of mountains, and build depth
hollowing gorges.
Miles and miles
of woven waterways, each
with a Song.
Her heart is no longer an organ but
a Way
with rhythm.
25 Monday May 2015
Olives here taste of rooted earth,
perfume,
undissolved salt…
in minute crystals.
I am as lopsided as any human,
careful with my creations but learning
as often as the sun is rising-
anywhere.
What is golden to my eye may appear blue
to you.
Isn’t that what keeps a day
and a long-stretching night ripe
with intrigue and a mineral calm?
The Aegean waits for my skin
to touch it again.
Fruiting trees observe
with time’s ease and abundance.
My own sorrows are meaningless
in sight of Beauty,
they are salt
added to the Sea.
24 Sunday May 2015
He sits,
this man in his garden,
on an upturned bucket
in the afternoon shade of an olive tree,
smoking a cigarette.
His downward gaze surveys lines
of young plants, his recent work,
and plucks whatever potential-
of lazy thought
of future harvest
of aches, of history-
of each inhalation in his own world
where bees hover
to take him in.
23 Saturday May 2015
rock and water and sky,
stone and salt and wind.
if I wear skulls
they are not for your eyes to fondle-
like the bones I steep
in nutrient-rich broth
i do not forfeit all my secrets.
pushing for the mystery
will bring plastic and cliche,
which your senses will detect
as truth.
in falsity,
protection.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 