a stormy gateway opened… and a golden one closes..
it can be like that
stepping outside yourself
to usher in what’s waiting.
move into an unknown place
and watch
new hands lay claim
to what you thought was yours.
new hands
03 Sunday May 2015
Worn boots
01 Friday May 2015
Ground zero,
the epicenter,
the war zone-
violence, hatred and calamity
grow equally outward as inward.
Peace workers lace up worn boots
to enter the dust and rubble
and walk inner landscapes to aid survivors.
Skilled visitors to the battleground
staunch blood of the willing
and keep it from spilling on real soil.
Bubo
29 Wednesday Apr 2015
Into the pine
great horned owl flies
and rests, for a time, at twilight.
The same tree
in which you dreamed,
long ago,
owls stood watch-
one guardian facing southwest waters,
another the northeast ridge line..
What you dream is busy
dreaming you.
Inflation
27 Monday Apr 2015
Inflation
steals our eye
with a fancy red balloon
when what it’s really about
is the empty space inside.
Her bones
22 Wednesday Apr 2015
Her bones
fall into mine.
Her fight, her grief,
her bite,
in my arms, my legs, this heart,
are embraced.
She lost footing, at last,
giving up land for the sea.
There I swim,
offering her resting place,
and the tender hold
she has hungered for
all along.
Visitor
12 Sunday Apr 2015
He always shows up uninvited.
And closed doors don’t slow him in the least.
(It’s like that when you haven’t a face,
a body
or a name.)
His approach sinks your belly like a battleship,
and ushers in a near silent gasp-
“Oh no.”
To which,
were anyone else to hear and wonder,
you’d deny ever uttering.
So you reach for a bottle,
and the volume button,
also the telephone, the tv and a book-
none of which can you pay any attention to,
breath having suspended upon his arrival
in singular focus:
that of prey.
And how, possibly, to get away…
Consider the difference
were you to put down the glass,
smile at the kids still out playing frisbee in the yard,
take a seat, look at him
and say,
“Hello, old friend. What have you come to tell me?”
Fall into
12 Sunday Apr 2015
Out into space
a finger,
wrist, forearm, shoulder, neck stretches..
nose leads forward, head tilts
into the roll taking a body
down
away from what sustains into
the craving and desire to possess that thing
that woman that car that status that
tasty morsel that cons you-
that you con yourself-
into believing
will scratch the itch, quell the hunger,
satisfy that blasted longing leaving a belly growling
every morning
a body doesn’t fall into
itSelf.
He drives through night
11 Saturday Apr 2015
He drives through night,
his fear,
navigating roads with poor eyesight
and the anxiety of loss.
She waits, after 30 years, to release her last breath
upon his arrival.
His mind, his hand, reach for her
through lessening miles.
Following a companionship of sorrow-
reunion comes
in rainbows of falling tears.
Movements,
these delicate movements,
carve the limitlessness of human hearts-
darkness can’t even stop that.
The frequency of wind
10 Friday Apr 2015
Rewiring a body,
what with its arms and pinkies and patellae,
in knowing hunt
of the frequency of wind
through forest tops and hillside grass
as all else quiets,
of the partnered rhythm of breaking waves and
the ocean of this heart,
of the resonance in birthing sunlight
crossing far valley hills-
These sounds our bones hum
when the clutter and reversals and dust
have been cleared
from places they never belonged.
Your own touch
08 Wednesday Apr 2015
A swooping line
A twisting span
A rough hollow
An angle, sharp
A smooth soft warmth
A hard jumbled stretch..
With gentle fingers, slow contact
and light gaze-
the textures of your life,
this sculpting of who you are-
each day you explore form of spirit
and shape it with the quality of
your own touch.
Make it kind.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 