03 Monday Feb 2014
Posted in death, gratitude, nature, poems, poetry, transition, Uncategorized
≈ Comments Off on the long journey
When the trees reach their greenest,
that is when I will fly,
wings strong and broad for the long journey..
with feathers, iridescent,
reflecting the sky,
tail tasting the coolness of clouds,
eyes bright with the adventure
of following the setting sun, and
my heart singing the song
of every hour,
each tear and bubbling laugh,
that ever was
03 Monday Feb 2014
Every morning, often at dawn, I step outside,
taking bare feet into the empty pasture.
Connecting the circuit between sky and earth,
as surely we are meant to do,
blood finds a clearer rhythm.
And the birds at daybreak
speak eagerly.
I listen.
And pray.
And when worldly cares wet-cement my perspective,
the best offering I can sound
is only
thank you.
02 Sunday Feb 2014
Posted in night, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
While contemplating the potential benefits
of becoming a drunken recluse,
writing the nights into oblivion-
the dishes drip in the rack,
clothes agitate,
bills disappear from the list,
replies send.
Teeth even get flossed.
Pouring my pain into a tumbler
and drinking it down, only
to smash the glass into satisfying bits,
and repeat. The sound of those shards
crack through mind and all, really, I have to do
is run out and buy cheap booze
and glassware I’m not attached to.
02 Sunday Feb 2014
Posted in family, nature, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
When family
is a broken sandcastle,
pick up a stone.
One, tides destroy,
as they must.
The other,
they sculpt.
Hold that stone, and kick
a wide arc of sand, while diving
through salty arctic water,
and build whatever
wherever
whenever you wish,
knowing your creations
protect the royalty
of your own nature.
01 Saturday Feb 2014
Posted in emotion, naked, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
I come before you
Naked
caring not what you think,
whether my frown displeases you,
my tears scare you,
my laughter delights you,
my ecstasy draws you,
or that the tenderness of my heart
is familiar as the surface of the moon,
for we will all be dust in the end,
hopefully becoming,
long before that day,
not just fully alive but
luminous.
01 Saturday Feb 2014
Posted in pain, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
There is a woman here.
She walks.
All day she walks.
Setting out on the same road
every morning
a small bag on her narrow back
jeans
barely a pound covering her bird bones
Forward she moves
carrying herself through
whatever pain that outweighs her pack
by a lifetime.
01 Saturday Feb 2014
Posted in dreams, nature, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
≈ Comments Off on In crossing paths of clouds
What the sheep dreams,
I do not know,
but the mirror of a day jumbles
and obscures
redefines and enhances,
so perhaps their grass becomes
a jungle
where the hoof of those grazing before
presses an old track to follow,
fitting precisely with wet dirt
and exposed roots..
My dreams carry me,
sometimes through an entire day,
and while those presaging me
haven’t carved my way,
they too reside
on this earth I continue to walk
where the images that inform sleep
bring me coyote trotting,
between us only the window,
upon waking
31 Friday Jan 2014
Posted in dread, freedom, poems, poetry, Uncategorized
≈ Comments Off on “Into the mystic…”
What is it to be alone?
To create music with words?
To dance without movement?
To see with eyes closed?
Then comes the dread again,
the belly-sickening rawness,
far beyond the tears that fall
in morning tea,
the core untethering from the illusions
of embodiment.
Gripping.
And I know well,
while it brings me to my knees,
It’s nothing,
clearing the way
to everything…
Boundlessness
31 Friday Jan 2014
Posted in About, Uncategorized, wonder
As I dive, blind, into this new project, I laugh at the perfect imperfection of creating it. Not knowing the language of computers, grateful for the fairly intuitive design of the site, confused (still) about proper effective comma usage, I sit with wine and music with the larger thought- how to convey the solitude of wonder, the continental uplift of my small world. A rugged new mountain range forms as the familiar landscape violently deconstructs. I savor the question of what I aim to do here, why I’ve taken this on, especially now, and what I might offer those sharing the story with me. I may continue to savor that a long while, allowing the natural definition of being rooted in grace to lend its form to me. Forced words are caged butterflies. I prefer to invite the unknown to speak through me. Together, we shall learn and create something beautiful.
30 Thursday Jan 2014
About:
Rooted, embodied, bound, nourished.
In.
Grace, the Infinite, artful movement, the expression of silence.
A gathering of the ephemeral and the limitless.
A medicine of word.
Welcome. Your presence, and any comments you may offer, are a gift.
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In gratitude…
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 