Egg rolls and IPA

28 Wednesday Aug 2024

Posted by in Earth, gratitude, grief, laughter, poems, poetry

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Egg rolls and IPA,

Agatha Christie, pop R&B and kids parading

in and out.

A strange and satisfying blend.

From a walk to the library to pick up,

among other things,

a copy of Winnie-the-Pooh

(multiple readings required) after news harsh enough

to melt one’s ears or harden one’s heart,

and stress enough to keep a person in bed,

I tip back my head to breathe in towering trees

and warm evening light.

It’s a funny world,

a funny, funny world we all share.

Awkwardly, magically,

and with plenty of bedevilment.

Keep laughter ever ready

in your blessed little back pocket.

It’ll never short-change you.

The riotous wind

12 Monday Aug 2024

Posted by in freedom, friends, growing, Healing, heart, honoring, human, learning, Love, movement, naked, Opening, poems, poetry, prayer

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Driving along

and a sudden elevator drop in my chest.

Riding that familiar riversong of sadness a moment,

I understand–ah–

my old, precious friend

is holding a conversation I’ve heard countless times.

Now I can recognize her disguise.

Funny mask, dear one,

but a confusion belies those heavy, tearful eyes.

Stress, strain, the much too muchness of things

brings you here.

Rest, love.

Hide in your cubby hole and come out

whenever you would like to sniff

the riotous wind again.

Suspenders, belt and cane

05 Monday Aug 2024

Posted by in generations, movement, poems, poetry, walking

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He walks through, slow, steady,

racing stripes down the arms of his cotton shirt,

stick angled ahead of him and taking his weight,

his grandson leading in front.

Not every day suspenders and belt combine–

gotta love the full barrel belly and ambling body

rich with story.

Onward, onward to the next adventure..

From the unseen low-turned speakers,

music swirls in his wake.

The tumult is our own

10 Wednesday Jul 2024

Posted by in generations, global, human, poems, poetry, welcoming, work

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The tumult is our own.

It happens out there but in here the real storms play out.

We take action, response comes, repeat.

Sometimes a looooong stretch of waiting shows

what changeable beasts we are;

How to set down outcome

and reside in the lively space between this and that…

Sturdy land goes liquid, tables collapse, chair tips over,

the cat catapults herself to the top of now crooked refrigerator.

Yes, the happenings.

But, oh, the tumult.

Work with the shiftless, restless, beautiful

beast.

The rest takes care of itself.

Heaven & hell

29 Saturday Jun 2024

Posted by in Body, Elements, poems, poetry

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I’ve been contemplating heaven and hell,

while chewing an apple slice,

staring at where

the sweet dry hills meet sky.

I think it’s kind of like that.

They come together, an uneven between,

the elements can be explored, felt, seen,

drawn, smelled, poked:

they’re in sacred relationship.

And we have to learn, each within ourselves,

our relationship to them.

Both teach. Both burn us to essence,

if we let them.

We can enter one and take the other

right along with.

Wherever you stand, sustenance can be found.

Where’s your heaven to your hell?

Are you the same within each?

Marbles

27 Thursday Jun 2024

Posted by in flight, mystery, poems, poetry

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I have decided I may be losing my marbles.

But that’s not really the problem,

finding the hole they seem to be tumbling from is.

Were I able to locate that,

at least then, when I’m light enough to fly,

I’d know where the wind is whistling through.

Stretched

27 Thursday Jun 2024

Posted by in Opening, poems, poetry, still

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Stretched thin by uncertainty,

by loss,

now an inseparable blend:

A gossamer veil.

Another world, active as this one,

signals faintly,

in blurred sound, through garbled sight,

from the other side.

I sit on dead calm sea

in my little light boat, just me.

No waft of wind, or lapping tide..

I squirm inside knowing nothing

can be done.

Sitting here while the surrounding world

holds its breath

I look about at the shorelessness

wondering,

what could possibly be next?

For now, I sit

reminding my lungs to expand,

to release,

to expand,

to release…

other worlds can’t communicate

without a hollow

for silence.

Twisted linen

20 Monday May 2024

Posted by in generations, movement, mystery, offering, pain, poems, poetry, the road, weaving

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Twisted linen in the closet:

rumpled skirt, wrinkled vest..

Who would imagine shirts

could dent.

Comical to even consider remedying that.

Seems I can not stay put.

A magnet polarized from place

when place is done.

Not that I want to be washed from the creekbed.

I’ve bolted, leapt, flown, jumped and been

catapulted;

I’m praying for a gentler crossing

this go round.

The hanging lines held in linen

are a telling road map

of more to come.

Cafe

17 Friday May 2024

Posted by in abundance, beauty, community, poems, poetry, welcoming

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She barks at him

bitterly

across two tables and a faux fire

(real flame, no wood),

he nods,

yuh, yuh,

nose angled toward his paper.

They’re married,

the cafe their living room.

Meanwhile, Nina Simone

and a squealing cappuccino machine.

A man, clearly successful,

speaks at air,

bluetooth lodged in both ears.

Opposite,

women burble of this and this,

while another couple, thick grey locks

lidded by heavy cowboy hats,

laughs together.

At a single,

a young one,

pale and half asleep, sits alone,

the lower half of her face parked in her palm.

Two dogs, wide eyed,

wait.

Spanish wafts over from the counter.

With warm cup held in both hands,

I drink it all in.

Kindleless fire

15 Friday Mar 2024

Posted by in confusion, Fire, heart, poems, poetry

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You lose your beauty

and the sky turns pink.

It’s not yours to lose.

What twists us in knots

keeps us,

an unholy marriage,

from the divinity shining

within our own eyes.

Who says what is beautiful,

he, she or he?

Meaningless judgments aimed

at raising one, at undermining another.

Recall the kindleless fire

and your heart will know none

but love threading song.