The limitations of our fathers,
they are not ours to live by. See
and be done.
Do
and live beyond.
The next generations are here to end
that which came before.
30 Saturday Dec 2023
The limitations of our fathers,
they are not ours to live by. See
and be done.
Do
and live beyond.
The next generations are here to end
that which came before.
30 Saturday Dec 2023
They rise to the occasion,
the ones you called
to a come-to-Jesus–(minus the Jesus)–and,
truly,
they break bread and drink wine.
With you.
For the first time.
Mountains of stone become sand.
Standing centuries diminish to an hour:
Movement.
You initiated it and
rise, they do;
an occasion
holding both
life
and death
because, really, how damned much time
do we have?
Really.
Grapes, and the blessing,
the bleeding,
of injury and heart,
must not be
wasted.
Moments of chance,
swim up
to our lightly closed fists.
Let the bright, fluid young creatures in.
This may be the last.
And nothing like living waters
ushers in a new year.
Upwelling.
18 Saturday Nov 2023
We save each other’s lives
a little
every day.
Follow a pointing finger,
find the child.
Hear a cry never
bellowed,
resolve the ache.
Listen through hands,
to a quaking,
a breaking
of a heart yet again,
and turnings of ages will echo
through bone.
These are callings
answered by few.
Let the unmoved move
with slightest
kindest
deepening
touch,
reach stars buried
and waiting
for a return to dark sky.
We save each other’s lives
a little
every day.
In this is more
than enough.
26 Saturday Aug 2023
Fuchsia smurf hat
and a cashmere scarf,
feet cupped in sheepskin..
it’s August
and far from cold.
Sometimes you hold yourself
in whatever way you can.
The yellow jackets are on full attack,
two stings slowly healing.
Jay carried away a green fig,
no time to pause for sweetness.
The boundaries have become sloshy,
I’m waiting for true definition.
The wait may have lost its own edges.
25 Friday Aug 2023
I will dance the confusion,
throw hands into smoke-laden air,
wreak the blockades of form imposed.
Dance the rage,
the rejection,
the finding when seeking’s not done.
Dance the diagnoses, the assumptions,
the warped expectations.
Dance the exploding starburst of my own heart.
What they hear
is not me.
What they see serves
their interests.
The shape of me,
the rhythms, my name–
I will dance it with fingers splayed,
feet lifting
off the ground.
I will throw down my broken song,
its weight and timing and edge.
This is my dance,
the only one I will ever get–
and no other can claim it
but me.
16 Wednesday Aug 2023
Mimosa blossoms are falling,
pink stars upon the ground.
A greatest turning point has arrived,
no fighting it.
But Beauty tumbles on; Steller’s jay pecks
into the plump dense seed of a hazelnut
still wrapped in its ruffly green,
his strong feet holding it against a branch.
I hear him, though now he’s standing
on the arm of a towering black oak.
A man living on the streets sings
while he walks the sidewalk along the fence.
Triple digits again today, most will be hiding
indoors
as long as air conditioning holds out.
Nothing’s the same.
That’s alright,
Same was a comfortable illusion anyway.
11 Friday Aug 2023
Through repeated actions taken
by others you learned
you’re expendable.
Expendable.
.
Stay there.
Hold it,
wait,
hold yourself dear.
Dear.
And open the door to that being–
swing it wide…
Hello, Expendable.
How are you this day?
And,
who are you really?
Really.
07 Monday Aug 2023
I gave up pretty for a greater feast,
potato chips and jellybeans turned in.
Wrinkles declare descents into primal deserts,
splotches and patches and spots imprints
of the boot crush of heartbreak,
greys the stories of the non-forgotten.
Pretty hasn’t much to offer
and with it comes trails of trouble,
trials of the kind modern fairy tales
simply can’t grok.
23 Sunday Jul 2023
I lay my head in the spanning palm of her leaf,
a tall gracious rising of greenness
from out of the pond’s living muck.
My head, without thought, becomes that of a newborn
held aloft in unexpected and vibrant tenderness.
On bended knee, bowed in thanks,
words disappear, a ribbon of silver.
In a clear and generous light
she offers her presence to anyone slow enough
to accept the invitation.
18 Tuesday Jul 2023
Beneath my bones, a broad rock softens,
curly in green,
brown edged summer moss
shaded and alive,
alive and moving slowly across millennia.
Sitting and looking out, deer gazing back,
sitting and sensing,
sitting, staring.
Shifting light. Hugging heat.
The massive stone suddenly nudges:
Be clear,
I have been cleaved,
nearly in two.
A ravine in me deepens,
leaves filling, critters finding home
in darkness.
Up wells Spirit–
split rock, cleaved heart–
in a heart broken life grows,
surfaces crack, creation revealing itself
in breakage.
A community of beings inhabits
what was once a terroir of the unbroken.
Insight flashes, quickening my blood
along with the ants.
I’m swarmed.
What rose from below erupted in them too.
Go, sit still
in the fertility of brokenness.