t h e_p o e t r y

 
 
September 11, 2017

nowhere

What is a place?
A home?
Maybe there is meant to be
more adventure
and surprise.
Open space
We were nomads once.
Cherishing seasons
from place to place
At home in every place.
And what of this comfort in staying?
Is it that we stopped trusting our Mother to provide for us
vastly
continuous?
Is it that we stopped trusting
each other?
Breaking the cycle of generosity
of generations
not altering the balance
because we
became afraid?
I question whether or not
I crave this comfort
too fervently.
To the extent that
it undermines
my sense of possibility.
Perhaps ...

September 11, 2017

natural capital

Witnessing
the exposed bodies
of kindred ones
Life snapped
and cut out
left to rot
in the quiet intimacy
of their own home.
Demolished and strewn.
Collateral damage
vibrating out
in all four directions
Unnatural acts
these crimes against nature.
A path once walked
as if through a temple
communion deep
feet over roots
eyes up in branches
down in the loam.
Now
here
I should be wearing
a funeral shroud
bearing witness
to the decaying helpless ones.
Strong enough to withstand
a thousand lashings
from the winter wind
But who can stop
the hungry metal teeth?
Deny them ...

September 9, 2017

Perichor

First
September rain.
Perichor of
a sundrenched
threadbare summer.
Golden
Herbaceous
Energized dirt.
Moving into
air.
Still holding.
Holding.
The scent of
a dying season.
And now
the strained muscles
of the forest
are easing.
Mother’s promise
to you
is kept.
Be revived.
Be revived.

March 27, 2017

inside of sound

It was a wind chime
in Chinatown
that first pulled me in
to the Universe.
A singularity
absorbing my imagination
completely.
A desire innervated
to reside deeply
infinitely
inside of
its sound.
Dissolving
into the desultory rhythm
of its paper-light
extensions
fanned and furled
by the invisible
flirtatious
breath of Life.
All this sound
my body felt
with ears
at energy centers.
Metaphysical cochleas.
Spirals of perfect
unfolding.
Without understanding,
understanding.
I am
connected.

March 27, 2017

red lipstick

I woke up with…

starlight in my blood
that moved me to
move myself
get outside
be outside
be WITH myself.
The stars.
“Hello, my friend!”
I said to the part of me
running before the
sun came up
stomping out cracks
in the ice of
of her stagnant
winter-weary heart
proving that she was alive
even in the dark.
The water was all there
hiding underneath.
And then she crossed the finish line
home to warmth
and wisdom.
To stetching with
all the spirit dolls
catching her drift.
And then I saw the light
of a sister I love

March 27, 2017

Alien

It makes my head spin
When I feel it
Pulls me into
a vortex
of contemplation
Alien.
I feel alien here.
And it cannot be
Only me
That reaches my hands out
As far into space
As I possibly can.
Unable to accept
This place
Is my only home.
Such a lonely home.
That makes
Aliens out of
Us.
The lovers.
The dreamers.
The peacemakers.
The light-bearers.
Aliens.
Maybe it’s just
One of those days.
6 am this morning
Feels like days ago.
So many things.
And more things.
And also that other thing
Happened.
All of it
Earthly.

March 27, 2017

paper trust

Paper trust.
It was just between us.
Pouring the inside out
without an
evaluator.
Without the pressure of
righteousness.
It was neutral territory.
It could always handle
my weight.
Completely welcoming.
A bright white space
that seemed to sing,
‘Tell me anything.’
She was a friend to me,
Paper.
Open, full of possibility
and witnessing
my breadth.
She was a friend to me.

December 10, 2016

hungry fire

I kneel before
a hungry fire.
Mouth gaping
orange-black teeth gleaming.
It must be
fed and fed
and fed again
Fire keeper.
Kept by fire
In return.
A reciprocal relationship.
Moving in
As near as I can.
Just enough warmth
To encourage the loosening
of my muscles.
Body sinking.
A full breath drawn
into newly-released lungs.
Welcoming
a burst of heat
pushing into
the cells of my
cold, red face.
The windows behind me
Are so large
and daunting.
Single paned
and lightly armored
against this rare visitor,
the Arctic air.
I’m afraid
the cold has
crept in through ...

October 30, 2016

the leaving

The leaves.
The leaving.
The way we feel
aspects of ourselves
used up
dropping off.
Effort to ease.
Change is what
we fear
and yet pine for
above all.
The end of resistance.
Or thoughts that
cycle back
repeating errors
in the code.
The leaves.
The leaving.
They have it right.
Over and done with.

October 30, 2016

Dream Weeds

Inching through
the underbrush,
the overgrowth of
untended dreams
progressively transformed
into weeds that choke
relentlessly
the surrounding structures.
I cannot sleep
because of these muses
that moved me
so many years ago.
Viruses of inspiration
flaring up,
itchy and feverish.
Their message clear
unhinging me
from my latency.
“Find your way to more.
More of all this
beauty that you love.
Befriend the weeds,
take hold of them
cord-like, strong as ropes
guiding you
through the blindness
of your overwhelm and melancholy
toward your forgotten
treasures.”

June 21, 2016

true moon

There is a certain
swollen feeling
that arises
when you want to see
moon light
the way it look
the way it feels
in truth
when dull
orange
street lamps
are all turned off
and out of sight
not haunting
your peripheral vision.
You drive up
the mountain road
and move beyond
the counterfeit
watching as
Mother Moon
reveals herself
slowly
through the
feminine sillouhette
of night-black evergreens
singing her ancient
swooning lullaby
of pure
clean
light.
Standing
in this illumination
you can feel
your body
full of perforations
full of space
as she permeates you
everywhere.
There is a certain
swollen feeling

June 1, 2016

gravity fed

A river
often incites
a powerful urge
to look upon it.
There is…
Flow.
Impossible to
follow after.
Only a part
can be observed
and then
let go of.
It offers
generous answers
without the necessity
of a question.
As questions so often
bear the limits
of the Asker.
Our gravity fed
lives
continuously
struggling
in the current
in the moment
by moment.
by moment.
Our featherweight
and spacious Souls
on tiptoes
glide along
the surface tension.
Only a part
can be observed
and then
let go of.

April 26, 2016

a new word for God

I am.
Searching for
a new word for
God.
One that fits this
shifted conception
That tells a story
of grace
and
magic
WAY bigger than
our ‘good’ behavior
or ‘right’ ideas
or privileged positions
could conjur.
Expanding
to the farthest reaches.
As big as the Universe
can hold.
Yet present
in the smallest details
of a butterfly wing.
One that holds space
for The Mystery
which is still
so totally
intact
while honoring
the many ways
we are tirelessly working
to unravel it.
The inclusion of
Science (!)
as a pathway
with signposts
leading to
More ...

April 4, 2016

forced

I look out at the wind

moving on two trees.

Separated.

Fifty yards and

a road between.

They are dancing

the same

assailable dance.

Force acting

upon them.

Movement unstoppable.

And this same wind

is moving

on Us.

We, gathered

like tall grasses

in a field

of awe.

Undulating.

Existing.

In motion.

Forces acting

upon us.

Inwards and outwards.

We, bending.

We, breaking.

We, matter.

Feeling it

good

or bad.

The Sensitive Ones

running for cover

but finding only

temporary shelters.

And the Hard Ones

bracing

swallowing down

biting hard.

No need to apologize

for your

Self.

No explanation necessary.

You’ve been

forced.

Time and again.

You felt what you felt

or you numbed out

what you couldn’t bear

to feel.

Either way

we walk a tightrope

between fragility

and triumph.

Answerless questions

bellowing

and moaning

out from us

as we live

deep

in the belly

of the best.

We, bracing

We, softening.

We, matter.

Constantly affected.

Force acting

upon us.

Movement

unstoppable.

April 4, 2016

bloomer

No,
I’m not a late bloomer.
It’s just that
this life
and the
chaotic Universe
I landed inside
struck me
as being so mysterious
so intricate
and complex,
that I couldn’t
(in good faith)
lock in
to anything
in particular.
Still haven’t decided
on my ‘major’.
Comforted by minor
keys.
A melancholy
threadbare
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December 3, 2015

the space between heartbeats

In the small

interlude

between your heartbeats

systole

diastole.

Trust. Choose to trust.

(Somehow it started without you and continues on faithfully, beautifully.)

When it is cold

and the buds are a

distant promise

hiding.

Trust. Choose to trust.

(You are moving full circle, so slow you can’t see.)

When Mother Eagle

lovingly

and brutally

drops you from the nest.

Trust. Choose to trust.

(And be sure to open up your wings. They will work…eventually.)

When your dreams are

substantial

and expansive

but the path toward them feels

narrow

and contracted

Trust. Choose to trust.

(Let yourself be free from illusion and delusion. Be purified through difficulty. This is how you become the person that can fullfill your dreams.)

When your heart is

vibrantly open and vulnerable

in the ...

November 15, 2015

emerge from the whirlwind

Move gently
into self-awareness,
emerge from the whirlwind
of the endless thoughts
sensations
and affectations
of all of this inexplicable…
existence.
It’s time to
validate your longings
and acknowledge,
however pressed down
and compacted,
they are there
to guide you
to your essence.
Realize.
Recognize.
Only a small part of this cacophony
in your precious mind
is you.
Truly you.
Not all those voices
are telling
YOU.
The truth.
So find a way
to hear them clearly,
the ugly
and the unreal,
and unfasten yourself
from the tethers
that make you
their captive animal.
Release yourself
from any thoughts
or ...

September 27, 2015

remember the animal

I felt it necessary
to lower my body
onto all fours first.
Remember the animal.
And then with my cheek
Pressed to the cold
fecund earth
become a witness
of the Autumn
that lives tenaciously
underfoot.
Tiny ecosystems
locking arms
with each other
nourishing,
moving,
rousing
this perpetual
potage of Life.
From the ground up.
Decaying leaves
Proliferating
interconnected mushrooms.
Damp, spongy,
bright-green mosses.
Lively ferns
Shaking their tendriled hips
as rain drops
and a little wind
move upon them.
I feel the
breathing in and out
of this place.
I gather up the scent of this
collective ...

September 16, 2015

I'm leaving this time

I’m leaving.
This time.
I mean it.
Not like a child
leaves the room angry,
but like a mother
leaves the child
for a Holy moment
to cry it out.
Cry it out.
CRY IT OUT.
Do whatever is necessary
to learn the
BIG lessons.
In the moments
where no comfort
is offered
because you
are becoming
whole
within yourself
aided only
by Spirit.
Reaching.
Acceptance.
In the best sense.
The point at which,
like the Psalmist sang,
“my soul is like
a weaned child
within me.”
Until the
kicking and screaming
deflates and softens
into a
bowed down

August 20, 2015

I am just waking up…

I…
am just waking up.
Like that Neo character
when the Matrix
became an object
he could see
from the outside.
No longer inside.
Alternate realities.
She, in the mirror.
new eyes staring out
of walls
that have become
windows.
The shock
the redness
of burst capillaries
in the cheeks
of the
new
born
wailing baby
of your being.
Out of the womb of delusion.
I am just waking up.