Tuesday, July 14, 2015
and took myself past the Great Divide:
where the sand looks red
because the sky tells it to
and Mars doesn't seem so foreign
where I ceased to sweat
so I wondered if I was southern anymore
and what that meant?
Almost too late, I met a woman
earning her money like a Bedouin
with fainting goats reluctant to herd
she gathered us up anyway
whispering in our ears
fears she had no more
but still relatable to us.
Cautious, we rallied from four corners:
marveling at sandfalls,
and Atlantis being dammed,
or myths of legend peoples turned to stone
with a coyote's moan...
soaked in dust, we'd rode for days
playing musical chairs in-between
while I listened for the needle's pause
and my turn beside the shepherdess...
then it started again.
Mumford and Sons with an Italian's drawl...
with tales of serendipity's' call from a salt flat shore.
I could no more deny it
than my own southern speak
from my shotgun perspective
with that sun's last peak singing
celebrating all that we had become
in just three days, I wished:
That we were just getting started.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
there comes a moment in life as a parent
a moment of undiluted, focused clarity
when you see the child watching…
and you know…
you know that child is at once your mirror
and also your sponge….infinite possibility:
your chance to make a difference in this world
and if you’re lucky, you’ve noticed it early
because you’ve been watching her as well?
you’ve watched her wonder about lengthening shadows
and the furrows on your brow…
you’ve watched her wander aimlessly with a stick
zig-zagging behind, zen-like in mother-earth
a meditation garden of her own imagination…
you’ve watched her come into her self.
and to be completely honest,
there’s a celebration to be had there?
a welcoming home….in letting her unfold
and be who she will…whoever that is,
learning from the zigs and zags in that shifting sand
all the while offering her a hand to hold when she needs one?
there comes a moment in life as a mother…
a moment when you discover
the child that you’ve delivered…
can also deliver you ~
if you’ll let her.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
someday ~ for my dad
days of grace, saving face as the last light fades on someday
in shallowed breath the time that’s left is marshy tide pulling away
subsiding tears ~ perfected fears of due time come to call
we’re all awash in the human cost of shadow's valley in the fall…
on someday. One day I too will find my mirror lacks reflection.
I’ll walk alone the long way home catching memories of inflection:
energy burned in place, captured time and space I’ll revisit in our dreams
time and again we’ll walk hand in hand the foggy nightscapes so serene...
Friday, March 20, 2015
for Ms. Agnes, Holocaust survivor
they wore stripes…
and stars pinned to chests
swollen with lies they were sold to get them
there...still freshly ringing.
tired, hunrgy and huddled
they yearned to breathe once again
a freedom they had known
just days before the death trains came
taking their motherland,
raining with a poison of generations denied,
numb even among the 7,000 remaining
they had no thing left but a colossal loss
embossed with apathy.
they were like pinpoints on a black shroud.
swollen, proud chests
endowed and silently believing more than we should
the blurbs we are told to keep us shielded behind borders.
like inscriptions on a historical plaque,
we are tired, poor and huddled.
hungry for the ideal of our motherland
and our freedoms
to know the truth once and for all
in all of our stars and stripes.
Soon there will be no more survivors.
Soon there will be no more survivors.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
I found this list
of places to look-up
without a stiff neck:
only paused wondering,
shaded eyes looking…
even more-so here: there’s
no fancying flight or Newton’s defying
antics …just being, sometimes
discarded or maybe lost?
my cosmos reflected in a storm’s drain
refraining from judgement
Can I do the same?
Within this cosmic realm of daily
Creation in waking and sleeping?
Whether I deserve it or not?
the mirror finds me:
with my naked words
whispered with a reader’s inflectiontranscending mortal immortality.
Monday, October 13, 2014
pumpkin moon, celestial bliss
shine down this giggling goddess ~
in gently rising autumn flight,
with tawny glowing sunset delight:
a pumpkin moon light’s watching me
in fairie worldly curiosity veiled in ghostly
don’t hide away but help me burn
the seasonings of passed learning:
in celestial delight with childlike eyes
I feel myself turning onward inward ~
with luminous contemplation
carved not by man, but woman’s
wax full ~ wane soft ~ still reminding me of lovers
sharing starry skies…spooning dunes and
questioning runes, new moon now in my mind’s eye:
blank still willing silence
freedom sky’s kiss on
tonight we fly
in our pumpkin sky
Monday, August 4, 2014
I used to think that ignorance was bliss, for all the children of the world, and in this moment, the ones in Gaza
I used to think ignorance was bliss
but then I kissed my ass goodbye
and opened up my mind infinitely.
I became possibility, and what did I see?
mosaic creation’d being:
all my pieced parts are you and me and we
every one and thing being in love.
so I don’t feel ignorance is bliss anymore.
I feel it’s a prison: divisions in the making.
I feel it’s war and apathy.
I feel it’s a sorry excuse for humanity:
I feel it’s children without hope,
starving in their bombed-huts…
while others are in the drive-up.
I feel it’s a copout.
I feel it’s greed and gluttony and perversion…
denial of subjectivity
in an immature tantrum…
a case of the conundrums.
I feel it’s conformity
and a made for t.v. movie,
or even a dumbed-down sitcom.
and religion on a Sunday morning.
I feel it invites mediocrity,
blind melancholy without seeing.
I feel it labels and makes us smaller;
I feel it denies our universal matter…
and wonder and imagination and beauty
I feel it’s just static scatter.
I used to feel ignorance was bliss.