Monthly Archives for March 2014

winter’s edge

Cycling down tall & dark
tree-lined corridors
past the percussive blaze
of the drummer and his kit
commanding the helm of
a silent and shadowy meadow
deeper into the long night.
Wind-teared straightaways
burning fast ahead,
and descending
gradually cooler
to the misty-aired ocean.
Dark on dark
the undulating sand,
given light by glowing figures
orbiting sun-like centers,
a fleeting counterpoint
to the sparkling skeleton of
the white bone snake
slowly wheeling
overhead
and the heart-like
pounding
of the water’s edge.

a hundred other things

I am hesitant
to put the toothbrush
away.
The drawer with the toothpaste,
opened everyday,
will it speak to me less loudly of your absence
from those depths?

I said no boxes,
no rigid confines.
Allowing.
Freedom.
The only holding,
grounded
in cupped palms,
the myriad wrinkles
of this life
proffered
upward & outward,
stilled
at the eternal balance
between giving & receiving
waiting,
but not waiting.

There are a hundred other things
to remind me of you.

spanish guitar

inwardly-turning
warm and soft and sleepy
under the evening blanket
of this diamond-starred deep gateway,
quieted by richness
and blood-dripping spices,
the concave twin of
that gigantic mushrooming
belly full
rounded awareness
I
carried around last Friday,
my unexpectedly sprouted auric child,
so much incubating lately,
the spatial weight of it
pulling me out of time tracks
leaving the edges
all soft and unfocused,
but folding the distance
so that I know
as I lay here
with the deepening sapphires
and the young verdant things
and listen
as spring builds it’s song
over and through
that spanish guitar
climbing the fence
that you hear it
too

x-mas gift (2011)

last night I Dreamed
of the future
and I can still -feel- beneath my cheek
the wood
on which I will paint my masterpiece,
and I can see the light that comes in the
studio in which I will paint it,
and the mountains and trees that are around
those walls and windows
breathe to me behind my eyelids
with a faint melodic hum
calling to me down the loop of time,
and it became infinitely clear to me
the powerful goodness
of making and nurturing and
breathing the life of love into
everything I consecrate with my body.

That painting,
surrounded by the soft light of that studio,
which is nestled in that house
on a hillside
of mountains and trees
and holds dear friends and family
all engaged in this same loving endeavor,
I know it now,
that it lays in the Road of my life
stretching ahead of me.

and my love,
my love,
you were there,
woven throughout the air
of that place.

The song of the dream was so strong
I got up this morning
and nearly delivered a holiday present
of one less employee
to pack the car
and get decisively on the road
toward that place.

Oh, my life,
my Life,
I don’t know how exactly
we’ll get there,
but onward we go!

a sheet

oh sorrowful wait and whither!
shooting great silently-followed askings into the sky
those hollow-dregged rockets pinging
fast flotsam
while the wealth of youth
dangles
in full-bellied life-giving raindrops
off my fingertips,
lackluster explosions drawing away from
the jewel-like reality
of this full sheet
drying on the line,
some party toga,
a pitched and youthy fort,
a bundling of many things
into a close-comforted treasure
for a far journey,
a sharp-shapely delineator
to mark a feasting
in the wide world of nature
and our bright days,
a softness
between the rocks
and our curling bodies,
a warmth to keep
these pillowed tools
at rest
to keep
the dust off
as we settle
and step away through doorways
far & wildly illuminated,
a white backdrop
for your moving adventure
anchored off weathered stories
and glowing trees,
a frame
opaque with
all the colors
of your possibility.

here again,

a sheet,

on the line,

full,

like a many-monthed belly
calm-pond waiting
for that soulful breath
of wind
to move it
in fantastic shapes.