Wednesday, June 21, 2017

mid june

listen,
to that particle fullness
chirping beneath this ecru canvas
expansive
and
rolling, rolling
somedays nothing comes to the surface
but
the clouds of this storm
this rain
falling, falling
cycles & spirals
carousels of summer
thunder comes
once
again


Wednesday, June 14, 2017

dream at five o'clock in the morning

somewhere in the sculpted hole that is the moon
i fall
pressing hands against soil
feathered wet
from last night's thunderstorm
hail the size of apples pounds
lightening bright as lightening
downpour tempest water rising

i fall
grasping downpours melancholy
gasping fast to thunder booms
earth and feathers blue
hackberry's bark drips drips damp
from patchwork sky
grayest clouds and fireflies

drizzle
the rain abates
birds wake
except the great-horned owl
in the curly willow sighing
to light a comet tail burning
this night adjourning
somewhere in the sculpted hole that is the moon



Monday, June 12, 2017

strawberry moon

what is it that arises when you look around
to find yourself
discover yourself
.... in a meadow of emptiness
too busy watching your footsteps to notice the lack
too busy watching
listening
waiting
attending
too tied in knots to discover the void
suddenly
there you are
nothing pressing pressing in on
nothing pressing out
suspended jubilant molecules
pressing
down down to earth's fire
where is the water?
where is the moon?
where is love's surrender?
what is it that arises when you look around?
emptiness
vast blue-sky emptiness

advance
embrace
call it your name
grasp it
unfurl it
dissolve to it
become it
become emptiness
become vast
             and blue

allow it to unveil
unravel
stripped and tender
you are fire
you are water
you are surrender

you are the strawberry moon 

Thursday, June 8, 2017

of stasis & steps ...














i am moved by rainfall
and
courted by lilacs
discussed by leathered gypsies around campfires
fired up at dusk amongst aspen & age
embers burning the silk of our resistance
distance lies only in the disconnect
dormant is the dream in direct proportion to wakefulness
ease into this summer fire
ease into allowing the possible
love is only as small as your container:
dance with the morning
taste the rain on your tongue
be still

Sunday, June 4, 2017

in & of part one

timeless enfolding
syncopated rhythms of petaled tender
we turn inward while turning outward
to sun
to the violet edges of linen old
crinkled clasping of celadon hope to breast full-striving
for the sulfur spring
while doubt circles disguised as stardust
we loom fierceness with hands leaning in ....
how can we tender so to such persimmon fragility
while soothing our own feathered fear & bones?
holding in fractal spaces defined by
lips pressed to peach skin pressing protection white white
lean in
lean in
to love in all it's brilliance
to the cutting sorrow path
lean in

Saturday, June 3, 2017

birthdays












I have never been comfortable with birthdays.  Very sharp memories roll across my personal
super-screen of sherbet-tight ruche'd dresses, bobbie socks and birthday hats.  It is when the singing begins, that ballad to birthdays, that I would bolt from the room inexplicably overcome with--something.
Birthdays make me squirm … make me long for quiet, solitary moments near water or mountains or sky.  Recognition became intangible, uneasy, emotional.  Somewhere along the timeline, my psyche determined that to celebrate birthdays--to celebrate myself--with abandon and delight, somehow appeared wanting. I was afraid of the emotion of joy.
But, something is happening. Over the last few years, I am learning how to bend into the receiving, allow room for the gathering of things given: parties, cakes, trinkets, artistry and Love.
I am learning how to make room for not only joy, but for myself.
In receiving, I am softening & leaning into the grace of openness.
It is an expansive and grand thing to be recognized, to be celebrated--to be seen.
To those with the patience and skill to 'teach' me … to love me enough to really know me - thank you.
We should never be afraid of being seen
 ,,,, just don't sing that damn birthday song. 

Friday, June 2, 2017

hide and seek

Larkspur blue clementine sky
cotton crimson ache to sorrow's sigh
respite, repair wounded love's flight
to tie, to bind, to await the coming night

sing to me of linen loose--raw
a song unleashed upon prairie's devils claw
summer heat bears down to corn and furrowed row
rising smoke rings of river's solitary willow

raise ye up upon shoulders brown with rain
raise up the land, raise up the voices tame
fight the dirge,  the weariness left to bind
come the night and sleep is what we find

what we seek becomes not the treasure found
where we place our hearts ties fast and sound
to bone, to marrow this land cries out for one
the moon holds us captive there beyond the sun