Wednesday, December 21, 2016

a walk in the woods on a winter morn

felted marshmallows lie upon my tongue thick
as a peregrine's wings
white-gold to blue to crimson shining
brambles of turkish delight weave about the
dangerous & tempting
as a cherry pie
come! come!
we require a rescuer
a savior
disguised as a bumblebee
with mighty horns of opalescent silver
Oh, what tales we'll tell of this dark time
what bridges we will build to worlds awaiting
upon my feet--
raven feathers cling to yesterday
savoring the sweetness of memory
blue jay'd
(age does that)
(wisdom listens)
lean upon my blackberry shoulders
rubus occidentalis
walk with me through
thicket & stone to taste
the salted sea
this coolness of a winter morning
this drala path
this tender journey home ...

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

whisper song

Goldfinches sing against the sun
breath of light-yellow-pausing
the chatter of nuthatches
to this blue-jay-morning
trembling tenacious life
always brimming
of this bright new day
of the shimmering-solstice-sun

Thursday, November 17, 2016

when the moon opposes venus in capricorn

somewhere south of here, i became meadowlark'd
solitary sentinel perched on dawn's break
green grass, milo, cornsilk call
vastness unfolding
fog fills the frame tight
yellow-gray worshipper of sun's might
feathered flight

somewhere east of here, i became your lover
tempered by time's cloud ponies
stars and blue snow line our scars
purple the bruise--fragile the thread
cradling regret to the end of the line
rising electric to field thyme
we harvest the cost--we weigh the crime

somewhere west of here, i became water
polished aqua-sea-glass smooth
smelling of pearls, dust and salt
tethered to the wind
upon tides high crest i climb
finding my way by polaris' shine
landing upon winter's shore intact and divine

somewhere north of here, i am me
of meadowlark feathered bravery
of love--replete with cracks of pocked light gleaming
of water opalescent mercury seeming
to journey the bridled heart thru trails hardness
breadcrumbed by darkness
Ah, what bliss this sharpness!

Monday, November 14, 2016

on the vastness of being

up your gaze
to the vast blue sky
sweeping west to east
blue to blue
white to white
we become what we look at
blue to moonrise
white to vastness
we become
gaze rising

Wednesday, October 19, 2016


just like
the light changes
and here in mid-October
it is April
things are soft
the sky is soft
green growing things stretch
yielding to warmth & airplanes
somewhere to the east
a dog barks
a wren pings the vastness
no blue in the sky
the sun soft against the clouds
layered white upon gray upon white
only clouds
AH! Look there! a small patch of blue opening ...
a perfect azure
yielding to sun
to this day
suddenly a yellow leaf falls
breaking the April spell
it is October
the softness remains ...

Halloween '62

Mad men
vodka gimlets
confident and breezy as a quarter to three martini
pendalton skirt zipped tight
stockings & heels decidedly bold
traveling back


back even further

on the tactile drag of my hand across an old burlap costume
closing eyes
caught in the fiery presence of their fate & mirth
roll the dice & gather in your hands their smokey sacredness
but how I struggle
to recall their voice
tone . .
the slight clipped northern accent
the even-mellowed sexiness
of her
what I would give to sit amid their simple conversation
their jokes, their laughter
closing my eyes, i reach & reach & reach but can not catch it
voices hold magic like smell :
to transport, to sooth, to churn the energy of missing
fuel connection & friendship,
to sink us into another time
to place us fully into the now & the knowing
fully wanting a voice to call us home
at dawn

Monday, October 10, 2016


i open windows to hear the wind
as i become sunshine on a red bicycle
at the corner of
west cooper and monarch
it is October
leaves are dipped in gold-russet-beet-red
tomorrow never comes
if i can just hear the wind ,,,,
it is always today
that day
untethered autumnal smoothness
love does that
allows the wind to place you home
we are golden
in the timeless dust of eternal days
by mercury
and cool pressure
caught upon a red bicycle
on the
of west cooper

Thursday, October 6, 2016

harvest and the harrow

waning moon trails steps me to the proximity of you
black, gold, ivory fills my senses with presence & transport
expectation of haunting fragility solitary chilled Guinness excitement
sparkle & shine, sparkle & shine
up to the edge of the all that me oh my oh .....
rolling in craft & joyful song 


a strong sense of you catches me aware
"the way it will be"
worlds collide, words touch, walls tumble opening to the night
eyes close, rhythm, breathing deep arms surround me
The traveling ghost of you is firm behind me
we become
a gold rococo moment

Wednesday, September 21, 2016


i am thunder
a pendulum equinox
graying into evening's felted weight
bumblebees journey to hive
trees press against the passing blue
monarchs to bark rich & thrumming with marigold wings
algae velvets green root to crown
across the linen lines of day
chimes the crystalline hour
home beckons
hairs on forearm pulse electric/electric
amber alchemies blood
love's alchemy
the home of moon and star
the cradle of wind
the arms of winter
cloud to ground
i am thunder
pressed to you 

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

weather patterns

No tumult of hurricane 
no straight-line wind ripping the ground 
no flood waters rising
no ice storm cracking ...
softer than forecasted
stronger than expected
a mingled taste of blue night 
crescent moon on the roof of my mouth
swallowed into
white river birch falling 
honeyed amber autumn 
pressure swells
into the corona lunar gravity
of you

Sunday, September 11, 2016

never in vain

water fills the river
surprising tindered fields as autumn steals in
cooling the constraint of regret
cooling the arrogance of summer
water fills the river
color dances along the maple's branches ...
a thousand shades of green
leaves illuminated by sun & reflection
a thousand shallows
endless bends
across the vastness of this moment
water fills the river

Friday, August 26, 2016


beneath the white birch tree
winged creature blue ... still & grim
aura of sun fierce
captured within

offered up as a gift--a question hangs
its random relevance veiled
gamma rays ferris wheel overheard
the answer burns to a tale

the white birch calls
where a downy sacrifice bleeds
blue as remembrance
fragile as campanula
something is given
as innocence is

Thursday, August 4, 2016


use to
have to

trim & fold
tiny pieces of fabric
press hold mold
moved from mind to page
and back again

white on white

boiling rising unfurling
in waterfall torrents
to tame
that wild
hollow marigold
where does she reside on the quiet days?
... the unanswered days?
where is the spark of divinity's calling?
in what corner does she rest?
on what branch does she lay stretched to sun & gods gravity?

i will be surprised.

Monday, August 1, 2016

come with me ...

we scramble most days
to attach our wings of weighted feathers:
glistening violet under the sun
not awake, not yet asleep
somewhere in-between
dazed by days unremarkable
dumbstruck by the outline of the others rich & carouseled
how we stand in the in-between with love & grace is the test
how we shoulder those warrior feathers
in spite of
because of
tempest & frost
wind, welter & stillness
hush little baby don't you cry 
we rise
most days to vastness
to find our solace in midnight's

Thursday, July 21, 2016

48% ... pressure @ 29.98" ✑

to rest astride the hope
not fix
not decide
allow the collide

the gray to blue to green
common hours separate the pulse
waking to want to wait
licorice root & peppermint tea
beneath blue sky & gamma rays
hope shimmers in the trail of luna moths

allow the rise

the rest
is found

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

100º at nine twenty-five

cicadas sing  
bone rubbed against dreams flutter
heat rising from soil
pressed between green plains
waves of light and shadows long
cicadas song
wings folded to twilight's azure
night deepens
allowing the violet to come 


violet plumes of leaning
tapped & tempered by thunderheads rising in the west
air lies electric upon the backs of cicadas
rain impacts breathing as the land rises in a steamed goldenrod collide
harder it falls
the sound & the sensation & the smell
fill every break & crack & hole
we are this violet-shifting morning sky ...

Monday, July 18, 2016


blue was the final color we learned to see
wild--startling that discovery ....
pressed there against the vast white sky
allowed to unfurl
tempered try
the color of truth
(the secret color of love )
the petaled nuanced hope we speak of
coned and gathered
color only exists as it is perceived by the individual
texture felt by the fierce and mystical
what place do we hold after
four thousand five hundred years?
how viscous the scar, how warm the tears
where is the sovereign sun to warm our stars?
tempest darkness
harbored rising
light of words and tongues opalizing
Oh midnight ,,,
deep hollow gleams
embrace the night
delphinium dreams

Saturday, July 9, 2016

kwee low

it is one of those times ......
kept awake at night-times
the flutter of everything ..... churning, questioning ......
the hum of the fan overhead,
the slight, slow metronome drip from the bathtub down the hall, 
the silence -
the bone-bending aching silence of 3 o'clock in the morning .
the echo of loneliness and
a reconciliation of the parts as they spill into the grey
as sleep fails to take me ....
and i run blindly thru some cerebral stormy labyrinth searching out something true & whole .....
the green walls & dim light enclose me as some earthy bower
yet i am restless & struggling against this chained fabric ....
i know how i would hold you if you were mine.
i want a sleep that is painless & clean, as you lie pressed against my back
the soft hardness of you

sleep fails to take me
.... and i am left in wakeful-moon- dreams

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

the moon's epistle

how tight this blossomed mask of illusion fits
how deep the thorns of loneliness cut
barely breathing
yearning blue & folded
the long, twisted knot hits bone
needing nothing
puppet to master
stone to velvet-soft
wind to sail
fearless yet weary of pretense & discord
struggling to keep sacred
that opal light
that lies along the chesnut-cord of tenderness
a reciprocated knowing intimacy
locked within the pandora's box called 'there'
in all that is you . . . is me
both light & fire
gather the plumage of peacock-gold & scarlet-blue feathers that

Friday, June 17, 2016


beautiful boys
tempered by sun and sorrow's fill
unleashed love to border's will
what cost
what sacrifice to bear
summer comes to mark the dare
warriors step across the checkered line
shoulder-to-shoulder allies soon define
what rises
what now will be the toll
of this dark age gloaming
this wound that grays our soul
beautiful boys
to your light we seek
to your grace we speak
love's strong redemption
we cry -- hold up! hold up!
how grief transforms to fill earth's golden cup
beautiful boys ...
love victorious

Thursday, June 16, 2016

lying in the shadows of morning

in spite of, or enhanced by the contours of your bones upon my fingertips
I feel things in the morning with this electric sensualness . . .
I remove sheets from my bed, cotton-cool as i slide my hand inside
quilted cotton batting - frayed smoothness, memories of line-drying & my mother's hands
methodically moving thru the routine steps of a new day . .
sunshine fights it's way into this house shadowed by corners, walls & colored glass
methodically moving from room to room, making things right.
lining 'em up, dusting them off, finding their place . .
lining 'em up, dusting them off, finding their place
arranging a vase of wild thistle . .
careful of thorns
finding just the right light . .
it is quiet
laundry tumbles
sun shines
the dog demands sparkle-time
(he likes to chase luminosity made by the reflection of bright-shiny-thing)
so I give him some time
I need music & coffee to pull me out of this feeling of wonderland.
this quiet slightly-shadowed place ;
fix you pops up, coffee hot enough . .
examining my space
examining my life
singing along
tumbling along
laundry folded, plants watered, porch swept, poop bagged, baby lettuce encouraged, chamomile fondled with these wonderland hands
finding my life
finding a place . .
and returning to the sheets and their relenting stark coolness
feel and move through this day
noticing the shine ....
feeling the cool cotton weight of another day
chasing the luminosity

Tuesday, May 31, 2016


the hollow rumble of emptiness
stillness gloaming under a Saturn moon
clear and vibrant the night
tumbled amongst memories shine
wonderland weary triumphant
we soar, we sleep
we swim in vast waters meant for
yellow and forgiveness

where does the bumblebee lay her head come the dark?
how softly do you sleep without me?
how beautiful is blue?

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

sometimes there is nothing but thunder

sometimes there is nothing but thunder
as i allow it to penetrate bones
fighting gravity

the carnival stills ....
there is nothing but thunder
and the steady pouring rain
eyes close & time tumbles clear
presence holds the moment

thought, struggle, fear & drive
forgotten against this green-wet-constant
there is nothing but the thunder
a particle of blue pulsing broken atoms
in rhythm with the falling

memory is distant--shared
pain is absent
thunder fills the holes
found .....


Friday, May 20, 2016

most mornings

We listen to our rock-n-roll most mornings
or a little country-soul tied up with a bow
move with the focus of a young kid watching a TV show
most mornings
A cup of coffee, a cup of tea
clean the bathroom, load of laundry
what to turn to next becomes the quandary
most mornings
Thoughts of him as I step out the door
the rain lands upon my face
his love becomes my saving grace
most mornings
Moving thru these ordinary hours
allowing the colors & breeze to soften soul
there is no want, no filling the hole
most mornings
Tending the house, reverent & tempered
the routine stays the same
except when it rains
most mornings

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Of a May Morning Found

sits in the light of nine o'clock morning
listening to pearl jam in her mind
blue jay calls outside the window
open to the southwest wind
no one knows of the truth that binds her
no one knows her quiet fears
just him

moves through her day with intent abiding
moves to the shadow of the sun
bends to the smells of the glisten & mallow
leans upon no one
no one hears the song that keeps her dancing
nudges the borders of her dreams
just him

paused & perched like a bird on a silver limb
tentative feathers brush her mind
rising from embers dedication lost
found open to vast-sky sunshine
no one reaches to the marrow
no one scraps the hollow
just him

Monday, May 2, 2016

copeland cowslip

winds out of the west at 14mph
on the second day in May
2 degrees shy of 60
with both hands firmly upon the dark maple's branches
tenderly throw the porcelain cup
- copeland cowslip -
from no greater height than 18 feet
aiming for the grass
just there ,,,
where the sun shines the softest
given these factors
with the
the moon waning crescent
the cup will not shatter

though a small crack
will appear

when it rains


shadows linger
baseboards of this sequined desert
whispering of turquoise disillusionment
brandishing the cut-glass bottle of
regret and doubt
circle skirts twirl unheeded against this purple dusk-sky
dust disturbed in determined driven movement
unable to ignore the call
unable to remain


kick it up & dig that boot deep to earth
kick it up & dance away from surrender's bitter-root
nod to the shadows
grab it's gnarled ancient hand
take it to your chest to beat alongside
is there another word for heart?
red, bloody pumping thing
muscle of soul & life
beating madly present on this purple-sky day
bring in the charcoal shadow
outline the tap tap tap
as fire crackles & leaps calling shadows to light

it is only about
dancing in the dust

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Day Thirty: Le vase brisé

The broken vase 

The vase where these verbena die 
from the softest blow to crack 
the stroke but a whisper of a brush 
no sound no revealing 
but a slight wound crept 
small crystal death of this day 
a slow marching line 
made always heavy this path
how her cream drips out 
of ancient flowers drained 
if you should doubt 
do not touch, it is broken 
often how the hand of my love
would softly caress my heart, that wound 
then that heart is split to all 
the flower of my love's departing 
always my eyes will see the world 
how it grows and weeps with sorrow 
this wound so precise and deep 
do not touch, it is broken 

Le vase brisé   by   
Sully Prudhomme

Le vase où meurt cette vervaine
D'un coup d'éventail fut fêlé ;
Le coup dut effleurer à peine,
Aucun bruit ne l'a révélé.

Mais la plus légère meurtrissure,
Mordant le cristal chaque jour,
D'une marche invisible et sûre
En a fait lentement le tour.

Son eau fraîche a fui goutte à goutte,
Le suc des fleurs s'est épuisé ;
Personne encore ne s'en doute,
N'y touchez pas, il est brisé.

Souvent aussi la main qu'on aime,
Effleurant le coeur, le meurtrit ;
Puis le coeur se fend de lui-même,
La fleur de son amour périt ;

Toujours intact aux yeux du monde,
Il sent croître et pleurer tout bas
Sa blessure fine et profonde ;
Il est brisé, n'y touchez pas.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Day 29: remember

I remember waking from a dream of you--removed-shaken--you clung to me the remainder of the day as a thistle tucked alongside my Vena Cava
(strangely unsettling and comforting that was)
I remember eating cherry pie in my grandmother's kitchen as the evening light trickled onto the yellow formica tabletop--shimmering the cherries to gold
I remember the pain that removed me from my body
I remember writing poetry on a bus ride from Denver to Spearfish--patterns of moonlight on blue snow
I remember the stolen delight each time I would sneak into my mother's room and look into her wardrobe--neatly folded lingerie, sweaters smelling of Tabu--a woman's things
(how distant that time felt--foreign & mysterious)
I remember the first time he kissed me--the fit of his lips--the linear steel of his body against my own fragility
(the immediate undeniable familiarity of this home)
I remember the smell of fresh cut grass and the press of him upon me with stars above and voices hollering our names on a summer night thick with fireflies & surrender
I remember the god-damn time that black Shetland pony bite me
I remember hunting for leaves down a treelined country road with my mother--I was five
I remember how otherworldly cold you were--that last night in your hospital room when I lay next to you watching ER--I tucked your legs in as I left. You were ice. You died the next morning. How easy that grief still rises--a swirling mass of fine-grained magma
I remember dreams of pursuit & captivity--skyscrapers, gray skies, the hollowness of displacement
I remember joy bursting thru every molecule of my being when the wait was over
I remember walks around the park with my grandfather--we spoke to one another without words
I remember losing myself to numbness, inattention
I remember forgetting
I remember remembering the vastness of my mind as I woke to my tattered & aged self
I remember the crimson thread of time--nonlinear quantum glass plains
I remember you & him & moments steeped in the azure violet hues of this day
This day--I remember

Thursday, April 28, 2016


It is sometimes hard for me to not be Overwhelmed ....
Overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of sensations not entirely of this world, by unseen energies and colors that collide with my heart and seep into every particle of my being.
On April 19th, I was lucky enough to catch Mumford & Son in Omaha.
A rollicking, wild high-energy time was had by all: straight-up-standing-up-all-the-fucking-time-dancing ... words to every song known and chanted by this mostly hipster audience numbering 18,000+
And i thought, what GODS are these?
No mere mortals harbor our souls & lift voices in unison so ... only gods can bring us to our feet to dance & sing with such full abandon and soul. Only Gods ,,,

And then Prince died.

Two days later at the age of 57.
Prince Rogers Nelson was merely 4 days younger than me, born in my father's birthplace of Minnesota. Facts & stats.
I'm not telling you anything you don't already know by now, even if you were not a fan prior to his death, we all have now been vaccinated with our purple-paisley serum.
Prince has become our international object of mourning--Purple has been declared his for all time, (though i do believe it is more about the paisley)
Everyone has something to say, something to write and i love listening to the voices of my writer & non-writer friends lament and expostulate. However, do not lay claim to his music, his artistic talent for your own generation -- Oh, No, no no! He belongs to no one .... and everyone.
No one and Everyone.
Prince was a God of genuine transformation--reaching into our bedrooms nearly 30 years ago--reaching deep, deep into the caverns of our true selves and waking us to that true self - nudging open our sexuality, waking us to our yearnings. He raised high the box of crayons and spilled them upon the floor--every color had a note, a tone, a rift and crescendo ... arranged and gathered up in patterns that lit our fierce souls on fire and quieted our discontent. In his lyrics, in his unexpected melodies;
we heard the cry of sirens ancient and forgotten, we heard and felt moved beyond mere notes on a page ,,, it was cursive to our kindergarten scribble ... and he called forth a response from our true selves with truth-creations of our own; words, music, fashion, feeling ... being.
And sometimes,
we just danced.
I felt, as a white girl from the plains of Nebraska, as if Prince were my very own secret discovery ...
No one else ventured here ,,,, no one knew what i knew ,,,,
I was singular in my passion and moved beyond the interests of my peers to hear things differently ... to look past the expected and step into the purple rain.
This. Factually untrue, but i believed it so.
The pursuits of my youth were cupped within his songs; each dance, each fuck, each romantic entanglement, each loss .... doves cried.
I have my list of favorites from James Taylor, The Beatles to Springsteen ... Prince didn't ever make that cut, that list, because he was something not-of-the-rest, he stood apart -- a God.
Someone who would always be there to outline the year, the decade, the emotion.
He was always supposed to be there; heralding in a new age, a new twist of perspective and a new rising of that thing-that-happened-in-ones-chest-when-listening-to-a-new-Prince-song-for-the-first time ,,,, that Rising.
Prince Rogers Nelson died on April 21st 2016.
I cry every day in some small, quiet way for his passing--this passing -- this sadness that so Overwhelms. But with that sorrow has come a vow -- to find and polish that genuine true-self that so long ago danced alone in her bedroom to Little Red Corvette.
Danced alone, and knew how to live and how to shine unapologetically.

Go forth and Overwhelm you Crazy Human!!
Time is short, Music lies everywhere ,,,
Go forth be Overwhelmed every-every single day by all you can gather to your soul ,,,,,
Be Overwhelmed with this Thing called Life.
Let's Get Crazy.

Day Twenty-Six: slipping

IF there comes a day when i do not remember you, please write me of adventures we did not take:
places where we held hands but never graced, sunsets we licked the last crimson from
lakes we swam in 'til the day was done--moon hung
tell me of stories we whispered from cozy nests, tucked alongside mountain summits--forests thick
recount our days walking river's edge as brine and earth fill senses brim
resplendent sensations trick--every detail's trick creates for me a life paintbox deep
have me remember foreign shores where we traced the steps of ancestors fiercely bold
fill my mind with vellum pages richer than the life i lead--filled with you and true love's bleed
point out the constellations we've traveled to--across the vast indigo blue
i can not imagine this day will come when your face is distant and unfamiliar to me
but if that should happen by crook, by trick or by unraveled mind please take your hand and place it in mine

Day Twenty-Eight: tamed

to call no more
nor say my name
at river's shore
to fold moon's flame
as a blanket for our heads
untangle darkness' thread
pierce the finger
your effort vain
i'm sorry
the goldfinch sings
to be the one who wears your ring
keeping love quiet--tart
love falls apart
while all the time
who holds your heart?
so be the one
my soul--it searches for balm's claim
bones ache with grace and pain
wings tire of this tattered life
wings itch for full flight
and i carried on
learned my part
from dusk to dawn
do you ever think you are enough?
do you ever bend or give enough?
without a fuss
than what you could be
asked for no more
painted the walls
hollowed the core
i smoothed the edges
devoid of touch and the girl i knew
i built myself anew for you
no laughter weighing down hearts try
no lie
no form
no circus tents
no fortunes told
tightrope's torment
no ebullient dancing ponies here
just fear
removed all trace of love's combat
trimmed the fat
cut my hair
dipped in remonstration
sugar-rimmed intoxication
the cost of you

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Day twenty-six: Tor:Con 5

We wait for storms brewing off to our west
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

The breeze is gentle as sparrows call to sky
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Clouds stack against the Blue, Thick and Blest
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Of Blue Jay, Mornings and Cabbage Butterfly
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Breeze morphs to Gale as Gray steals Skies
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Shifts in the Spectrum of Color and Light
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Gray Darkens this Morning--Coolness comes Bold
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Birds still their Song to Somber Quiet Flight
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Of Weather and Welter on Prairies Vast Gold
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

The Budding of Leaves on Spring's Waking Sighs
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!
The Coming of Chaos--Storm's Enterprise
Roll on Thunder, in Rain do we Rise!

Monday, April 25, 2016

Day 24: amuse

harpy scrondrel
resplendant in evergreen
bewildered tempests thrusts
to pandemic trinkets
to cherish
to adore
from gamin's lore
oh baffled candle bright!

Day 25: at the edge of the hole

"nothing between me and the white fire of stars"
from this height--this day's debris field
thick as marrow lies
exposed from shovel's bite
this refracted light
of Mercury and Mars

better to acknowledge the hole
the narrow line between darkness
and sighs
stars align with bone cold North
to wrap intention's truth
in love's velvet toll

heavy the verdant weight and shadow
knowing the tale's end of things
without the lace-crown prize
rest here well you noble thieves!
rest here amoungst Spring's glory
all bound in honeysuckl'd willow

of what and who is mine and ours:
this place where i sit
molded, formed of red clay--sighs
resolved, resolute and wise
stars at play in catch/release
this fairy tale spun and told
nothing between me and the white fire of stars

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Day 23: Sonnet MCMLVIII

Of Gods are born the crystalline harbored sighs
Chants joyous raised upon feathered lips
Nobly wild we dance to one who never dies
Eternal suns and moons play at love's mortal eclipse
Daring fragilities opal ego trips
To one Purple shade we bend--we pray
Might this foreshadow some divine apocalypse?
A pulling, a calling to the vast blue sky?
Yet, how we waken here--how open become our eyes
Now in truth we recognize one of fey
To know the wild rhyme, to understand the why
A God of tempest's symphony in a rasberry beret
How can magic ever reappear and restore?
This dark, metamorphic age pressed on Earth's orb
This world of Sorrow and Love we must now Absorb

Friday, April 22, 2016

Day 22: Still the Brisk Sparrow Song

Senses alight to the once-removed sting of Winter's cut 
   Memories flood 
Wrapping bone to the black & white images of 1968
Smelling of gingersnaps & tasting of pink pistachio nuts
Held in my father's hands Irish-pale tinged bourbon-late 
   Stilled of tempest & storm in the wee after-hours of a 
      Borealis glow   
Held in that 
   Timeless arcane present glow of ticking clocks       
Dream breathing contained and measured          
   Tick tocking tick tock comes the snow ….
Ivory-taupe curtains part to curtains of crystals ice clear 
These moments captured, held and treasured  
  Oh Child! 
Sleep with Summer rain & the green of Spring growing 
      Oh Earth! 
Pause in night's space and hold to precious hope 
         Oh Love!  
               You will find me cobalt knowing
Pressed against a star 323 light years from the Sun 
   As seen thru a Celestron Telescope 
  On the first Saturday after the Winter Solstice      
       Find me, drenched in tiger's milk          
Wearing tangerine & ruby silk             
Ah!  How the Taurus moon transports thru 
   These walls to palace-pleasure
     To serve an ivory draught of sanity's mindful measure 
       Beginning's taupe  
Black & white become varied to the gray    
   Gray becomes the night as glow becomes the heart       
      Beat beating to the swirl of ice, glass, rye & whey
Why in such a kaleidoscope must we so soon depart?      
   Age & memory lie upon the pale hands beholden    
Silent child knows no demons on her tongue to sing
Sorrow & Mirth; sisters, knitting under moon-glow   
   As love lies waking ever-golden       
Art, beauty, music define 
   The deep amber spectrum sting          
How do we come to measure the lives we know?
Of darkest blue-indigo night, hearts beat & dwell    
   To tell of stories that rest in Willoughby's tomb
Holding onto secrets and stories under carnelian's spell
         Oh what wonders will there be to bloom?    
Tender are nights where all sleeps but one 
  One whose magic weaves between worlds of 
     Glow & Gray
One whose pale Irish hand 
   Knows how to steady the light    
Tender are the dawns of Cherry Blossom Sun       
Tuck me in and hold me tightly sweet to this day          
   Wake me to Sun & Snow bright 
      Spring dances in dreams on this night   
         Smelling of pine & blue-vanilla skies       
Tasting of malt, ginger & dream-flights         
As Summer waits steady and sure in myth's sugar sighs
   Rest a bit still, as pink becomes day
Rest in warm sureness and think of Springs clover
   Greet the day Oh Child Wise!
We are the Northern Lights
To the Sun, to Love we move ever closer ….  

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Day Twenty: sky-faller



rain, rain go away
come again another day
days-gray .....

Tuesday, April 19, 2016


kiting fleeting spark
poised in the tree outside at two o'clock
aubergine drops from Jupiter
enveloping in seductions tangled expectations
perhaps i missed the coming of age
the coming of rage
delight mined from silver lips
ready for your tongue
ready for words unfiltered
and poured from the gods ....
presence pierces bones & light
this two o'clock gray pressing light
kiss me 

Day Nineteen: {how to} listen to birds in the morning

{how to} listen to birds in the morning
requires golden {pause} stilling
to the cirrus circling chaos
< sorrow's quaking fire
to root & nebula's core
lift up
to heaven's fog & blue
wait     for     it ....
the birdchatter of dawn
dew-gleaning green
close eyes softly
there ...
blue jays, cardinals, finches all
robins spring call
to our opening
stay where you are ...
be the sky

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Day Seventeen: parselene

abell clusters flickering
reflect moonlight's whispering
grism quarks spin casting within
cirrus cloud crystals
carbon flash mistrals
bound to the latitude
scatter elipse at absorptions edge
the taste of your fermion
your hadron rima
Valhalla's nebula
oh how backscattered the afterglow!
Achilles calypso
starquake shimmering
to the tidal friction
of your

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Day Fourteen: Divination

Now the wind has stilled, rain is coming...
Soon the coppery lifting of petrichors rise
Thunder vanquishes winter to April magic
Penisive green budded things thrumming
Wind stilled soothes the old maple's thighs
Morning shifts light to the glow of a gray-opal spring
Diffuse clouds take hostage thunders havoc
Waiting for nature's vast show this morning brings

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Day Thirteen: fortune cookie

this too is part of what is going on right now

blue ink
blue jay
blue-alice sky
unmistaken candy talisman
revealed in
blue ink
blue jay
blue-alice sky
vast & possible
as i was
blue-swallowtail morning
at last

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Day Twelve: Index of Ten O'Clock Morning; Sunny & Indulgent (an index poem)

Abstract, more aligned to reality than we understand or will admit may be thoughts
Apples, while walking through the forest we came upon a meadow of watercolor 

Blankets, she beckoned across the vast field of zinnias and forgotten 

Cadence, when writing you I fall into silent 
C-words, finding such tactile and implicit innuendo in every 

Decidedly, how can one take a flight of stone steps to the unknown so 

Ephemeral, the times between our interactions are long but seem 
Eros, of stars and light rise 

Flight, transfixed upon the rock he stood staring at the pelicans ready to take 

Gambol, watching the two 

Hidden, nothing is as sacred as that which is for the moment 
Hijacked, someone pulled up the circus tent--high wires and crows

Iridescent, and, their bodies lay in a spot of sunlight 

Jambalaya, childhood rests brewed and bothered until it boils up 

Keep, a, silently and sacredly we seal up our dreams as though locked within 

Lips, tongues dance within our 

Mystery, we soar as others fail to fly remains a dark

Nonsense, of cupcake rabbit holes these words morph to 

Opossums, she holds a remarkable fondness for 

Pearl, every human form becomes upon this blue rock a fierce but fragile 

Queer, pressing my body against your wall naked and intent feels suddenly 

Root, where home no longer serves as our 

Sacred, licorice and peppermint tea served alongside double-stuffed oreos becomes 
Scarlet, dreams exist against the fibers of the ordinary moments painted 

Texture, smooth to rough shines 

Uncovered, sunlight catches us 

Violet, transcendent and together we are 

Wildly, thunderstorms nourish the longing tempered
Wings, improbable construction these things of feathered 

Xyris difformis, yellowed-eyed grass found on bogs and pond shores is 

Yesterday, of such intangible forgotten hours waits

Zinnias, with proper care magnificently bright will grow the western sunflowes 

Monday, April 11, 2016

Day Eleven: cathartes aura

every night
large dark birds begin their sky-dance
thick bizarre numbers
swirling concentric formations
these buzzards glide
in search of ... carrion? chaos?
not ceasing
'til darkness comes ....
for our spent hours

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Day Ten: from the shelf

on the road
higgelity piggelity pop!
South, North, East & West
life is a verb
Finnegan Wake
At Hell's gate
Still Life With Woodpecker
Blackberry Hollow
This Explains Everything
The Road Home 

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Day 9: drive all blames into one

"today, i would wed you"
unusual--boldly wild that comes
the blow of it--
blame rests with the wind;
blustering so fierce
relentless pressing of grass & grasping
blame might lie on the abundance of flowers;
sun-bright punch-drunk tulips
daffodils lemon-blonde
hyacinth noble & heavy
of karma's sentence
(those fucking uptight
passing my hand across the surface of things
texture & temperature
allow the release
allow the leap
easy--to lay the crime on things
easy to surrender to the bliss of the thing
for one x one moment--

more than likely
it is the wind

Friday, April 8, 2016

Day Eight: The Tale of the Amethyst-Blossom Spring

there is a shrub that grows
thirty feet from my door
across a narrow street
its pearly psychedelic purple hue bursting
redolent and refined
a portal to another time
somehow out-of-place
amongst waking ferns
and concrete
it beckons with shadows dark
light defined by goldfinches
and blue jay's riches
unknown its species--its name
thirty feet from my door
no less no  more
to discover where it goes
becomes my secret
becomes the story
rhododendron bursting

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Day Six: Fragaria vesca

the first time comes back
transported in bursts of pointed captured memory
wind bold unrelenting flash;
first whiff--fragrant wildness
first touch--sticky promise
dimpled berry
wee yellow seed-dots defining opal evermore
summer's portal to childhood divinity
and savor
the Sun 

Day Five: Hopi Pink Flour Corn

...of dark amaranth gems
polished by prairie winds
and neglect
forgotten in the back of a dresser
made by my grandfather in 1924...
what silk comes from loss?
nourishment pulled from sun
tucked and turned
to tendered earth
to rise
cerise sweetness

Tuesday, March 29, 2016


in the doldrums of late winter 
there are no words
tricky illusive basterds .... 
they are nowhere
well, of course ... 
they're somewhere 
but not 
.... falling from these fingertips 
in a threaded tumble 
fluid & tangible 
as breath 
or rain
there is no stream of tale or poem 
no manic observation 
or sensation to document 
upon a back of a magazine or captured whiteness 
my words have taken a holiday 
caught the two in the morning train 
hopped a flight 
to a secluded island off the Scottish coast 
of sea & cliff
heather &  heath 
here .... 
they are at peace 
in a quaint white cottage with a good fire, tea & cozy beds 
night skies are domed with the stars of a thousand songs 
and the sun teases warmth 
but delivers ease away from my hubristic juggled use 
away from the liquid pour & crafted will of my ordinary hours 
but ...
Spring is waking 
bringing green to the red bark of the japanese maple 
as hyancynith & crocus peek up from 
the dried straw-colored winter debris 
cranes are returning to the river 
today in the garden, 
Raised beds were cleaned 
dust & whiteness raked across the earth 
tidying & bending 
reaching & striving 
as the sun shone 
bright & brilliant upon my face 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

the road

funny how things come on
the opalescent compartment of soul suddenly shifting to amber
against the concrete dashboard
omnipresent darkness falling
soft rain falling
time collapsing
surrounded in the unmistakable scent of you
pressing pressing
clouded moons and no tomorrows

this spot of twilight gleaning
you.are. here.

with ....

Wednesday, March 23, 2016


i am ghost
transparent to all but a few
(seers or fools all)
replete with tambourine & crinoline
moving thru the alley lives of friends and strangers
pierced with perspective
upon the turning of seasons
little do they realize how vast my craft, how wild ....
little do they know the sweep of my blue illumination
carried here on wings tucked--hidden
to all
but a few....(seers & fools)
when words glaze my bones
find my feathered home
: seeing
i gasp
in the elixir'd
a Sun
i barely recall the name of:
: seen
this golden nest light

Monday, March 21, 2016

of wind

recycled words from sorrow's lips
replete with thundersnow & wine
darken the corners of this trip
no trace of trumpet vine …
ride the north wind
as long as you dare ….
lashed tight - eyes closed to the chill
push the luck to the shadowlands
fist raised to gravity's spill
flying - always the art of kings,
poets & gypsies blue
land ye soft upon fields of gold
escape lies north of you

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

March 14th

... of a day blue--cloud thick
gray--bird thick
stacked in rows across fields waking
calling calling to choir
               and plains
what silent pull alights them?
to water the color of vastness
easily lost in the river's tongue
ripple after ripple to shore
consumed by sky and pressing thunder far comes the night
        to illuminate eagle nest and night falling falling
circling t
hey come
straight and arrowed to land
one after one after sun sinks into brilliance
the sun
this night
as sound carries across the glass to bend the hearts
waiting ....
forged of winter and water's rhyme
danced in crimson shimmering
we become
as vast as gray birds
in this spot
of day's last breath

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

lamb to lion, moon to light, wrong to right

Upon a time . .
She was darkness tethered
unaware long ago she'd alchemized the chains
on an isle of truth
mazed by a field of wrong choices
lying to save something sane

porcelain broke
sorrowful circles
glimpses of light
treading life
ballast sought
grounded from flight
cement the cracks
and search for right

hunted as a fox to rabbits
desperation clings to bone & breath
lost to the grace
the grateful
living inside her head

rescue rides a dragon
awareness wakened by touch
surrender paid with contented cost
golden thread tenders much

recognition redirected
                  'til compassion for self is taught

so just saying;
the stones are heavy
throwing bleeds out the cut
with each tender toss
know that love always

Friday, March 4, 2016

of a march morning

paint me alabaster if you dare ....
feathered in grasses golden
i will stand solitary
and naked
fields laid smooth by northerly winds & tall white birds
add to me your meridian scars
         and raised to the sun
arms outstretched for crows & demons
paint me alabaster if you dare ....
far from crowds & circuses
far from pressed tenderness
as i hold tenderness between felt & fold
enough for a thousand lifetimes
noble patience comes the day
knowing rains & midnight to bind
paint me alabaster
i will wait for you
here ...

Monday, February 29, 2016

leap day

forgotten lavender drips from the cherry tree
blue jay steals the sun
with whistles
suddenly he stops
and all lies silent
wind stilled to thinning clouds of day
sitting long enough--quiet enough
i can hear the crocus rising
blue jay starts up again
chatter amongst the birds celebrates jet streams
sandhill cranes
come Spring
come ....

Tuesday, February 23, 2016


came undone in '79
winter day that started out fine
sweet soft tumbling outta the gray
no one day should end that way
tattered scars and flash of light
fear and sorrows bound up tight
nothing made much sense anymore
love walked out through the basement door
when bone is crushed by the hand of fate
when spirit sinks into the grave
when mind circles back to black
life never quite gets back on track
rise to challenge with poppy-seed lines
beat back blues with blood & sunshine
transcend to phoenix--transcend to new
cracked open to expose the violet-blue
sections chipped from flesh & soul
hardly noticed by those i know
forged the bars, built the cage
meadowlark trapped by yesterday's rage
years to miles to pieces of eight
mapped the course and stormed the gates
words and places and love untombed
diamonds & dust willow'd bloom
faced the fear, faced the lights
memories shape-shift of that night
find the truth, feel the sun
become one


snow moon

damsel dressed in fibers of vetiver
opalescent diode foliage-green shining
performs in solitude
the bark of nevermore
hold fast against my sternum 
your hand warms tender the fragility of
this unexpected illumination  
Keep it there ...
shelter the sorrow along with the falling
spark the weary lost bones 
shatter the ampule open 
smell our verdant delight
of this passage 
rest your hand there

It is home 

Monday, February 22, 2016


it may
seem like it

but i'm with him

be fooled by appearances
be blind to truth
tempted by
my strength to think i am other than
what you know

but i'm with him

ice melts
the river runs
cranes they come
flannel against skin
becomes more than i can bare
hold fast

always believed life would
buckets of fullness
richness unfurled
particles of brilliance
even in separation
even in darkness

i'm with him

waiting for the next hurrah!!
waiting for crocus to burst
content in the chaos
blessed by magic

i'm with him