Wednesday, November 30, 2016


When resistance lies vanquished
once surrender unfolds like a lark upon your palm
groundlessness rises
as tempest
as leaves caught in the north wind
swirling clockwise to
morning's first light

Winter sits watching for the vulnerable
stinging with breath silver-blue
it felt so hollow
the allowing
the lack of concern
swirling clockwise to
afternoon's light

Love stands alone
needing naught but truth
rock steady against the stars
grounded in cloud formations
and constellations
dance to the wind & weather
dance to the sharpness of known things
swirling clockwise in
the waxing moon's night

come the stillness of a morning ….

Take my fingers one by one and hold them out
away from my small unremarkable palm
paper-chained lines stretched taunt
against the gravity of this first-quarter-pisces-moon
pull my hand up
away from my body
as high & as hard as you can go
i am struggling to maintain my balance
rocking, weaving
leaning away from
your force
leaning into the white river birch
that runs along my spine during the winter months
to the prime meridian line
the polar field
you ...
crashing colliding collapsing
your thumb stroking, pressing my heart-line
resistance maple-syruped, viscous and amber
as a 3º morning when you were 10 and the world was ripe
and everything was yours and home lay
in the possibility of discovering that you are greater than your surroundings
that folded into the veiled crevices of your soul
dwell dragons, orbs,
tilled soil and milo fields,
sugar beets,
the sound of drums and yellow moons,
snake-oil, moonshine,
tooled leather, and a stone-will,
kites, strings of courage,
mornings smelling of pancakes and dreams of sex
this morning ...
stars are still visible at 7:07 as the sun rises in a corona of
tangerine forgiveness
silent becomes the fear
easy comes the patience
knowing becomes the dance of connection
until the faint clear low of a cello is heard
the cellular structure of nucleotides and ocean tides
against the current of ordinary
while holding a blue-jean-royal flush
a fugitive silver-scarfed magician card from
a golden tarot deck
take my fingers
curl them tight underneath your velvet-zeppelin-hand
take the cards and toss them to the swan nebula
you four-fold-warrior-truth-seeker-knowledge-giver
into the urge to
take each finger
one by one and hold them out
hold them out
stretched taunt 
against the gravity of this first-quarter-pisces-moon
remarkable life

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

Monday, November 7, 2016


indigo dipped
forgotten fragility in buffalo flannel
tucked and tattered to the nines
I am awake now
eviscerated by Bosch dreams serpentined & threaded blue
Who was I before this day?
How did I relinquish myself to the whims of weather
and men...
Who was I before you?
Is there a before, or merely an after ... and
where is the river to our place behind love's door
indigo dipped
The wind is stilled for now
for now
Fuck the wind and the weight of grain and golden sun
I am born ruby apple delicious and
and empty
except for the particles of history and
Ah, the wind ...
put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day 
moments like these gleam with drala
Raining now ...
Miraculous how that changes

Sunday, November 6, 2016


PAINT me a picture of dragons & orbs
weaved of the blood and the pain we've absorbed
lacquered in memory of fire & air
curled up fast asleep alone in his liar
persian & azure -  scales tarnished by time
smelling of nectar, snow & turkish key-lime
i stand at the entrance opal with shine

paint me a picture of loss & regret
the heart of a dragon will never forget
impaled by a brushstroke
twilight lingers crimson in fires smoke
as hearts synch in three-quarter time
this ancient twining answers all rhymes
and the cord transforms into silver-quartz-fine

paint me a picture consistent & true
of dragons & hollows & magic of blue
who sees the dragon & who sees the soul
transparent to all as trust is the toll
redemption is found in the hidden cracks of light
there in the twilight, we hold & we fight
to open in wonder & dance with delight

paint me a picture of dragons & orbs
weaved of story . . all light we absorb