Wednesday, December 31, 2014

to write the song.....

I sense it,

   treading lightly,

      poised on toes of dust.

Shadowed fingers
      reaching for my shoulder.

A charcoal sketch,


It is memory.

A squeeze, a pinch, a caress.

There to remind me, that all life

                                       is a ticking clock.

And each tick

A still life,

A memory.

a spirit rose, and it is mine.

…and through that looking glass,
       Through that tunnel,
And through that fear
 And doubt,
       a spirit arose.
And it was mine.
Around me wove it’s surety
  Surround me,  lift me up
          it did.
And from this fear, this doubt
          came a rising up.
Around, it swirled
                     until I saw
and knew.
That I would rise, and I would live
                                         And seek.
And tomorrow is no longer a future thing,
    But instead it is today.
   and I have opened the door,
               and I have stepped over the threshold.
I am here.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

societal ambiguity

my deep down heart is confused and bruised. the tenuous veil of civility that evidently hid a grinding, mean spirited cancer that weaves its tentacles throughout american society has fallen and we discover the real alien, the one who lives next door, or down the street, or across town, and whose goal has always been the de-struction of the illusive american dream. brotherhood, open, accepting arms, a place where anyone has the opportunity to succeed. illusion. delusion. illusory invention. designed to keep the natives appeased. the veil has fallen. it is exposed, and we of kind heart are gut punched.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Response to Amy Ferris re: suicide

 I feel the pressure of your shoulder, leaning into mine. The gentle heat, the perceived light. The true vibrations. The truth. I sit with eyes closed, limbs tightly wound, head down, mind roiling; and your words, your presence, bring me back to my own truth. My circle reconnects and suddenly I remember sunshine. 

Thursday, May 15, 2014



We are spirals
floating freely
like dust motes
in sunbeams.We are spirals

Breezes flow
the spirals
some fast,
some slow.

Some sparkle
some drift
out of view.
We are at once
and old.


We are all spirals
some drift
some spin

yet apart.
some drift,
some spin.