January 12th
Sun on snow drifts that
Lean on denim skies show me
Deer tracks from last night


Grief is an ocean of memories
Some days
I can stand on the sand
and watch the day begin and end
with a sky of color
achingly beautiful
and traitorous
while shallow breath
makes me feel a thousand things
about still being here
still breathing
still not giving in to the urge
to dive in
and never come out –
When the tide is low
and I can sit peacefully
and watch
the seabirds ride the air
it almost feels like joy
could make its way back
And if I bring myself to the shoreline
in the dark of night
in person
or in dreams
the moon, without express permission
sends the water,
filled with your voice
and your smile
and you’re whole big life
up and over me again
and I have to brace against the pull
of that dark cold sweet nothing
where we swim together
in collected moments
of the life we knew
If you come to me
With your heavy heart
And your windblown thoughts
I can be the quiet listener who will
Hold your confusion
I’ll hold it up off your shoulders so you can get a full breath in and a little peace as you start to figure out
the next step in your journey
to whole and calm
Or I can be your guide if you tell me what you’ve packed in your duffle that you drag through life. You’ll need a swimsuit because we will be leaving the safe shore and diving deep.
We will be on the hunt for signs and turns that you followed and we will sit in discussion until something wiggles loose from the tight bundle of shame sticks that you keep like secret offerings.
You have used your finest ribbon to wrap those, as if they were the hallmark moments of your life and not the thousand times it all went perfectly and love and magic flew from your soul out into the world touching everyone who witnessed your glory.
You’ll go home with words and songs and a new map to navigate what lies ahead
So be ready
Tell me who you need me to be for you right now
This
Is why I came to this world
Right now
You only need ask
I am ready

THERE ARE SOME PEOPLE
THERE ARE SOME PEOPLE
WHO ARE LIVING PORTALS-
WIDE OPEN DOORWAYS
TO THE GREAT RIVER
OF ALL THINGS THAT FEED OUR SOULS
IT’S NOT THAT THEY TRAINED FOR THIS JOB
OR
EVEN ASPIRED TO BECOME THIS WAY
THEY WERE CHOSEN
BY SOME
WINGED BEING
HANDPICKED
TO STAND AT THE GATE
TO THE DIVINE
THEY HOLD THE DOOR OPEN
SO THE REST OF US CAN
WARM OUR HEARTS IN THE LIGHT
THAT BLAZES THROUGH THEM-
ILLUMINATING THE DARKNESS
YOU
WERE ONE OF THOSE PORTALS
A GATEKEEPER
AND WE
ARE ALL BETTER
FOR HAVING KNOWN YOU
by the time we met
i was already broken
a thousand pieces
scattered round the world
like so much garbage
among the detritus
were some damn fine things
like
shreds of hope
bouquets of trust
boxes of wonder
jars of light and joy
winds of change-
the same kind I’d already
weathered early on-
it pulled those pieces
off the laundry line
where i was airing things out
planning to put them back in use
after cleaning off the
lies and betrayals
i’m on the hunt now
tracking down the things
that used to be mine
welding them back to my heart
and breathing life into them again.
again.
again.
by the time we met
i was already broken.

Winds of Change
invisible breath comes
softly first
seen by petals dancing
gaining speed and
bending my deep rooted tree
to the breaking point
roaring down
like a runaway train
into my life
carrying away
everything
i do not have the courage
to let go of.
gone now –
all the reasons
excuses
sad procrastinations
and seance candles
lit to conjure
things long dead
i can not tear
my vision from
and on it’s leaving
in silence
sitting on dirt
i will grow new things
better things
watered
with my grief

Cosmic Detention or Contemplating the Universe Beneath a Dark Sky. And No, I’m Not High
Maybe-
the reason we haven’t had a recent visit from extraterrestrials
is because we just aren’t ready for them.
Maybe
this planet is a giant playpen
with high sides on our technology
so we won’t climb out
and stick our fingers
into the
Socket Of Creation
and break it
Maybe
we need a few more millenia
to winnow out our aggression
and our massive egos
before the Galactic Babysitters
will consider taking us
on a deep space field trip
Maybe
they already left behind
a whole lot of evidence of their earlier visits-
You know,
before humanity grew into
an out of control
raging
hormonal cluster of adolescents
who perpetuate the myths
that only males should rule the planet
and colors should be sorted into
keep
and
discard piles-
and myths like animals are food
and that one group’s religious superhero
could beat up another groups religious superhero
Maybe
many light years out
there’s a perimeter warning that reads:
RESTRICTED AREA;
INHABITANTS CANNOT BE TRUSTED TO MAKE GOOD CHOICES
They’re right you know.
We aren’t ready
So here we sit
drumming fingers on our desks
waiting for the door to open
that let’s us out of Cosmic Detention

I
am always
looking for angels
eye to eye
the familiar stranger passes
and dips his chin
to say-
yes
it’s me-
roadway leaves
whirl up before the car
turned from passing wings
reminder
we are safe today
Following the ambulance
in the predawn light
everywhere-
they are everywhere
if you’re looking for angels
