Rooted naked in the grass

tree beard

watching children get on the bus
feeling little crawlers poking roots
planted for a while
there is not mulch to do
a nest needs scratching
let the wind take care of it
the sharp pruning against the sap
pushing up sidewalks how about the 73 Buick
she gave a kiss one night
a bolt riding on rubber
came to say hello
 the fruit dropped at once she was smashed
we were wrapped up fermenting and pulled apart
rooted naked in the grass
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Shards

Shardes

The shards
made of pulp
made of wood
made of die
from
sticky fingers
the space between is nothing to avoid
tears and tears when colors 
stop talking in composition
once a sheet now
composed resting rigid
stretching meaning and reflections
 
 

Sitting

sitting
Sitting
the moment the body is still
a racquet ball bounces in the chambers of the brain
voices crash and compete for the stage
a yearning to get busy tugs
finish you need to start it
the hamster wheel squeaks  
the rampage slows
flashing images lessen
stillness dips its toe in the pool
quicksilver knowingness reflecting and moving depth
immersion and emergence shape a new rest
emotions start to be watched
what is watched starts to be watched
the room expands the tiniest sounds seem far away
the blood can be heard flowing
little bells in the distance compete with the refrigerator motor
the visual spectrum dims
imagination takes its pallet out
painting new ideas
the earth falls away
traveling in volcanoes  black holes  parts of cells
sometimes animals and angels visit with wings and legs close to the ground
all at once
in all directions
in all times
in no times
calmness
it is all
ok
everything is ok
acceptance
creation
smiling on the carpet
the wheel has slowed 
the projects don’t seem frustrating
there are new perspectives appreciations
spilling into the dream

Wash in its sweet circulation

laying in the river
 
mountain forest plain or sea
reef bark sand or snow
water and bones iron too
cloud ideas great majesty blow
our feet our hands our belly our heart our throat our sex our head our sight
ice pole magnets fire and stretch the jags of ignition across sky
hear and breath it sees
stretching around the light
we dance on this drum
wash in its sweet circulation
with falls grass hips and teeth
where we are born and create
our body our temple our planet our home
 

The Last Poem

IMG_2609
 
The Last poem
 
What if today was the last poem
and all you could write about squeezed into a few words
to leave some meaning behind for those not dancing in your mind
what words of wisdom would you try to express
that it’s about connections
that even when you are gone they will still be here
that it’s the time we spend with each other
it’s how present we are
it is not the flirting nervousness
or anxiety that we feel dancing with us
but when we feel
we are there
that counts the most
that life is not how great you are but that you are
realizing your potential in each situation to help somebody
to lift them up and lift you’re self up at the same time
defying gravity

spent sunflower

couch

If I sit in this comfy chair long enough
will it all go away
like the cast offs in this store
geared up to be sold again
There is a song playing on the speakers
proving rhythm
guitars saying something about a soul
the couch in front
is outstanding orange geometry with purple and blue
could wild horses pull me out of this cushion
sunk in like a spent sunflower

how about a hug

IMG_1490
How about a hug
I am waiting for you
to come close and feel my love
hold me rooted to the sky and earth above
how about a hug  
we can play embrace
how about a hug
it is OK
I can wait no need to go on a limb ill be here
Climb me rest in my gaze
I can pull your trunk while you hang around
hammock me
 we can breathe with a swinging breeze
how about a hug

in-between

vase whale
in-between
 
hold a fist as hard as you can
squeeze it tighter and hold
for a week for a month for a lifetime
keep holding what else can a fist do
is there a need for breath
squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can
feel your temples throb
images are echoing on the screen
there is a forest of kelp in the sea
it sways with salt and water
seals glide between the kelp curtains chasing squid
there are whale sounds finding space
the hands begin to bloom an open between the fingers
a first breath in the womb
inside the kelp inside the squid inside the seal inside the whale in-between
your real eyes begin to open to an inky vastness
a faint thump calls
come to me come to me come to me come to me
there is enough in the silence in-between
for the birth of gravity
for the birth of light
in-between in-between

Take me home

Jean by a window

Take me home

we share thanksgiving

and feel whole again

Take me home

things are dissolving

the current and old cast members

sharing the stage

take me home

Let me smell my mother’s dress

that pillow case with cartoons on it

a song from  72

The first time ever I saw your face

take me home

behind the curtain

light and knowing become one

balance is equal to terrain

and tobacco smoke can dance with flying forks