missive

i was just a moment ago, brought immediately back
into breathing early fall,
late night New Mexico sky.
Ojo Caliente. mineralized.

inhale exhale.

clear view of more stars than anyone in a city ever sees.
the cliche of crackling, yet true sound, of a fire gifting warmth.
we sat in circle. alaska, california, texas, ireland, italy, abiqui, los lunas

always do i want you to feel, my gratitude,
for the gift of that memory.
brought forth
from rounding the bend with aspens' seasonal change.

exhale inhale.

earth sharing her ancient wisdom.
solar return journeying with a soul needing healing.
the miles our lives,
have traveled together.
good medicine.
worthy of those front porch rockers,
we joked about in a cafeteria,
plaid clad.

voices still raised in strummed joy

old journal page

base desire seized me.  hunger made me impatient.
the root fear of this being that of missing out. 

so the question arises---what am i projecting 
that i think i am missing out on 
(or not getting my fair share of)? 
yet being impatient, i live not in perfect present moment, 
only in an imagined one.

(reminder to self:   i have and am, all i require and desire in this moment. i choose this instant to be grateful)

the Source was, and still is, itself.  born from itself without expectation.
---and then, i allowed in expectation; 

learning of its withdrawal and believing myself unworthy. 
(ah, but how the heart is buoyant and elastic)

how sweet the beginning when i did not require reciprocity.  how precious my secret longing. how unexpected it might be the same for you. how wrong of me to believe we agreed on its definition.

how unwise was i at fourteen, at twenty-three, twenty-seven?

and when you withdrew, whether ordered to or not, 
only you know the truth.

so then, heart breaks.  a path lay before me.  
ego entered. ego experienced separation. 
ego wanted me to believe existence required you as the form.  
the breaking open of my heart led to this road of return.  
i am come full circle, yet wider.

you will never read these words, though you inspired them.

do we withdraw our love because we fear its being caged?  
do we withdraw our love believing another will be hurt 
if we love them not exclusively?  
do we reject love for the same reasons?

we do many things in the name of love.  
how do we know that what we do is a name, Love, would choose for itself?

if loving be the highest ideal, then why choose a love less than ideal?  
love from the place you want to experience it.

Love changes form when we choose to form its change.  we choose it, it chooses us. 
we choose from "what if" as though we are trying on the emperor's new clothes.  
we sometimes choose to believe the unreal as truth.  
we choose true equal love from the same place.

how often do we rush into a form of love thinking it will complete us, fill us, shield us?  
how often do we grant that which is only potential, the fullness of response?

is it folly or a heart courageous with trust?  
do we love only from that place where we receive?  from what we pretend 
Love will bring to us?  
how many of us place restrictions, conditions and pictures on Love?  
how many of us allow others to define it?

we calculate it and measure it.  
we assign it either credit or debit status, viewing it as liability or asset.  
we treasure it too lightly if it is offered too easily.  
we speak of winning love as if it's a prize or reward. 
we train for it as if it were a gold, silver or bronze medal  competition.  
we act boldly on the belief that love is a better than less than, absolute.

it's not love we desire---it's power we seek.  
we use love to hide our hungry hearts.

if hope springs eternal as some say, then love is a spring, a well.  
i say drink from it daily.  drink it in often.  
drink it with every breath and in every moment.  
drink it purely, without greed or fear,  and it will purify.  let it be motive power.

love stamps all accounts balanced and paid in full.  
love's account is always an open one, ready for deposit , 
so i say this, dear emperor:

           be you

           be whoever you imagine you are,

           be whoever you seek to be, then

           be more.

may you awaken to the places and spaces where you accepted another's truth according to their dictates.  thank them. love them. 

letting  Love be your guide in all matters, in all times.

Be Love, for that is what you are.  Love erases all borders in all realms.

~autumn 2003

*************************************************

attrape la lumiere

as i exhale time
into these last autumnal shadows,
imperceptibly draping themselves 
across winter ready violets,
wind hums its holy solstice song,
underscoring heaven's circular dance.
our patterns seamlessly refashioned, 
from an ever present past.

Rift Valley

Between one world and another,
Lies the rift and the increasing separation,
As the plates of one mind slip away
From the plates of another mind.
I do not question which way I am to go,
But call to my heart to act on the decision made
To follow the soul
Or I will be split apart too,
As so many are,
Between violence
And Beauty.
The violent demands of our everyday life
And the strange beauty of Spirit afar.
I must choose Beauty
No matter the cost in this life.
I must choose and leap
Across the widening valley;
We cannot rest between.
Leap!
Ah Beauty! Receive me in your open arms. 

~Deena Metzger 

emerald view

vigilant sentry,
scans from cavern's entry,
veiling worth.

longing, fragrant as incense
heats desire waiting in wings.

quartz power source
shades scorpionic passion.

taos hymn

i awaken to a world,

wet.

a moon day giving down

her moon tears;

laughing,

cleansing,

healing hurts

via fluid strokes.

i   s t r e t c h

to silent strains.

pulse

pulse

pulse

languid, loose-limbed.

i lie warm spooned.

a moon's trail of slow mapping.

ritual trek across route of shared sighs.

a moon day consummated:

intersections consecrated.

latitude and longitude of limnity,

afloat in the current of life.

your hands, my tongue:

stilled breaths counting rhythms of

electrical beat

beat

beat

heat,

radiant heat 
inside on this

cold wet,

moon teared morn

borne along with other lovers in time,

held in silken suspension

by silver tresses of a moon day mane.

caught, not fastened,

i croon lullabies of satiation.

soft, feathery, light licks.

moon day maid up to her old tricks.

our lady of leisure

blankets this magical moment,

shedding her moon teared smiles,

giving down secrets of wet joy wiles.

i am she

as you are me.
drop to wave,

swells rise

and i taste once more

meanings in moon day murmurs.

your thighs

my whispers.

i gift this day to you,

my moon day mister.

September 1989

pied piper

Kokopelli,
Sacred Seed

Kokopelli
calls to open.

Corn Maidens:
eager buds
honor gifted
in being chosen.

Kokopelli,
Strengthening Reed

Kokopelli
speaks for vision.

Young Braves:
centered inside,
counting coup,
courage on mission.

Kokopelli,
Wisdom Song

Kokopelli
flutes the ancestors.

Elder Chiefs' circle
straightened firm,
Old Ones' stories
messaged in bones.

Kokopelli,
Sirens Song

Kokopelli
plays down rain.
tickling
sticky thigh memories
among Murder of Crones.

Kokopelli,
Sacred Scamp

Calls you to listen,
when Coyote pads land
and Raven scopes air.

Feel pulse of mirth?
Kokopelli is there.

Ask for melody,
lilting laugh
or note rung clear.

Payment? A smiling heart.
Kokopelli will appear.

consider yourself at home

i have met the artful dodger.

he's now two score and best boy capped.

he traded pocketing wallets for splicing stories

or hustling hearts he might wear as pendants,
one eye toward balancing scales.

charm armed, this mossy upturned gem.

his tribe of lost boys, still a congregation unseen.

fringe dweller mastery, comes hard earned.

on hard streets, knocking hard, from hard choices.

though dodger's still feral,
lapidary and library smoothed broken edges.

hawk sight wed to a water rat's adventurous verve.

kwan yin's smile rained gently upon his path.

he looked up one day and decided to follow.

medicina libelula medicina coruskone

down and dirty again

at the age of five, i plundered our garden of rocks and stones, enlisting help to lift extra large ones.  i loaded them into my wagon and proceeded to canvas the neighbors, regaling them with the benefits of my selections as natural art for their front or backyards.  if i encountered reluctance, i brought to their attention, the added feature of my wares being great doorstops or paper weights.  i sold out of inventory.

while enrolled in a master gardeners course, i was introduced to a multitude of seed catalogues.  i purchased from many of them.  
i found one that expanded my garden and landscape, both inner and outer.  

my acre was home to grape vines, raspberries, blackberries, apple trees, oaks, russian olives, scotch pines, pinons, cottonwoods and 48 rosebushes.  my tables, culinary, decorative and therapeutic, include varietals in lavenders, manzanitas, japanese honeysuckles, soapworts, fennels, sorrels, alliums, basils, yerba de la negritas, thistles, flaxes, melons, tomatoes, gentians, borages, salvias, morning glories, mallows, edible flowers, native grains, scarlet pimpernel, peppers, zucchinis and all manner of vegetables, common and rare. 

in the beginning, for herbs, i bought the most from a grower in canada.  i attest to the quality of their products.

www.richters.com

here are some others i grew:


lion's tail for hypertension, headaches and digestive imbalances
lovage is early spring bloomer and has celery flavour
silver queen wormwood stimulates appetite
witch hazel is anti-imflammatory
mongolian yarrow reduces stomach acidity 


the sagest suggestions i make towards cultivating your own garden of eden are these: become a sponge at the feet of the elders in your area, soaking up experiential wisdom.  volunteer in a community garden.  make friends with your neighbors, asking for cuttings.  visit your local library or independent bookstore for a good reference primer.  notice, log or take photos of your micro climate (sunlight movement, compass directions).  dream and draw.

windowsills, patio containers or planter box gardens can deliver a hearty yield of color, fragrance and tastiness just as much as an acre.  apartment farming is easy.  do a little prep work and reap the bounty. 

animal planet

6 Ways You Can Help Animals In Japan

03/16/2011

Watching the tragedy unfold in Japan this week has been absolutely devastating and many of us may feel helpless as we sit in the comfort of our homes as tsunami victims are dealing with unimaginable challenges. While the focus in Japan is on helping people affected by the divesting earthquake and Tsunami, many people are also concerned about animals affected by the disaster. Here are six ways you can help, courtesy of The Pet Dish.
1) Donate to Japan Earthquake Animal Rescue and Support. A coalition of three groups - HEART-Tokushima, Animal Garden Niigata and Japan Cat Network, their intention is to keep animal rescue on the agenda, provide shelter space and coordinate some earthquake/tsunami animal rescues.
2) Animal Refuge Kansai is also accepting donations. The organization says they have facilities in place and a team of experienced staff able to deal with traumatized animals.
3) The Search Dog Foundation has deployed teams to Japan to help search for victims.
4) Donate to Humane Society International. They have deployed disaster response staff to the region and reached out to Japanese partner organizations involved with animal care and rescue to identify where and how best to provide emergency support and veterinary attention.
5) World Vets are preparing the deployment of a first-responder team to carry out an "on the ground" assessment and provide initial aid. 
6) Join the Japan Earthquake Animal Rescue and Support Facebook page to support animal rescue efforts. 

私達間、分離無し

march 11th.     311: aka, citizen contact number.  

upon leaving in the morning, i glanced up as i always do, to espy a chem trail "X" stretched sky wide.  this occurred at every errand stop i made.  different "x" at every turn.  a continual reminder that no matter how you looked at it, that this day, this moment, made a mark. 

 
friday, march 11.  a day that beckoned I merge my breath with local lake, where an increasing number of cormorants, ranged themselves in a covered-wagon circle, perhaps to fend off the four seagulls gliding in to drop and stand.  


sharing a fishing pier with courting mallards, i was roused from sitting meditation by a peckish resident coot, needing to examine what might be underfoot.  he, on eternal snack time quest.


i set off walking.  at a curve on the path, i hear call of dear friend. 

while a never before witnessed white hawk, spiraled close above,  an elfin-eyed gamine of about three years, stopped to chat and share smile.   

in shamrock green hoodie with the words, "super hero" stamped on it, she confided her name was, "danica."  together we watched a white dove cross underneath hawk orbit. soon she skipped off, only to return, presenting me with fist gripped stems of yellow clover. 

this happened at 3:11pm.




* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

danica means morning star.
clover is the flower of Miyagi Prefecture

hearty cup liquid love

i awake to rain. 

i awake to rain with hummingbird outside my window. 
she's busy busy busy, focused on nest building at oak branch edge.  
above her a laggard crow caws, "wait up," to early rising buddies.

i love to walk in rain. 

returning from school, the house wore a favorite and well loved fragrance.  savory, bay, nutmeg, oregano and garlic mingled in the hissing song of pressure cooker.  inside it garden veggies, chicken broth and conchigliette were slowly reaching desired softness.  the oven warm, was waiting to welcome poppy seed muffins destined to drip fresh butter.

i love rainy days.

billet deux

from my father's side, one stream of ancestral lineage.

how delicious must have been the dreams, of those who a century or two later, slept in rooms infused with energetic imprints of  giacomo, giustiniana or veronica franco.

dream sharer

have we met before?  
you are very familiar.  
oh yes, i remember.
twas in a library.
learners in the halls of infinity, speed reading.
glancing over my shoulder,
i heard your fingers memorize old photographs.  
while comfortably sunk into chintz clad wingback,
nose burrowed in leather bound tome.  
i stood on tiptoe, reaching across ancient oak shelves.

 

tick tock

"harumph. thought i said no parties."

dot dot dot dot...dot dot

the darlings had nana. 

i had desiree.

many an hour spent belly flat

on damp warm lawn.

i matching bite for bite,

sharing luncheon communion.

our menu?

me, pbj squares  

she, rose petals

and  for both,

honeysuckle nectar as chaser.

trilling canaries

in grandparent's aviary

were background soundtrack.

i confided and listened,

while we discussed life.

inner morse code 

of her wisdom,

i heard today

on faint frequency 

yet growing louder.

radiance

two from a series of drawings:  spring 2010

defragmenting

one word one note

duettino la luna

tumbler click

unshackled
unbound
tomb expels
womb releases

69 days
incubated.
33 newborn
this morn

invitation

Vito's Ruby Tuesday

going going

Shamans in Chanel *

bi-annual peacock gathering 
of blue heron nations.

chiffon feathers clickety clackety stepping.

stillettoed catwalkers vision questing.

bodice branding,

khaki chanting,

aho miyake. 
pow-wow of printemps






* copyrighted

remembrance.

on this date 2005, i met a widow of a 9/11 firefighter.  

he was outside on the street preparing
to enter the second tower with his unit, 
when it collapsed.  

he left three children.

in sacred space, we two, strangers til then,
united as women have since the beginning.

i am privileged to have served,
guided by Spirit to hold circle for tears, 
laughter and  forgiveness to merge.

my client brought the lesson of grace, strength and compassion,
in the form of herself through both singular and collective story.


today, i honor courage inside each human heart.
  
once more, an offering of love 
for the gift of that morning, wherever she is. 
i ask that it ripple outward as gentle breeze, cleansing. 

Triptych

monday, august 29, 1966
candlestick park

 here

the cyrkle bounces
a red rubber ball.
bobby hebb's sunny
smiling, gives her all.


i am sitting at my first concert.
right field seats.
a birthday present from
my sister, who is on my left.
energetically electric,
there's volcanic excitement
primed to erupt.

hardly daring to breathe,
i instruct self
to sear each moment into Soul,
for this may never come again.

little did i suspect
how correct,
i'd be.

and then,

the announcer
drowned by
a tsunami of sound,
wildly heralds

four brunette british boys,
magically appearing from dugout,
bound for pitcher's mound.

i enter tessellated space:
time accelerating
while ceasing to exist.

i do not banshee scream
hyperventilate,
nor channel maenad.

silent,
i weep from immense
overflowing
heart presence.

i am stretched to encompass
the joy of all creation.

i am her yet again,
here,
there,
everywhere,
every way.

i do not long for yesterday.
when it comes suddenly,
i celebrate it,
imbibe it
relish it,
thanking it
to seed it,
so both power
and summer of love
bloom as new tunes,
this day.



* * * * * * * *



there

november 2009

i am a house guest.
after one dinner, the host vibrates.
eager is he to share concert cd,
prize in his memorabilia collection.
an event he took part in.
startled were my ears,
once again hearing
44 musical minutes, 11 songs.
all i need now is a spritz of
yardley of london
and my jean shrimpton bangs.




* * * * * * * *

august 2009
everywhere

hitting the road as vagabond,
on way to where Spirit wants me next,
i entrust one of my prized possessions
to childhood friends for safekeeping.
now hanging out with janis,
procul harem and grateful dead
from winterland,
is famed beatles poster
san francisco

 
















http://www.beatlesbible.com/1966/08/29/candlestick-park-san-francisco-final-concert/

telerotica

Humid August, mid 1980's.

Full moon companions sleep.

In bed not my own,

caretaker for neighbor,

Curtained 'neath sheers 
while naked on silk,

i lay aside window

open to sky.

Telephone disturbs slumber

and I stumble,

to silence its jangling.

A moonshine soaked, cheroot smoked

vocal growl penetrates eardrum.

Curious is he, this stranger,

as to my identity,

for it is his sister's

speaking he’s seeking.

Once again

pillow propped,

blue shadows

mimic old film projector

flickering through room.

Lunar hour's past midnight,

entering realm of perception

as heightened skin vibrations.

Aroused, another dimension's

Dreamtime made physical.

This masculine timbre

lures me gently,

probing with playful questions.

I drawl responses

as he caresses with story.

A writer, he exposes me,

to Rex, tale of The Reflex Alligator.

I counter pointedly

via banter, thrust and parry.

Edging in closer,

pausing to withdraw,

center is infiltrated.

Throaty chuckles

braille curved surfaces.

Powering this night is

ancient enchantress.

What remains unnamed

is mutual, amid

pulsing liquid discourse.

Masked dancers.

Wordplay as foreplay.

From mouth to ear,

pleasure is mined.

~March 24, 2004

Glanced Upon A Spiral Bend

love surrounds him.
inspiration circles him.
passion eddies about him.
adoration, speculation
and angry envy rings him.
people pressing for small measure
of moth to light attention, orbit him.
life itself, radiates from him.
he, a force of nature,
this Pan-man parhelion,
manifesting it all this way,
natural and preter.

defender lad
of Sherwood's men.
maestro of million miles,
no advantage refused,
battleground scoped,
belly not sighed into.
yea, little is there not tasted,
tried, tale told or
multiverse doorway
stepped into.
Destiny writ cosmos
upon this mortal man,
divine hidden within and among.
pipes call to his soul,
this restless vine of fair Albion,
gentle with silent moon's morning dew.
hearkening sideways,
rose arbors appear,
shown by ogham's
counterclockwise seer.




september 2009

lazarus heart

i lost a boy.
i lost the boy,
and i was lost,
believing
i was forgot.

then he came back.
came back
to lose himself within me,
to soothe himself,
within me.
again,
he left
and i was lost.

still,
he came back,
yet forgot he came back,
and we were lost
to each other.

then this boy,
this boy i thought
l o s t,
lost his life
only to be brought back.

many were the dreams
in which i heard him call me,
many were the dreams.
yet,
believing i was forgot,
i did not answer,
until
the day,
i came back
for myself.

i came back,
to remember,
that what i'd believed lost,
was found,
across time,
across space
and even
from cross death.

memory is miracle,
and we are never lost.


july 26, 2004

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **


adieu, avoir, arrivederci:
(a birthday present)


life and light calls.
i must needs take this
heart shadow,
bathing its erasure
in midday sun.

seven years
in the boneyard,
seasons passing.
odin's winds swirling,
muffled inviting laughter,
while miss havisham's dust
clad me in gray veil.

a husband came and was left,
discarded for fey illusions,
a triangular dance eons old.
dark night's thick fog
whispered lies,
until this morn,
this mourn,
this morn's
declarative no more.
for,
living desires me.

melody stirs soul,
beckoning me,
backstep cross
threshhold
of hades' queen


hear now beside me,
embraced harmony.
cemetery gate clangs
as recess bell releases,
oscillating new song,
new courage,
new world.

bearing witness

the bees are leaving
my apian friends are going
the way of the anasazi.
the bees are leaving.

i pray they found a new earth
of blossom inviting
and colony thriving.

my mother is bleeding,
knife wound in her belly.
my mother is bleeding.

i pray an opening in the
fabric of time
where she may replicate
without malicious children.

i pray she awakens,
as if from bad dream,
to find we were never here.

june's i do

left right
in out
bread butter
mouth ear
pen ink
knife fork
lock key
nut bolt
nail polish
cup saucer
plug socket
salt pepper
match flame
needle thread
pencil sharpener
bottle corkscrew
magnet compass
heaven hell
sunrise moonglow
violin bow
bell chime
jasmine scent
flower bee
you me
all one

When April Showers Come Along

sliver of time

thrums shiver of joy.

love song heard,
heart note attuned
striking chord's
flash of illumination.

Divine bridges
river's banks.

sans reason,
contagious rhyme
measured a pulse.

was it yours or mine?

Do Ghosts Leave Footprints

Ghost men have danced throughout my life.
Phantom men waltzing on earthen floor.
I knew them not, though they were there.
I have photos.
Who were these transient, transparent ones?
These creatures of shadow weight whose names I knew.
Rarely fully material,
their interest in me minimal.
Grandfather. Father. Uncles. Lovers.
I knew them not, though they were there.
Envisioned here are my ghosts remembered.
Were unrealized dreams, cached deeply inner space?
What lost boys did you grieve?
Ghost men, where did you hide while alive?
Twilight men, drifting towards slumber,
your sentry duties fulfilled,
thus spanning a Great Wheel's turning.
Ghost men, my own men.
Did you register my curiosity
or only see me as one?
Ghost men, gone long ago gone.
Spectral men dimming at edges.
Ghost men, first men, you were my introduction.
What did you neglect to share?
My recall's fading.
Wait. Wait. Don't go.
Did you sense? Did you know?
Enchanted and beloved Ghost men,
in sleep and sepia,
do I see you still,
fleshed again.

November 2003

neighbors

weft and weave

last week,
ebony feline
strolled by 
through my early a.m.
botanical meandering.
owner of crossing paths was she.

day ago,
woodpecker suggested
I engage unmet neighbor,
who could not see her drumming.
"point me out up here," i hear.
there, atop telephone pole,
tapping tapping tapping
creating smiles among we three.

this morn, on walk,
was brought to bend
by hatchling swallowtail,
shivering
in miserable drizzle.
hitched a ride
it did,
on my finger.
resting now
on purple petunia,
til cleared for lift off.

with six you get hexagon

they are at moment,
fizzing bubbles,
champagne style.
these carl sagan,
'billions and billions'
heart sparklings,
circling round.
i sip their ebb flow.
which one shall be
the wave i catch to surf,
i leave to La Luna's
metallic illumination.

answer for a query

elementals

breezing, air whispers.
a dancing caress of invisible invites.
yes, strand slides upon cheek from tease.
'what?' it asks.
'you define yourself as chignon?'
it smiles at the helmet headed,
lacquered in defense against.

gull song lulls,
i step among broken open,
ground by shifting edges
me and blake share knowing.
glass birthed from heat,
a lightening strike quenched
in liquid salt.
rhythm in pulse,
in repetition
in endurance,
in foam dissolving
into
faceted light.



i took to the open road last august. like salome shedding veils,
i departed desert sands ruthless fire, returning to sirens' call
of craggy coastlines, hydrated beach and redwood elders.

spirals, blues and watercolors are one medium singing
themselves through me currently.

the words are there, standing just off stage awaiting their cue.
fingers are again itching for faces and clay.

as for winged victory, i know her well.
gold miner. gold worker.
i found, i fashioned."