Mocking Bird's Reverie

No matter where
You write your truth
I will
Read it

Whether it be on cave walls
Or in pyramid depths
Or  on earth
With stick and stone
I will
Read it

Whether it be on napkin
Crunched beneath the table
I will crawl down and
Read it

I will read it
When you desperately
Want that it
Be heard

But should you not be ready
To unveil it like art work
Awaiting completion
I will wait

Or if it is like a birthday
Wish
Blown out into the dimming light
And you know the only way
That it may come true
Is to seal your lips tight

I will respect that too.

But should it come

On a mockingbird's wing
Who awakes me
In the middle of the night

Or if you drum it
On earth with your prayers
At dawn

I will sense it

If you bless the water
I will read it in the glimmering
Light of sun on water
And see what you have transcribed on the
Flow of life

I will listen because you are
And always will be my
Mother, brother sister, father, child of mine

I will never stop
Listening,
For to stop would be like
Closing my eyes
Shutting my ears
Refusing to move

For you are all a part of me
Sea
Wind
Fire of the sun
Leaf falling
Back aching
Heart breaking

Root of
My life
Tree in winter, summer, spring

And I am you
And you are me
I am listening

And now that you have
Sung to me
Drummed to me
Prayed with me

I will forever be listening
To where and when and how
You speak to me

Under the covers
I will be there
Looking at the night  sky
I will be there
Singing to the morning birds
I will be there
And running on seedlings underfoot
I will be there

For I could be no where else

And I know you have read
The waves at the shore
The tea leaves in my hand
The tarot card I drew from a deck
Of fools and knaves
For you are me

Whenever we forget this
And do not hear our unique
Contribution to the chorus of life
From stick banging on earth
To candle quiet in wish making

May we remember
Bum bum, bum bum,
Bum bum.

ame

April 4, 2011

Poems from the Chi Field

May I open not to that which is broken?

May I instead open to that which is reforming?

Unveiling Your Organs

Do not go to sleep

In the middle of the night

Awaken to all that lies hidden 

In your belly and your lungs

Waiting to breathe

Do not go to sleep

Exhale

Expanding in the night

Into all that stays quiet

Like a child hidden behind a tree

Waiting for their name to be

Called out in the park 

Under full moon and kicked cans

Do not go to sleep

When the body twists and turns

And undulates your spine open

And uncoils your wrists 

From where you are off hiding secrets

Of hesitation to raise up your hand

And scream out

I too have anger

And fear twisted 

Inside the grace of my hands

Holding back from my own divine connection

To all that I was born 

Already knowing

How to love

If you would also

Touch me

Knowing that which I do not yet know

Within the sinew of my bones and joints and limbs 

That when I stretch out to the world 

The world stretches back 

Waiting to welcome

a me

Walking Meditation

The union of

Fly on screen

Leaf falling

Bird alighting

Cloud floating

Hilltop rolling

Blackbird becoming two

I entering it all

Gently opening to being

Tree with fallen leaf

Sky with cloud of white to charcoal grey

Hill with gentle flowing edges

a me

Morning Reverie

It is morning in America

The rain falls lightly

But the wind blows with forbearance

That within the storm

We are all about to end our slumber

Or deepen into its depths

Rocked in the cradle of life

Knowing we are home in sun and rain and wind

Knowing we are one America

United not by what we consume

But by what we give 

And in return receive from one another's blessings

United not in what we produce

But in honoring earth for what it can sustain

A life worth living free of grasping

Free of fear

United not by our singular purpose  to export and profit 

But by the diversity of our voices rising up in song and rhyme and rap

Our voices becoming a chorus of delight. 

Delight delightful interconnection, inner harmony

 a me

Liquid Light 

(Titled by Marina Illich)

It's time

To receive the light

To be the light

Share the light

Like the light of the sun it was never meant to be held

Bought, sold or traded

It was meant to warm the heart

Inspire the seeds to grow

Our frozenness to melt

Our rivers to flow

And rain down on us

It's time to hear the ancient bone’s horn

To lay down our arms

Pick up the gift that we are

And be present to all that may wish to carry it farther on the path

To the all beings who thirst for forgiveness, love, an end to sorrow

You are not meant to put it in your pocket like a lightening bug to die

You are meant  to call out alle alle um come free 

And see who comes out from hiding to touch the tree, 

The elemental ancient wisdom within tree and soul

And  Zhineng qi gong

You may do this quietly like gentle rain falling on dry soil 

Or loudly by knocking on the door of donor and doctor and dear ones 

Who wish to hear the call to freedom

The time is now

The present moment

When you feel called

To share your presence

Your shining gift of light within

And light about

The world does not need protection

The type created out of grasping and holding on for dear life 

It needs suuport as do you and I and infant child 

And doe and dying lizard crushed on the path

Do not speak falsely

Nether loose your voice to a prescription writen by another

But please for you and I 

And the animals of the rain forest, sahara and mountain peak

Speak you healing

Sing our your love

Dance your unfolding wisdom

And come home

To share the complexity of all that we are 

And all that we are becoming in one shared embrace.


a me




Non Believer's Miracle

You say you never step foot in a temple or church
Yet isn’t that a shell you are holding listening for the sea?
Isn’t it a temple you place hand to ear to heart?
And is the smile of recognition of 
Hollow sound of coral shell shining white
Not a miracle?
And when you watch the waves turn and pound back in
Noticing your heart swelling and breath deepening
This which has resonance within you
What do you call it?

ame

The Point There is no arriving at your destination The point changes based on where you look And what you ask of it It has no preference for it is Always before you But should you look to the side                                                    It will be there It is almost nothing And it is everything Or of it everything might be born It is you and more than you You of course are more than you You are one with all points of the universe Your point of view is not the point of view But informs it The point informs you too It is ever changing yet still There are no seven steps to the point But back and forth and up and down and round And round and round will do You might start or end there Or anywhere to arrive at the beginning again If it were otherwise the point would have Already arrived at its destination And the game would be over No more dice to toss onto the plane No longer any to cherish For what they might foretell No more jokers or Queens No more point to pull another card and see The brush of wind Or breath of sea It would always be the card you wanted Before you dreamed the one you never knew. by a me Mocking Bird's Reverie No matter where You write your truth I will Read it Whether it be on cave walls Or in pyramid depths Or  on earth With stick and stone I will Read it Whether it be on napkin Crunched beneath the table I will crawl down and Read it I will read it When you desperately Want that it Be heard But should you not be ready To unveil it like art work Awaiting completion I will wait Or if it is like a birthday Wish Blown out into the dimming light And you know the only way That it may come true Is to seal your lips tight I will respect that too. But should it come On a mockingbird's wing Who awakes me In the middle of the night Or if you drum it On earth with your prayers At dawn I will sense it If you bless the water I will read it in the glimmering Light of sun on water And see what you have transcribed on the Flow of life I will listen because you are And always will be my Mother, brother sister, father, child of mine I will never stop Listening, For to stop would be like Closing my eyes Shutting my ears Refusing to move For you are all a part of me Sea Wind Fire of the sun Leaf falling Back aching Heart breaking Root of My life Tree in winter, summer, spring And I am you And you are me I am listening And now that you have Sung to me Drummed to me Prayed with me I will forever be listening To where and when and how You speak to me Under the covers I will be there Looking at the night  sky I will be there Singing to the morning birds I will be there And running on seedlings underfoot I will be there For I could be no where else And I know you have read The waves at the shore The tea leaves in my hand The tarot card I drew from a deck Of fools and knaves For you are me Whenever we forget this And do not hear our unique Contribution to the chorus of life From stick banging on earth To candle quiet in wish making May we remember Bum bum, bum bum, Bum bum. ame April 4, 2011				8/23/11		Delete

Karl with a K

KARL (w/a K)

When I cried at the first shock of learning of your death

My body shook and shook in tiny reverberations

As if you were energetically leaving

I could not hold you

But I could feel you

Stay connected to you as you passed

Where have you gone my sweet complicated brother?  

I miss you as though you were torn from me

Like an unripe fruit forcefully plucked from a tree

I wanted to keep you close  

But I felt the pull of your absence

As a missing part within me

The day after your death is grey wrapped in fog

The sounds of garbage trucks and laundry

Seem screechingly loud. 

All should be silent to sense your missed voice.

The cadence of your big steps

As I walked my dog

The smiles of people passing by seemed empty

As though they did not know

That the world is not the same with out you

I caught a glimpse of a kite caught in the tree

And I thought the kite knew better

That everything should stop

And honor you, your passing.

You would have liked to see the kite in flight though.

You would have problem solved a way to free it to the wind           

And let to follow the current.

I didn’t know where to put you.

I will put you in the wind

That is constantly moving and evoking the trees to sway

And the children to walk faster home

And the butterflies to twitter in the sky

And a hot farm worker to be freed by its cool touch

I will put you in the wind that all may know your passion

A passion that observed the world in great detail

And recalled both historical fact and fictional metaphor

That wanted to know the suffering of another

More than care for his own

And who wanted to know the triumphs of another

More than his own

To ask the child the details of selling candy

And the woman the mystery of giving birth

And the sister her interpretation of a child’s play

I will put you in the wind

So that all my know I am always with you

And so that I can find you to offer me solace as only you can

The Day After You Died

The grass whistles your song tss, tsss, tss  

The old pine branches move slowly as if rocking you

The oak leaves dance rapidly like feathers in a storm

As if chanting their protest

Grey in every direction

The light cast steel, stilling glow on the bay

And dwells on the iridescent purple blossoms

And lemon scented daisies that shiver in the wind

You are at once gone and everywhere

The white Queen Anne’s lace

That grew in parking lots near our childhood home

Stand tall above the grasses succumbed to the strong wind

Then steadying first in the slowing breeze

Then I am pushed from behind in a circle of chilling wind

To see the criss-crossing paths

Winding up and down the hillside

I step forward to stay in your presence

And feel the shiver on my fingertips

And the dried tears like twigs in my eyes

Most everything is blooming

But a few cursed pine branches are barren

And stony like fossils

I am reminded that you are now part spirit and dry earth

Everything suddenly stills except for a bumblebee

Collecting pollen and a bird’s faint song

And a dandelion bursting its seeds to the wind

As I will imagine you have

I will come and find you here in the passing spores,

Blossoms and barren branches

And still I will miss you always

But cherish the chance to be faintly in your presence.

Thistles

I used to see thistles and imagine them proof

Of our capacity to triumph over adversity

And now aware of your death they annoy me

For they grow in the very bumps

and crannies of the earth

where you met your death – a ditch in the road

How dare they tease me

With their arrogant triumph

When such triumph was out of reach

For  you?

And yet their thorny stem speaks of the

Give and take of survival

And the beauty of each life

No matter how small its blossom

The wild iris grow amidst the grasses too

Their blooms have burst in the hot spring sun

Above the sea

They will die soon as you have

Gone before the season’s turn

But they will have touched us with their beauty

As certainly as you have

As the blossoms in your park do

I will not curse the thistle its triumph

Nor the iris its short bloom

Nor be too concerned by the shadow cast by life

And death on the same path

For I myself cast a shadow

As does the bird above

And the grass blown by the wind

When the bird flies off in flight

Beyond my view

Its shadow leaves me just like you

I take comfort that in the days of your life

You too balanced the thorn in your side

And the potential blossoms to come

And come they will

In lemon yellow hugging the ground

And in raspberry with orange sherbet like hues

All with green stems buried in red earth

I will live sadden by missing you

But inspired by the complexity

And wonder of it all

Just like you

Poem Tails

In times of daffodils (who know the goal of living is to grow)

forgetting why, remember how

In time of all sweet things beyond

whatever mind may comprehend

remember seek (forgetting find)

                                                                                                        ee cummings

READY OR NOT, HEAR THEY COME

The children have taken your place

Running up and down the slide

Clambering for popsicles

Jumping over dirty jump-ropes

And hiding each other under sand with cigarette butts and candy wrappers

But like you they imagine only that they will never be found

And yet are ecstatic when they are uncovered and revealed as themselves

They demand notice in the grocery store line

Throwing themselves on the tiled floor

Until their mother hands them

Something to hold

It might be an apple or sticky muffin

This will assuage them as it did you

If the mother is wise enough to make the

Giving and receiving important.

Do they fear the world’s global warming?

Are those the monsters of their times?

Or are they already planning solutions

In their dreams of peacock feathers

And elves who whisper the way home?

They have given up pretty pink dresses 

But not the lovely sassy smile 

As if they always were and always will be little big girls.

a me

The Riddle of Our Inheritance

If Eve never ate the apple

how could we ever hope

without savoring the seed of life

to be God like?

If Eve tasted the forbidden apple

unable to enjoy its succulence

would she accept the current condition

which neither sustains the apple tree

nor the unborn child

accepting to sin, is only human?

If Eve tasted the luscious apple

truly

she'd  know

that sustenance is no sin

refusing to bear and eat fruit

with gratitude

may be?

a me

Swimming at Sea

Knowing tomorrow you will be there,  just as you are

sunny or cloudy or gray

I can feel the texture of my own vulnerability

and imagine safe docking

despite the waves that crash.

Our connection is like a buoy

to a tired swimmer or a

lightening house to a lost ship.

We are safe because

together we make one

another float in the

raucous sea of life.

a me

Trespass

We are like a circle of young shamans playing with fire  

until we discover that the elemental nature of the fire moves us to feel more alive,

the spaciousness of air to feel more possibility,

the flow of the water to extend our journey inward

beyond crossroads we once feared trespassing.

We are not alone now,

nor are we the sole holders of our fate but held within it.  

Dancing like praying mantises at the first sign of spring.  

we are lover and loved at once,

For we are all in this together,

you, me the octopus, the lily and the star.  

As is the little girl balancing on the stones just outside my window,

talking non-stop nonsense rhymes that almost make her lose balance.

And her father says “Watch out honey” 

and she says “Ice tea, out of town.” 

The care and the nonsense,

the fear and the potential exist side by side,

as do we.

a me

Knead


My chest feels like
Dough rising.


When will it
Rise up to
Nourish my voice?


When will it
be pounded down
again?

ame

10/11