Other Works

Dirt Beneath the Mountain

I met my love in the dirt beneath the mountain
Mossy and sweet
Where only the ferns grow

Once a seeker of the peaks
I lie here now
On this ground
Covered by all that was

My ancestors
Possibility
Dreams of the past
My memory

My joys are the songs of the flowers
My sorrows
The death of a friend

This place is familiar
Sounds
Voices
My face the world will not see
Cannot see

There is beauty in the darkest night
Where the paint is chipped away
And you can see the sky
She sings!
Her voice bellows low
She speaks my name
I have long forgotten

Dearest sister
May you follow my breath as a whisper
Help me to remember
What Is
The stillness
The bones
The dirt
And let me carry you in my pocket
So that I always remember

Songs From the Hourglass

There is a place
Where new and ancient melodies
Are joyfully sung together
In different languages 
As one

Leaves of paper
Bound in a book
Unaware that it's being written
By itself

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over 
And a new melody will have begun

This story will be told
One way or another
By whoever is left to tell it

We are all but butterflies
Dancing briefly
The sun delighting
It's reflection in the pool

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over
And a new melody will have begun

Too broken to move
But too alive to die
No one's mother
And everyone's foe
A dandelion shining in the grass
Some don't like yellow
Wildness
Medicine
Resilience
Returning over and over again

"Is there still time?" you ask
"For what?"
I do not know
A nameless echo cries from the depths of the woods

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over
And a new melody will have begun

In as a boy
Now dreams like a man
A million man's brother
Known as a number
Sunflower shining from a sidewalk crack

"How can you grow here?" he asks
From the earth
Roots grow
He reaches out to feel the strength of the core

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over
And a new melody will have begun

Ground still warm 
From blood that flows
Years gone
New ways to keep Other out
Mexican rose shining from beside a wall
Abundant neighbor
Beloved
Succulent
Vibrant
Defiant ruler counting dollars in his room

What can survive this?
Yet water still flows
Streaming deep
Beneath the desert divide

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over 
And a new melody will have begun

Brown-skinned tot
Wants to be an astronaut
Mother smiles as he looks up at the stars

The cosmos is yearning
Purring
Churning
Endless film
Reminders of our common thread

"Will you make time?" she asks
"For what?"
So you will know
The love
That blows every blade of grass

What will come to pass?
Songs sung from the hourglass
A moment will soon be over
And a new melody will have begun

Sophia

Watching for a change in daylight
For time
Signs from outside the windows
Of my eyes
Is the sun coming up?
I don’t know anymore
Yet cats nuzzle to greet a new beginning

It is warm
And empty
Wrapped in the hide of a yellow cow
And waiting
Docile
Unprepared
For what to do
For changes to happen
Justice
Resolution

Checking for messages
There are none yet
But alarms call for movement
No matter how small

Dragging myself there
Although There keeps changing
Choosing to wear color
And jewelry
Reluctantly
To arrive
Standing on another dark stage

Why am I here?
Sophia sits on my right
Smiling
Kindness
Sincerity
In her eyes

Wearing all black
Covered by no cosmetic
She speaks of the importance
Of dancing
In trance
Among others
Enveloped
Within the self

Dancing around this black hole
Of time
As each next approaches
Like Paulo’s train
Saying “yes” to whatever presents
As long as it heart aligns

Dancing
To find the way
To possibility
Resolution
The constant spiral
Of undoing
And becoming
Existing on the edges
Of a darkness
Beyond day and night
The gravitational pull
Home

Lunchmeat

Mother I know your sadness
For you see difference
I know of disappointments
Injustices
Hope’s disappearance
Dark clouds that shade the sun
Death is nothing
Compared to the death of the living

Broken glass will surely get stepped upon
If it is not picked up from the floor
And a crow being chased by a coyote
Would surely perish
If she forgot to fly

Mother I know your sadness
But I cannot stay
I’m meeting the Dalai Lama for lunch
And he is waiting

Sister I know your hatred
For you see difference
Differences between me and you
She and him
She and she

My existence is no more or less threatening
Than other leaves on the tree
The sun shines just as easily through any
And we all delight and flutter
In the grace of the moon

All buds
Blossoms
And changes color in time
As the wind caresses us in flight
So too does it blow our remains
Into the gutter
Only to soil the new

Sister I know your hatred
But I cannot stay
I’m meeting the Dalai Lama for lunch
And he is waiting

This house is large
With many sets of stairs
A house is really a church
With many benches

He stands at the gate
Smiling as people exit
Wisdom will only echo
So long as there is emptiness to allow

Meetings happen so long as there is Place to meet
Places happen so long as they are not misplaced

So I wait here
For there is no more coming or going either
That I can see
I am meeting the Dalai Lama for lunch
And he is waiting

Echo

So devastating is the word
“Devastating”
The echo of which is far louder
Than the act that was its source

Perhaps it is because of the emptiness
Of its container
A solitary witness
To what has been done

Or perhaps it is due to the proudness
Of the walls
That enclose it
Towering high
Over these canyon walls

Do you ever wish that you could
Travel back
To the source
To change the vibration
Of the bell
That has been rung
To change the tone
The intent
The strike
Ripples drifting
Endlessly
Farther from the sun

The Red Thread

I take refuge in the eye of the needle
What will be sewn?
You have been my greatest friend
And my worst enemy
What do I have to offer?
Looking down the barrel of my demise
I recall the red string that was tied
Such kindness

History Repeats

Lines in the sand
Divides
Tattooed across her landscape

Mediocrity rules otherness
Such travesties
Transgressions
Those who cannot see the Self
Beyond us and them

As fear rules the pen of the finite
Great care is essential
When etching stories
Onto our cave walls

The true muse knows the art of Being
Ruler-less
Indistinct brush strokes
Connecting all constellations
As one Truth
To tell the story of our future
And of our past
Before the Judas of many faces was born

Christmas Tree

Give her all your hate
Shapes of crazy lies
The untrue
The kaleidoscope turns
But she will still Be

Raping and stripping her of her cloak
Will be to no avail
Impenetrable
Her fire burns hotter than the lava that has been spilled on the floor

Warm words of beauty and sweetness
Reflect that which wants
A pig snorting from within a rose bush
Can you smell them?
Words are only words
No matter how eloquently they are hung

Maybe you see disease
Sickly and with great stench
Needing your medicine
At great costs
A little of this
And a little of that
But externals can only penetrate that which they are

Oh, so clever is your intellect!
A splendid box
Wrapped with a pretty pink bow
Yet a pebble thrown in a puddle
Sounds different
Than one thrown in the sea

Ornaments twinkle
There can never be too many
There is always a greater one
More spectacular than the last
Each with their own clasp
A weight on her boughs

The crowd sings “Oh, Holy Night” as she stands quietly
Decorated
With bruises and glitter
For all to see as their own
But they do not see
She is a tree

Water

Where do the words go
When they leave your mouth?
Do they fall to the earth
Like rain?
Nourishing the roots of all that lives

Or do they fall into a bucket
Underneath the sink
The smell of must and metal
Permeating the room

Sometimes when I close my eyes
I recall the smell
Of the softest rain
Washing the leaves
That rustle in the night

They are the lucky ones
The ears of the universe
Hearing Truth