Saturday, December 17, 2011

woman at the well

all they think about
is the sin of the doing
of hair coming undone
the exotic misery of
life borrowed.
there are worse things.
could've missed it altogether.
not found the dearness of it,
deep to the marrow,
in a softly shared song. 
not a life for the faint.
not a life seemly chosen.
yet even along the small path
of one small spark
is divine purpose
and a radiance of angels fills the rooms within 
with the impossibility of love's goodness,
unconditionally settled for, and joyfully
made do.

Monday, October 10, 2011

for you

o dear God. there we were,
bent at our altars to life
being and doing the daily things
weighing our worth 

as if life were made whole 
by luck or by sweat
when it was all grace.
were it not for mercy

we would have arrived back home 
as accomplished as two motes on a dusty sill.
but here we are
light as angels

dumbfounded by love
tripping over all of the rules of this life.
perhaps it was the plan
we had to come this far

to know how precious it all is.
even without another day,
it would be enough only to have
these moments

knowing who we are 
and holding hands.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

while moonlight is still warm on the bed
and moonshadows play across the floor
a dream form moves
through my dark inner house
and hands feel along the sides of the walls.
is this an angel messenger
concerning itself with
the soundness of my heart?
the strength of my soulseams?
more dark forms wearing police parkas
are looking busy on the front lawn...

am i in trouble? how would i know?
where are fat cows and lean cows in this dreamscape?
and for God's sake where is joseph when you need him?
behold i promise to do yoga and granola
and carefully ponder the mercies of this life
until sufficiently fortified against whatever must come...
but please God make it short and sweet
because i am already up a tree
full of nuts and mischief and honeyblessings
and there be bears out there...

Friday, June 10, 2011

finding, knowing, being

how do you come to know
spirit and flesh
as two beings, not one?
what springs from the heart
and mind to tell?
look at your hand, and whose is it?
why are you in this body and not that one?
stand in the wind, know the chimes
stand on the porch, know the pungent rain
there streams a centering warm blueness
that unfolds and washes over
thrumming the panes, drowning out words
and a feeling of presence
from the awesome unknown
comes to comfort and reveal
bends your soul over the anvil of humility
smiths it in a world of difficult people
strikes you with the thousand tiny hurts
and quiet miseries
pounding out the hardness
until your being vibrates closer to true
in the asking and telling
and doing of love

Friday, May 6, 2011

steely aqua and tawny pink 
smoothing and gentling
glides the morning
an osprey sweeps in high wide circles
the silence of dolphins curl the surface below
a fisherman tends the water's edge
two great blues stand reverently by
the waves offer themselves endlessly
now it comes up all shimmery ivory
and beckons a walk on the sands of eden
so before i'm thrown back out on my own
where change and uncertainty loom without a plan
where aging and mortgages and medicare happen
i'm still morning inside
i feel magical and full of wonder at how it will all go
something bids.
we can do this life thing
let's get on with it

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

there's an osprey out there in my beach world
slinging herself high and low in a brilliant sky over the roiling surf
and she hunts tirelessly, in effortless circles, endlessly
swooping, gliding, striking, climbing
slicing the sky in sweet clean arcs
inscribing grace and terror on the may morning air

and there's a haunted mindbeast in here, in my writing world
looking out from behind round glasses and giant porch windows
where i write and unwrite terrible, helpless lines, endlessly ...
taped to the desk lamp there's a picture of you
sticking out your tongue,
pulling up your shirt,
rending my heart with your irreverence.
what a mess i am. and then i remember what this week is all about.
so off i go for a walk out where she hunts,
to feel her energy, to be hawk,
to attempt soaring out
and look at things from somewhere else for awhile.
so to live this moment, so to write another day,
scribing with a lighter spirit after the wind has had it's way with me.

things not unsaid

all of these little messages i leave for you
the clipped typeytypey emails shipped off into the ether
the txt msgs thumbed on a tee-tiny screen
the words from my lips into the little phone holes
after listening politely to all of your instructions

God knows how they stay together in little strings of sounds and letters
how they do their little word lives
how they get from here to there without utterly losing it
how they keep from pressing forward and getting pushy with each other
how they simply and obediently line up and go on as they do
carrying their little bundles of emotions dutifully
not stopping to untie them and sort through what was said
not rearranging things to make better sense
no, they just carry on, the little words
sent from me to you
arriving somehow pristine and crisp or soft or languid 
as when they left my fingers
or slid off my tongue

but when you notice them is another thing in time.
i suspect by then it is all a mush, an untimely revelation
of things said or written. oh well. there they are anyway.

in my mind's eye i see
the clouds of these little electronic nothings
fluttering in the nearby magnetic space
waiting for you to notice them
stuffed in the mouth of an emailbox or on a cartoon speakbubble
languishing in an audio backroom waiting for a tiny door to open
and beckon them to dance and sing into a willing ear
these messengers of love and play and musing
of small anxieties and sweet nothings
live and move and have their being
in this life i share with you
i never know if you get all of them
or even most of them
but if only one gets through
you will have yet a few precious words more
on top of all of the long looks between us
over and above all of the wondrous other moments
you will have these words
tumbling out of me in text and subtext
saying over and over
i want all of you forever
all of you
all of you

Friday, April 22, 2011

screw good friday.
what on earth am i doing here.
life is stupid ugly.
all that heartbreaking everydayness. why should i care.
 the meanies in this world are big. arrogant. indifferent. 
why go out and get myself killed for loving.
i think that's what happened, actually.
for shit shure he didn't die for people's sins
because Love doesnt do that.
we imperfect ones are who do that.
we kill.
we maim.
we pollute whole oceans and defile the good earth.
we are the only ones capable of being not-God.
God please.
dont make me love people who don't love me.
let me just be skinny and beautiful and perfect
so i don't have to be fat and dumb inside.
so i can love me.
so jesus can still be alive and laughing in this world
without me killing him every time i forget 
that he is in all those other people
and in me,
that i am made of the very Love 
that i long for.
i can't bear that.
i can't bear that.
Love and Mercy
please be known to me
in the breaking of everyday bread.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

as fresh and whole as the beauty of i and thou formed
from the Sacred Cry over each new soul 
from the Infinitely Profound into this great world
so are we loved, infinitely, profoundly... 
still and forever does that Love always come 
called or unbidden
and is never not ours, nor far
but here ...waiting, holding, knowing

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

standing at the door looking out in the garden for sign of laughter
spring has created its usual riot
and i'm about to miss it

taking care of the soul is a hands on job and i'm so weedy,
overgrown and brambly with thinking
some days i'm half-starved for wonder

its well past time to be  digging around, poeming, watering
all the brownish looking things inside...
hoping yet to scratch up green on a deadish stick...

looks promising... will have to work at it. risk sweating.
getting my heart all muddy.
come love. bring your spade.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

another day, another valentine

thing is
love is just as real as rocks

or socks or a fox or a box

people know how to deal with rockses and sockses and foxes and boxes

love, not so much

if we could only see reality for what it is
maybe we could get to know love better
and maybe even know how to live it

Monday, February 7, 2011

song for tura on her 100th birthday - feb 4th, 2011

mama, you are a wonder
you laugh so easily
you always look to see 
that nobody's left behind

mama, you are a picture
sittin by the fire
talkin to people i can't see
waitin at heaven's door

but mama, you're not goin there yet
we've got a little more time here with you

and while you're still here
we'll play a little dominoes 
listen to roger's sermons 
laugh at something we said

and you'll say ''my stars''
and ''land sakes''
and have a glass of cabernet
every day at 4 o'clock

mama, you are a wonder,
you laugh so easily
with people i can't see
waitin at heaven's door

but mama, you're not goin there yet
we've got a little more time here with you.