there’s always love available. our job is to find it. when we are stuck looking for where its not we won’t find it. only when we commit ourselves to finding the love that’s available, even in impossible situations, will we be able to find it. Some trees are already bare, and the leaves that remain,…
The Only Good Art…
The only good drawings he’s managed to come up with over the passed few years, are the one’s in which he started with nothing. No plan. No concept, no idea of where he would go with it. Start with a few lines. Experiment with technique and try his damnedest to fight those inner demons, which,…
Out by the Cedar
Scared, but craving more, I reached with my hand and tugged on the outer rim, she stretched enough to fit my arm in, then my face and suddenly I was pulling myself inside her, her womb.
Words Can’t Save Our Soul
Well we know it’s not the same now, As it was before. It’s been chewed up and spit out. Left out on the floor. Left out on the floor. All we have is words now, To save our barren souls. . When will we Wake up to the reality that’s staring us straight in the…
I subscribe to leading a life directed by a knowledge that memory is not only some place in your brain, that memory is stored in the muscles, nerves, and cells of your body and that when you learn to trust that memory you can live poetry.
Carried Away (A Poem)
Carried Away Scattered leaves, various shades of chrome-yellow, and currant, stream endlessly, carried away by the current over and over again leaves pass, not too dissimilar to discern the difference. However, without the underlying knowledge that there is change, there would only be insanity – Still, the water, seamlessly drifts – flashes of silver and…
Here on earth we’re spinning ’round mirrored reflections Oh whoa ho sometimes I catch myself and everything goes streaming by this is where I see I’m a part of it. Touching that which can’t be touched I’m touched. We’re spinning ’round heart reverberates into the endless mirror chasm Oh whoa ho-o Filtering down back into…
Crystal Mtn Peak
I talked a lot on our way up the 6,500 ft peak. I talked and taught until I realized that the mountain said more than I ever could. The wind through the pines and birch, rushing water from a distance, the bird’s song, our shoes on the dirt trail, the clouds, the sky, sun breaks,…
Breathing in crags of coral lungs expanding, slowly, slowly, the diaphragm contracts and pushes, room for further expansion. weightless. breathing out feathers the entire world melts away into pleasant joy. the belly, like a tide lapping on the shore if we can be aware of our insides what else can we be aware of? slowly,…
Today we move like the wind, through the marram grass, and sand dunes, never getting snagged, forgetting and moving on.