Tan Line
Tan line A fine line— marks day from night, dark from light.
Tan line, A thin line separating hidden from seen, an edge too clean to bear encroachment, or fault.
Tan line, Second serves On courts, of clay gashed With nets— thin white edge All have to clear To fall fair.
Tan line— Crazy serves (not pointless) We drink the mountain’s Dew Odd quirks, Oddball pros Dead arms dropping--- Broken
I am beyond The games lost and won. I run Reaching….. Not to miss the mark This time.
Love is pointless Only in this game— In life Love is all=== And only.
Tan line— A new line Of flashing eyes And spirit— The loss of you A deep ache in me and you—
you win, your ad your ace game--set—match—
Tan line.
Windows Sing Witness
Windows sing witness Songs – great cloud of shout- etch fired Images peering Into our hearts, calling us Walk holy journeys of ours And theirs. Still speakers Of pain and faith, spirit flame Embraced, melting to Compassion- truth- peace, all God qualities drawn onto Our souls’ slates, painting Black and clear sparks full colored Memories of good And courage and love long ‘ere We lived them. These mighty saints Drawn and enflamed here Glow as holy ones- holding us Near to them and all Others who fix hands to plow, Hold one another and God.
Abraham
Abraham’s vision A star-crossed one—barren hopes, Cried from an old man’s seed, Become Isaac’s laughter, mine Now. Find sacrifice redeemed, Promises sounded From Ram’s horn—celebrated, three millennia. Myriad life leapt and grew From dead loins to aged womb. Old hurts struggle still To kill brother-love, to wrest Almost life from death. Arab son—Hapiru son, when? Pour your hawk nosed abandon Into our own lives Shine your vision in us, now.
Phoebe
You, shining Phoebe, Servant Deacon –light bringer, Food feeder for Christ, You smiled your gentle wisdom Into Paul’s heart. Caught by his Pen, you image Christ- Servant icon foot washer, he modeled for us Caring touch. You reflect God’s Glow, life challenge to my heart.
Sojourner Truth
Speak now, Sojourner. Speak truth to my justice-poor World. Even now, ” Ain’t you a woman?”, courage wrapped, bent, not broken—chain now broke. Call faith forth, Jesus, Her passion spent in dark sneak Railroad, your journey As well. Integrity and Hope wear the face of all born Of woman, not just The fair ones. Send that Spirit You wore to sunder chains bigotry bound to me. Unslave me, Truth speaker,now.
Boy with Loaves and Fish
I’m but a boy child, No status do I carry here, No power in me— These basketed loaves and fish, Crusty smell draped around me, Small shoulders carry Questions shrugged—why my food? Why? My food is my share, Puny fare for so many My security held tight You take to divide. The puzzle in my face seems Wry mystery wrapped. What bounty works through my life Changed into new found fullness. You, Jesus, did this Through me. Transformed what little I bring for myself Into plenty.—fish and loaves? Me, O God, multiply me!
Michelangelo
Stone carver, painter Of God’s creative passion, You hammered your dreams And pain into reality, freed Caught captives from stony wombs, Image brushed God’s touch Into the awed space between. You sang poet’s fire, spark full With human yearnings and grief, Lost love, chiseled fears. Your Pietas wrench us back, Revere torn Mother love, Compassion hewn orphaned need. Your graced art gives flesh to God Incarnate in us.
J. S. Bach
Singer of God’s Grace And shepherd’s full fold glory, You are God’s music, More than somber fugues, two part Inventions – played harmonies. How darkness shadows Our days – but you send note-sparks, Flashes of medley, Toccata cast, down the years, Keyboard caught Divinity Sounds your genius Into my needy world. Make Holy our strident Lives. Your pure songs melody Homage to our dancing God.
From Where I Stand
(at the Falls of the Ohio)
What speaks the murmur. What cries the wave-lap, Slap lapping rock and marl. My river's silent stories, I stand expectant to hear, Long since told --- gone, memory Carried, freight lashed & Tight rope bound, em-barged To another place, listen From another time caught In currents too slow for me To know. ................Where I stand (People may, but moons don't lie About rhythms & cycles And what awe-ful surprise waits Wrapped in daybreaks yet to shine) Yes! .. ..... From where I stand Indian specters ghost hunt Bison, endless patience wait Herds' wet stink-shagged falls fording--- Hunter's face a wilderness Of gnarl eyes, flint fire anxious, Season upon season learned Long since to sense hoof-splash soon Then spear plunge Beasts' gasping hearts, Chests heaving from fear-cold swim, Blood lanced water a river Itself another portent Of sacrificial passage, Gift ....... from where I stand Corn Island waits hushed, not gone, Asleep, cozied, snug Beneath a flotsam sewn quilt River stitched, never finished Heirloom, (motion tendered alms), Ageless alluvium wealth Deposit for another Bank (round the bend, past my view) From where I stand, far across--- An Indiana shore, rich, Full green & distance sweet The other side of this flow, Always moving, never still Telling its own taciturn tale, Crypt/ic island-- body buried, (Canal caused current demise) Liquid shroud, silt filled Nose reek of diesel taint From tugs, while cars & semis Upriver bridge-belch progress Into acid skies dark as Pass over ---asphalt threaded Needle, passage out of now, Into the eye of never,
From where I stand, deeply moved, River untouched but for fleet Shadow, speckle-spark highlights Over rippled glide, let wet Throated river voice flow past My mind entranced set adrift To word woo me back alive.
From where I stand, this river's Silent lips sign mute mind touch, Slow speaking how short my days --- Standing inside a moment's Breath-take, such my span of years --- Making little sense Of a mere letter or two Read frozen, in an epic Tale thousands of years spoken, Worth the full telling only In deep, slow susurration.
What speaks the river murmur? Soft assurances through flood And thin to assuage future Fears about my world working Out somehow like this curled rope Of life, where I stand.
No Other Worlds
(for Loren Eiseley)
night black air knife cut thick, heavy drapes my thighs -- wet sweats hanging work out weary resting -- insect song drone & cricket chirp an “I am my own world!” din, & larvae wrap cicada phonics around me -- cocoon encase my thoughts waiting focused inside to comfort nestle me. i don’t exist in their night-sighted world -- & beyond perception sit apart -- not a part of rasping wings & fiddle legs drumming their identity . for night tuned ears. the home I seek, like Homer wrought heroes, hides behind a darker destiny than Argo bourne wonderlands magic made to challenge my own Argus-eyed wanderings.
who I am I mystery unfold mid journey not the end of it. Discover search a larger world than I will ever find outside inside myself.
Dark monster waiting, crayoned from childhood days tongue-chewed fist drawn,
square-lipped scream my fears from their fire-eyed faces. Circe & Sirens and one orbed giants hidden lurk, & ward my name from me.
No other worlds but my own Need exploring to find my place here.
I Ponder
Fish, orange-gold gliding, Seek out answers to hunger. Mouths gulp mysteries.
I pond/er search as well ---wonder If the questions I swim among Are all the answers I need gulp. My hungers gnaw, a dogfish school, Shark infesting me --- fear-feeding On my dark lusts with frenzied teeth, Mouths agape --- not finding the core Of me to sate their own seeking.
My mad cravings not a rending Ache in this garden place --- this safe Retreat --- simple-shrinks rank deranged Ogres eager to feast on me. Here they no longer terrify. The twisting path a curl of peace Rich with/drawing color repast Food for eyes and soulful chewing…..
Taste and see the goodness….. Textured Trail replete --- a belly laugh full With bursting growing climbing…..life Singers chant me a mystery. It seems mystery grows amid Planted paths shaped like question marks. Vines bloom a refuge for my heart --- Shade to heal in --- my hurts warded.
Their simple leaves and bending stems A shout of quiet joy. Trumpet Vine, Solomon’s Seal, Burning Bush, Scripture sign my walk --- make mindful --- Entwine earth with heaven --- Jacob’s Ladder abloom (no need wrestling Angels here). Sit and pray. Soft breathe, And be. Buddleia, --- Nandina ---
Clematis climbing --- mute proclaim This rampant beauty garden path --- Ordered chaos. Slash and burn no Power here where rock, sun, water --- Fragile plants --- squeeze life out of clay. You sing birds and butterflies for My heart searching. No answer sure As the peace found here --- full with God.
Wind/flowers dance away my doubts, gentle healing a fractured me.
New Doors Beckon
I straddle a crossroads, not a fence-- My quandary place rips and tears Out of richness not poverty-- Boggle-mind potential tugging--- Which way walk? Which step take? Which dream Follow? Which dark plunge chance to make To find the me inside alive, Full with song. New doors beckon near With a wry twisted sense of fun-- To anxious quest what “Game Boy” choice In me to pursue, thrill waiting Breathless behind each opening. Same thresholds were there when I wore A young upstart’s face, peering now Through folds, wrinkles, and gray/white beard. My choices drum for me a more Insistent beat---choose any yes For one becomes no to others, My life no longer span enough To stride through all-- risk void stepping If the choice is booby-buzzed blank— Hollow—a TV show vacuum--- What prize behind each door? Can’t choose One but not the others—future Closed and locked. But isn’t it said When one door shuts others open? Wiser hearts than mine have conveyed That reality---open doors Become beginnings of peril--- Or promise, place of faith-stepping Shadow walking charged with anxious Excitement skin crackling hair raised Static popping electricity Shiver teasing arm hairs alert— Nervous belch or quick anxious glee Leaking from our face and spirit— No matter our age—we sweat and Fantasize-- a pimple faced kid Ready to knock on a first date’s Door, or tremble sits porch-waiting To find what unthought surprise strides Into our hearts. Every door a way Into a new world,—new sights, fresh Gifts to seek in oneself—pieces Of old dark pasts, fear-stashed apart From our own eyes and memories, Brought to light, then chest hugged tender As part of me, my darkness, mine. Every life holds stark patterns, --- Individual images, Dark self needing own acceptance. Chiaroscuro enhancements Sharp limn my light & shadowed life. Darks deepen a too pale palette, Etching our rising, another Rembrandt “Lazarus” drawn from death’s Porch, “Come forth!” ear ringing us back.
New doors beckon me--- “Step through now.” Shed the shroud wrapping my lost smile, Lived memories become bright-eyed Hope for not lived yet moments-- wait, Still rapt in surprised naiveté, Captured innocence a treasure Not to be squandered or held safe, To narrow & grow petty. But Spent in richness sharing, risking Pain or betrayal find the kiss Of fullness filling my heart. Search Becomes a passage full with doors Beckoning --- each with mystery Masked-- like myself---open or closed, No knowing ‘til it’s tried if I’ve Become the door itself through which Others trust and enter searching— Or shun so nailed tight shut a/way. I straddle still my world--- new doors Beckoning--- yet each opening A dawn gate inviting me now To be both way and new journey.
I FLY STILL
Flying days are special days, Exhilaration high days Full of soaring and elation- Not yet the peaceful drift, The cloud quiet float of balloon, Basket tied wicker womb, for lives And thoughts of above, yet somehow attached, Unseen tether tenuously holding me Connected to my world.
Serene the soar -- Sounds normal speak below, Become a trumpet in my ear, demanding. I flew in younger years, Towel draped cape a flash of color, (No need the phone booth, I) Safety pinned "Cannon" at my shoulders All the net needed for this Superboy -- Doghouse roof jumping, Flight of fancy fueling The sudden surging power to save The world, if given enough time, Before supper call.
I fly still. Not in dreams And fantasies of evil checked, Bad guys locked, uptight and surly. No more the stark black and white Of clean drawn boundary, good against evil, Right versus wrong, saint faced By demon, --Us opposing Them. That erst-edge of contact now a fog Of questions and lines Mystery obscured, held and breathed, Hidden.
What I grapple with touches and changes me. My prize, a vestige of Jacob's limp. I wrestle with my own angel, called darkness, Find a me in there as well. Compassion does not attempt to soar, But sits and rocks and holds The hurt and sings of life, Helps dreams of flight remain.
I fly still -- a stole, my cape, Alb, my triangle caught "S", But the color of this sore-ing Is grey, as grief, and good from bad Guys hard to know right From right or right from wrong, Which boundaries limn my age Blurred vision, all still Somehow one, --needing to fly still. I fly as best I can. Let some other Superman save the world. God tried -- and found power in failure. Things don't seem saved Most days. But days of heights tried Give a different view -- Proportions change when details disappear Into a larger miniature landscape, Distance etched then rolled, Put away for a closer seeing Another day, --special to fly into Exhilarated and free.
I am a Humpback
I am a humpback with young— Protective & proud— Gentle as a watery nudge— Sharp and vibrant as a tailslap Thundering my presence. Hear Bubbles boil a rush of rise, Furrowed throat aburst with krill.
I am a humpback-- song singer Few players can follow— Basso-chant the score I sound. Wake , my world-- sing deep The wild I sojourn wide.
I am a humpback-- faithful, Unafraid of the deep— Mysterious as surprise & questions Unasked-- unexpected— Breaching a kelpy grin With barnacled jaws-- scarred By danger-- sacred the sense Of life, pouring joy - Water streaming fluke drops Catching spray sparkle sun, Beads light lancing my worlds eyes, Then plunge into aquatic dark.
I am a humpback large as life Will allow me-- as held As the flow of world Which slippery surrounds me— Graceful as laughter pealing Gut given & innocent.
I am a humpback, passionate & playful Alert to dark dangers still, Undercurrent riding beneath— Full-with-life-humpback, Buoyant as hope Aswim with sunrise- you Ebb & flow in me rhythmic As the tides, eons danced In slow time To the very core-pulse Of me.
Back Porch
Stately lady gowned white & foxy red, Pretty as any belle who plies the river, In need only of a wheel to paddle away— Hooded shelter for gaze & dreams & Thoughts flashing in & out of shadows – Like bird quick spurts & darts, food searching, To another place, you are refuge near.
You table welcome family & friends – Railing gather & hold us – ledge become Elbow perch for deep pond peering – story Sharing a time for lives opened searching To find answers we swim among, silent In the dark, and anxious to sunlight see – Feel the glow of lighted hearts & hopes, Warm candles dancing their gold smiles across Faces, ceiling fans a purr of breathing.
Glider squeak & sway of sitting, hands held, Back & forth touches a sanctum inside, Old as remembering – deep mythic hold For primordial need, astride a limb To watch magic flashes tear the night apart – Cool air a shiver of leaves drawing near – The rocking, a rhythm of memory, Hummed & pulsed with milk sweet breath, gentling me.
Jagged shards of light spill out rent cloud plash, Rivulets cascade from prelapsal shanks, Water worries dark ground splotched garden loam, Seeps to fill my empty need to root wrap Earth to me, en-natured, on this porch.
Web By My Door
Web by my door-- complex framed Narrow net for through-viewing
Gentle be/held morning, fresh broken --
Lamp to downspout hung. Soft edged silk
Gossamer light-caught quick silver
Threads dew bedecked glisten pearl drop
Lenses capture-shine an upside down
World. Sticky string, spider draped
Woven web comely trap beckons prey caught
Snatched-- no strings attached -- cocooned
And set aside in gauze -- arachnid spun
Cotton candy treat. Red-eyed mouth drool
Captor, hover suspense patient for me
To disappear into its web by my door.
Retreat
Birds saber-flicking hyper tails, Seed laden sparrows replete sing Shower lieder, and cascade splash Wriggling little downy bottoms, Nest settling rumps into the purl- Echoed calls enfold the garden, Wing flap laughing their joy-- lifting My world’s grave faced need of gladness.
Tadpole not yet frog ghost prowling, Large brained dark sperm shape,- still, subsurface Stealth bomber, gray gliding menace, Monster sowing a scary chill To see him gulp and go, swallow Without warning, water strider Terror pulled in its wake, waiting To become the next bitter bite.
I sit entranced, contentment curled In my mind like toddler fingers Wrapped around a popsicle stick. I soul-retreat to taste the red --- Rich sip cool sweet nature’s savor -- Know the God inside, outside me, Tranquil rocking me quiescent.
Patchwork Image
(for Ross, Robbie, and Alex )
Aids quilt, woven fabric of memories sewn sentinel of shattered dreams and lives interwoven pain and hope Life-death-threads of Tragedy. Innerstitched shouts of praise to replace real presence real reminder of loss empty holes torn in the cloth of potent promise and talents untried and gifts unshared ragged edges snipped short --too short to wear to golden days. Tears and sorrow and endless lists of names cried into our hearts swollen to breaking rent asunder by death--obscene and vicious totally without conscience prejudice, respect for age or gender or gifts ungiven back - to lovers.
Patchwork image of my world you unfold my pain - and sorrow that you need exist at all.
“American Gothic” (after G. Wood’s Painting )
What rigid pitchfork holding mind Stares at me piercing Me caught on tines of time, caught By his eyes -- closed doors, Curtained like attic windows Hiding what lies behind.
Beside --standing sister -- severe, Concerned turned eyes looking, Looking past -- away from me -- Any me -- too constrained By her own need To any-other see, Much/less her brother. Yet Cameo at collared neck speaks A softer she -- somewhere lost In a kinder day.
What art do they play me into -- Standing before that painted world Drawing me with their strictness To wonder about their life (And deep, face-stoning hurts, Fortress jawls set For protection and security) And who my own face Paints me to be.
Covenant Call
I sat designing today, working my way through spectrum-inked images of silent, shouting symbol. Stars, and Sunshine, and Ladder Shapes climbing their weaving way through light and blue and shattered sparks of Covenant bow. And you were there, behind the Stars, beyond the blue, and radiant reds--- ever-present part of me Creating. I with-drew, for a time, to be a deeper part of you, to draw you in my mind; to form you in my thoughts and have your presence absorb and love me. You called me -- in the midst of our thoughts -- a contact of Covenant more real than paint on paper -- to speak your love, to share your day -- your voice, the gentle hand of light which shades and hues the piebald tapestry of our lives.
Paths & Fences -Thoughts from a plane I- Dallas
Hazy paths, earth bound threads, limning people’s lives from square to square -- asphalt stitched winter cover, mist mantled quilt -- distance drawn for seer’s sight, life lines tempting me to walk the rope of stories lived and waiting to be told. Those tangled trails are sometimes fences of fantasy, where days and nights sit, huddled in the years -- disclosing the wide - eyed wonder of world of dreams -- and surprised by alarming light, awake to stretch themselves into yawning reality.
We are caught by paths and fences, forced to be free within them -- to walk in fascination and wonder into a future which embraces our lives with a stoop-shouldered hug. I am loved! That is the only fence I need or path to take to find how rich my life.
Time Unspent -Thoughts from a plane II- Phoenix
Time away from you is time unspent -- seconds suspended pendulum swinging -- counting its past in metronome numbers fingering the years with palsied prints placed on mechanical wings holding aloft lives cradled infantastic cloud forms flying awayfromthroughto others’ time -- far distance rushing beneath me with a roar and slow-motion sense of need.
Time and distance measures the ache in me for being away-from you. Rivers, lakes, streams, flashing miniature landscape lights, stab my thoughts from below. Oh to see the sparkle in you -- the splash of life hiding behind your eyes waiting to invite me into yourself. Only time with you is time worth spending -- and with all those whose lives are time-tied to ours.
But you are with me now spending time in my head and heart -- lovers unaware of passing minutes daydreaming linked fantasies of presence so real it fills my humanness with your timeless love.
Follow-steps --Thoughts from a plane III -New Orleans
New horizons call me, beckoning, siren song singing of different days labor prep’d and delivery draped, wrapped in vocal chord clothes birthing me from complacent placental place crying New life! New life! New life, new hope -- New steps -- to take with hand grasped twin searching -- with me, eyes pressed tight closed, seeing question shaped hope. New life spanked into open throated cry, upside-down spilled braking barriers, charting my faltering follow-steps into.....
What lies ahead? for com-panions bread eating breaking sharing lovers searching in separate shoes finger locked lived together dreams gently drawn in prints side by side placed intertwined pointing new white tense-bleached nails arrowing a new path followed finger grasped, secure.
With no other, given any choice to choose others from, would I live the steps my life points out, but with you. To stride into the startled future -- Tiger lily shaped and amber washed -- to find what golden glory day unfolds to chase the sun, nectar cupped-for-us offering new sweetness to a pollen poor world.
Blest My World
Gray dawned day, cloud driven & rain suspended - Colors the daylight, Shine-filtered & soft - Welcomes thoughts of other times caught in sun glow days of faster pace and pressured need to do and leave new mark on a re-markable world which fast forgets its own.
Your love is past forgetting -- deeper delved than seed bursting with potency -- rich in promise.
How blest my world to know your life.
Welcome Do Not Enter
What kind of welcome is “welcome ---do not enter?” rejoice & come in? No splay-nibbed pen or twin-tined brush or split-fingered someone writ that forked tongue in cheek greeting card fixed on that stonewall ivyclimbing a guarded hello rock walling a stony silence for Gethsemani goers hiding a cloistered wonder-what-the-hell’s behind that wall they don’t want anyone to see the grass ain’t supposed to be greener on the otherside of something there is that doesn’t love a ....
does celibate grass grow with solitary roots or root hog & die before I wake me up when its vespers not prime time he chanted terse ly the cot’s so straight & narrow you can’t roll over -- (skin your knee if you do,) but horizontal hurdle a one-eighty drop & bounce if the springs aren’t broke --
Have to get your water down the hall & hope springs eternal those walls’ll never stand the test of stuccoed time, paint it white and maybe it will go away quietly now is peaceful somehow it seems the monks here black-yoked talk in whispers even when they don’t -- hush -- must come from a still place inside which hides behind the welcome do not enter.
Lockhart Sanctuary
Lockhart sanctuary, stone postured animals life carved rock animated. Hard veined statements time share trilobite space molecule linked across the years. Chiseled earth Mother flesh feed a waiting heart in quiet years and speak terra day silence dormant firma secret gathering wisdom gathered in Alabaster singing incarnate image granite caught freedom arrested motion in fleeting paws and pause posing questions to ponder with weighted whimsy.
Systems & sculptors can’t carve the same stone & image creativity -- crushed in the rush for order and a stone buster blank bottom line. No tool can form & find the life locked therein that’s allowed only an administrated use -- chisel fire can’t spark from hammer blows guided by unsighted hands.
Geese & doves pigeon-breasted perch & eye lash link to my chair a quiet nested me mind grasping in my hands egg centric warmed -- rock rhythm polish poised breathing creative connectedness -- to count the days on microscopic cilia flexing protozoan fingers into a fist then bursting in layer hard gasps into my world.
Rams & rabbits and crook necked geese, faces punched through stone nostrils flaring to suck air through lungless lips and balance rump cradled bottoms & rock in prenatal play.
Primate eyes search me seeing my primate self -- bright eyes monkey see -- monkey do.
This world eats artists for breakfast. Stone dust & charcoal won’t be found in a Kellogg box.
Remembered
Pudge-fingered shadows Child’s play flicker phantom forms cinema’d across my life. Josh & Christie (shining their sunny selves into the cobwebbed corners of my world) make magic lantern movies, deja vu’d frames, photoflash fixed... polychrome painted mind-screened memories rerun.
Babble-jabber bubbles funnies float from excited lips lisped for a world’s jaded ears, jar me (a kick in the head jolt) awake --staccato patter word after word whispered to wake sleepers ssh-h-h- step down step--step down step hand, flat-palm tracing, baby finger trails, father finger gripped morning greeters stairstepping a hello! into my heart.
Morning sounds unring the key to stories locked inside slumberskulls-- dream masked memories tumbler/tumble freed-- toddler tales hanging ‘possum-tailed & question mark suspended... Remember?.... when our own were that age?... Stories told twice & twice again ‘til we get ‘em right. Stories threading an eye-tied smile, silent signaled narrative needle, sewing sparkles behind our eyes
love linked years-ago days seam stitched to wear draped mantled pleasure for our faces-- patch-pieced quilt, warm and snuggle secure dappled delight awaiting my joy.... Remembered.
Newburg Road Peace
Agnes’ Bells beckon me from distant past wandering out of distance passed by racing thoughts of day -driven calendar -- wheels spinning -- schedule caught & captured for one suspended moment freed from status symbol appointment book “ I must be important “ full. My ride is late, So I sit seeing fun funnelled fountain, sparkle casting reflections against cement shaped seats, spinning its whirlpool shape in reverse down/up cupped water play-sing-dancing circle shaped sheet music -- making life line rhythms flow into my crisis crammed day -- humming Pachelbel canon mantra peace, my heart, be still. Sit & enjoy the marvelous moments deep surprise given gift giving a quiet core caressing stillness to a waiting heart. Newburg Road hill, haven for from busyness runners, you water welcome me.
Good News
Birds, -slashing through sunlight racing shadow across light spilled grass, -singing breathless beaked song of earth – life –dayshine perched on leaf limbed mount riding the breeze in shadow-dappled play. Quite a sight for sore eyes mist screened in relief from news good given. Signs of life, --new life, -- new line drawn dawned by pain and anxious bourne thoughts to umbrella shaped hope filtering future fears released in blood and tears. Blue pinioned flight promises peace and soothe sails into a new day.
Balloon : “Merlin and Nimue”
Silent soaring envelope of air. Pregnant bearer of basketed lives Suspended -- Awestruck image of far sighted future raising Reflected -- in dancing irises Shining -- playful focus of arm waving smiles. Uplifted faces frescoed with joy and delight, Anchor unseen cord joining earth and sky. Transfixed mystic ball magic splashed Conjuring paired rune readers, -- Enchanting silken sorceress Neighbors moon clothed Merlin, Heat ascending cloudwrapped canvas layered with windbourne stars streaking’ Nimue hurled, -- caught In gathered panels of worm spun cloth. You are sailing song-shout of uplifted lives.
Ocean
Some days carry a color-cast always aglow with images cradled in reverence and tender smiles, sacred sensed. An August day, full with wings and flight towards family and sharing of symbols (window- children of my heart and hand) and hesitant fears of acceptance-- & expectations changed from slacks to skate-board-buddy- shorts, spoke such promise.
Cerulean clarity fused with wet horizon’ blue hue blended, mysterious power pacified this day-- inviting a gentle brush with neap-tides, combing sand and shore, white-foam curling a salty surprise, ebb and flowing the back & forth rhythm of our lives. Shells gathered, chosen for ‘lobe suspended serendipity-- sail boards scudding, shouting a paean of wind & wave-slapping exuberance, mylar rainbows ballooned with speed-- Dowitchers head-bobbing walk sandpiper strut their knobby-kneed humor into our eyes and slender-beak-poke holes into their wet world.
We talk. Four become two by two-- twinned long ago by vows pointing us, coupled, into the future. We hand in hand-linked walked a foot tender trail over ancient shells-- Shells themselves, of pasts not remembered-- by other than chambered nautilus endless spiraled into now, & vestige echoes of rhizopods and arthropods-- trilobites mind melding me to a primal world still real to ancestral smell and synapse sparks of knowing-- Mesozoic memories nesting behind our eyes, dis-closed. We poured out silent fears-- tension creeping away sideways crab-crawling into the sea-- gone, trailing empty bubbles.
We sat amid fish & clams & “puppies” dipped, laughs and stories bonding four into one Net House nestled evening drawn to dusk-- distance shared-- back to discover peahens roosting-- chimney-perched pale ghost shadows -- flashlight stabbed in the night. Then tale of unpainted eaves and louvers falling on vacant ears-- No one near to eaves-drop or steady a climber in the dark-- becoming another story to grin.
Some say God lives near the ocean. Yes. And now the tides ebb in my heart.
Morning Moment --Galveston
Bathed in it, balcony caught, Sunrise en-chanted constant murmur, Surf-surging foam-robed lines Endlessly curling their presence, Water drumming the sand.
Black fluttering specks far-dive, Pelicans near, wing flap sync & Indian file feed, flying Baste dot & dip hems Over the swell-- sewing Eon old mystery, like sea/quins Blinking, to the surfline.
Shrimp boats, nets gull-wing draped, Drifting pendants, green lights peering Beady eyes distance drawn Surreal image suspended-- arrayed, Time & horizon waiting inanimate, For God’s touch to be--
Beauty eye-stab-fixes my heart In joy-- I lump-throat swallow My coffee, aroma Forever memory twined with This moment rapt-faced shared With Patsy-- Mickey, Roger, Bobby, Becka, Andrew & James, Adam, Daniel, Christy, & Josh.
Morning moment given to know How sweet my life.
Garden
Lover, you are garden rich with promise and life bursting through quiet days to become hope & sense of life yet to open. You are garden place of security & close held love -- earth smell deep delight unfolding the sacred in all you touch like daylilies morning light-waking or candle fire flashing surface seized by water cascade rock-split flowing into my heart, silent deep shadow swimming search calming me, like fish gliding.
You are garden grandmother arms wrapped around child-- grand or inner-- opening soul-doors to find how connected we mystery-world are one for the other & all the others as well who garden search pebbles & rocks to delight splash in surprise -- all are there, I am there. We are there in that garden. Yours.
Michelle
Music singing Songs of joy -- Playing prayer And gift given In return for gift Given. Daughter’s Dancing fingers running Across a salt And pepper world Seasoning, With color-spice, Black And white Lives needing Flavor. God finds ways To open the doors Of our hearts Marked deaf, With music’s key And notes With nimble fingers Of gift given Enriching other’s lives And sings Yet one more reason To play “thank-yous” With our lives -- And listen To music made And add To choral chant My one Voice Singing “How rich My life.”
David
This, a poem to you, son David you, a man now, still a boy searching for himself -- with pensive smile & reflective dreams soaring You the flyer -- cloud piercing disappearing before me lost faraway look in your traveler's eyes. I marvel at your strength & resolve -- your willingness to feel the consequences of principle lived and acted on. Your own freedom, bound tied -- held captive by your need. I know behind your controlled cool is deep banked hot, heart soft & steel hard ready to gentle the earth & earth's children you so cherish. You sometimes seek to disappear and walk behind other's eyes through secret doors. But you can not ever find the door that would let you out of my heart -- quiet son, oldest son. So I write this pleased with who you are & hopeful I fly into the future with you who are David -- cool & fiery. Yes!
Leaving
Weaving body , finger dancing music into lives hungering for song keys to who I am in another melody -- improvised notes unwritten as yet -- notes not ready to be penned on lines drawn across my world -- measuring the disharmony -- harmony focused twelve-toned dissonance playing -- singing truth and acceptance, paeans not dirges, Alleluias in minor modes shadow singing my life.
I live Secure
I live secure held in your arms of days full to brimming spilling with care & moments shared -- warmed, by golden sun of your love -- flashed sparks captured by your eyes aglow from your smile -- tender cradling me.
You are heart-hugger -- truth-tell-seeker -- joy-sparkle -- rich woven womb/offerer -- children blest. Your heart shaped spirit opens life holder wings & doors to new bright days & visions of worth -- comfort cuddled in your I love you life linking us together.
No other need in me need be filled except in you. Friends Treasured evening with treasured friends splashed with sunset smiling and music made with rippled reflections ceiling dancing and laughing light playing rainbow hide and seek with wood and cloth.
Tender thoughts held in trust and offered with open hearts— Accepted with mist-eyed hope and wisdom washed faces smiling an O.K. across the room.
Memories made and stories shared, ( formed by fish and talk of ceramic clay fired across our dreams) and meal, bind friends to one another.
We search our hearts to find what gift we bring when welcome holds us near, and calls us into knowing how special special love is. Presence is gift enough to form four friends as one.
Winter
You, Blustering old man of ice cold mornings, playing whirling dervish dreams with screaming wails, snapping and cutting coats and scarves and breath imprisoned in crystal air, drive icy nails through gloves & boots impaling in frozen fright the victims of your frenzy.
You slash and rip and rail, in fever cold screams, toss against amber warm light and calm of the indoors air where a pretty little girl with fiery hair and ember red nose, (secure enough to smile and grin a warm hello) and crackling presence relaxes within the arms of your cries outside and begins to sing of life and you.
Valentine, 1995
This cold morning’s driving into the sunrise -- dawn scripture-separated night from horizon hugged stratum of in-birth sky -- layered mauve & pink slice of life color canvas splashed our new awakened thoughts, dawnglow painted hope, lightly brushed.
You so await the light -- emotion search your spirit quest for day -- so glad to shed the cold of dark, grip colder than bone-chill ice. Your heart is warmth for winter night not yet broken into day. Your smile dances my heart into life -- snuggle embraced in your wisdom & gentle empathy.
I love you. So easy to love you-- so rich & full-filling to be near, to share your life -- to experience the always unfolding mystery of you -- to bask in you like comfort-stippled sunrise -- shining new dawn insights ever deeper into God’s care for me & my world.
No daybreak could ever smile light into my dark world as you do-- I thank God you are here to joy-laugh it with me.
Red is heart
Yes -- Red is heart, & passion, & Pentecost flame Suspended -- Spirit, abrim full Flowing bright: Red Blood & crying eyes & Flash of pain bursting red hot Poker -- scarlet cathetered violation Specimen stuck -- pinned butterfly Caught fix-winged, no regard For dignity -- I’m insected -- Displayed in the art of science No care that its self pain/ted As its life. Yet Red is Lake Michigan Swallowing a bright gumball Sun & Sound of waves wind pushed & My Patsy’s red jacket, flapping, Hood drawn tight -- crimson Frame for a wisp of smile curling Her excitement -- joy & nature Thrill-peeking out at me Through bursts of wind. Like fingers playing peek-a-boo Before her face -- the cutting Edge of red streaked sky Bleeding its life onto the water Tinting our Dunes the color Of evening. I sit At the edge of fear, Red tinged, dark inked void Incarnadine, madder Lake Maw veining to black To its chasmed heart, empty Cold. Red-eyed monster Drooling -- in its hand A clutch of heart -- my heart Squeezed to icy cold -- my warmth A vermilion pool beneath his feet.
Red is hibiscus lounging On my porch -- floral fat & Pleased with its bushy self, Abud & abloom, insolent & Red-olent with sassy spiked tongues Greeting me when I visit Or wander there with my eyes -- Their Bronx cheer not the cheer I seek, but find peace & beauty There-cupped & soft edge fluted Hope inside me -- blossoming red My heart! Yes.
Tiger Lilies
Day lilies, stretching tiger bright, soak in shining sun -- suspended flamingo legged cups, pistil-pierced for bumble bee’s delight --
You are new life singer, closed against the dark, shade-wrap cloaked from star light’s gaze. You shine my better side -- Jekyll hide the darker part of me.
Night is needed restgiver -- even for dawn glory orange-opener such as you.
Season of hearts
This season of hearts and your own borning, finds love dressed in different cloth, swaddling wrapped life newborn bundled smell suckled babies’ breath, mother-sweet.
You tender hold and lavish “Nannah” hugs and smiles so deep earth’s heart is bared – a throat rich laugh of new life, and mother-mystery sensed connection to God in time with us now generation drawn into the future by grandbabies’ tugging.
Our own lives a story of hearts & hurts, as all who love have found, for love is risk of most sacred self touching other self – vulnerable and innocent – open to the world, in trust – a simple smile of creative joy and whispered yes. Your life a yes, enriching my world – echoing in my life the sacred laugh of God.
Corning Connection
Corning connection, you warm welcomed us with a glass blown kiss and smile, crystal-coaxed and spectrum hued for glass lover’s delight. You open, for awe-eyed wonder, “Innerland” vistas mystery singing a lyric laden truth – reflection casting caught highlights, Highlander hurled, sharing sparkled enchantment. You brim-fill excited vessels such as we with new found joy-focused lenses seeing a same same world with newborn eyes – sight line drawn creative cords spun with vitreous threads umbilical bonding us-together-with your translumined art. You have touched us with your gift and we are transformed.
Haiku
New leaf slowly nods. Light etches quick bird shadows. Early dusk quiets me.
Maple seeds spin free. Airborne whirlpools 'copter search. Earth waits ----- rich, soft womb.
Birds, a chorus now, sing a coda for the day --- my night symphony.
First drops splash the ground, paint abstract dark/light canvas, water color washed.
The phone ring finds me lost in quiet thought, I groan. Terrible the sound.
The distant motors growl, Night time hunting -- fast the rush, Swallowed by the dark.
Thoughts all a jumble Captured by the blank white page, Pen is still in hand.
Notes hang in my mind Mozart sings in memories -- My daughter's fingers.
Alive the sparkle, Eye dancing across her face, My love smiles at me.
Wire fence-slant rising, Bright ladybug climbs the sky. How far search the dream?
Pink and white dogwood Blossoms bask while breeze dancing Petals open, bow.
Roads are paths below, Like dropped threads they snake and twist, Crinkled landscape quilt.
Clouds dark blanket drape River, flat with fast flood weight, Trees, crushed, become rafts.
Bird, fluttering speck, Stitches circles to the clouds, River's sewn halo.
White barge, black coal full, Boils out brown foam, a slow wake, Silent the churning.
I sit. View the Falls. Page white, stark. Mind expectant. Haikus write themselves.
English landscape clouds, Luminous white, pearly gray, Paint serenity.
Pigeon -- head-bob walks Crooked empty wander search. My shoe ----not bird food.
Spring light tender holds Mist-edged Indiana shore-- Gentle the nursing.
Light dancing ripples, Noon's quiet water ringlets, Fish jump, swift feeding.
Daylilies straining To be first to drink the dawn -- Orange throated cups,
Hoo Ahh - Hooo -Hooo - Hooo. Mourning dove sings its grief song -- Wings flute its leaving.
How soft the down float -- Long grass caught and breeze settled -- White feather dancing
Haze filtered night lights, Strings of diamonds, Romance caught, Detroit's jeweled breast.
Pillowed cloud carpet, Gold soft sunset, palette brushed Corridor of flight.
Sharp sun-etched oak leaf Wind float dive long since spiraled, Brown, crisp shadow cupped.
Dark Fourteenth Street bridge Spans dark water’s flow of years. Worn memory tracks.
Gold carp glide searching, Gill rhythm oxygen full, The edge of hunger.
Winding pebbled path, Tan rock rolling underfoot, Satisfying whisp/er.
Trellis climbing rose, Early light soft unfolding, Bud of rapt surprise.
River spillway boils, Fossil beds a rush of flood. Petrified rapids.
Muscle shirt a bag, Jacob rail spindle through sees. Eye-catching pond fish.
White/black sentinel, River mist winter cloaked ghost, Still, inscrutable.
Clouds, bare twig branch bagged, Slow wind-tug to fly away. Caught cotton candy.
Quicksilver river, Pigmented flow of sunrise, Watercolor washed.
Draped with blur of snow, Raw chilled river silent-broods, Languid worry rope.
Winter sycamores, Stream walking jagged white sticks, Stark water markers.
Silver blue sliver, Mist-hued ribbon of river, Calm, precious flow-er.
Crested cormorants, Dwar/fish loch ness monsters, dive. Snake-neck periscopes.
Dark leaves north wind dance Woodwinds blow a cool blue tune. Listen. Winter jazz..
Fish, orange-gold gliding, Seek out answers to hunger. Mouths gulp mysteries.
Dawn fogged rope of glass, River-flow of memory. It’s past a keepsake.
Wind dimpled river, Alive with morning sparkle, Shimmers a hello.
Less than perfect glass, Morning’s soft light reflection, Mirror image, mine
Blossom full trees reach, River channel sleeps below. A silence of need.
Gulls flop-wing fishing, Diving lessons full with hope. Some come up empty.
Rock sown river walk, Driftwood piled, caught bones of trees, Fossil tales laid bare.
Low clouds southeast push. Wind gusts cryptic water-walk. River crop circles.
Jazz saxophone man River blowin’ me far away. Cool liquid blues notes.
Mist shadowed mirror Still reflects, no sense of flow. What’s past is past-time.
Helicopters spin, Maple seeds catching sunlight. Magic fairy dust.
Limbs soft shadow dance. Slow leaves shade-dappled-light play. Wood wind music, watched.
Still, silver lady, Soft morning light pearl drapes you. Dawn gossamer gown.
White Morning
White morning’s chaste surprise,
Powder laced hoar draped wild
Cold huddled flakes crystal-cling
To feeders and stump,
Ice-stitching filigree mantillas
On junipers, spruce,
Seed stripped Susans—& rimed pond rock
Pristine skin unbroken even
By rabbit feet or tiny trident
Petroglyph bird paths
Cuneiformed into the snow
Thin white line of soft,
Cold hugs each branch,
Bay window framed river birch
Morning poses for our eyes.
A slash of cardinal,
Wings a red statement across our white page
Then, bird perched, head flicks his
“Come out! Feed me” through the glass.
Guilt draws me out to join that world.
Seed cup in hand I freeze
To watch a black-capped chickadee
Upside down feed on a suet cake,
Our inches away acrobat.
We broke our fast slowly there,
Window caught –quiet world unfolding
Wondrous beauty fixed—normal time
Lengthened to savor this moment,
This food for the soul.
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