is today’s working poet
not much but
a journalist marketing her art
copy in darkness and in light
wearing black, wearing smoke
sadistic love of alliteration
praise if not understanding
rhetorrick’ing audience
can you hear what she sees
as newsprint under-fills a cup
requesting water for its grounds
lying at rock bottom
they’re filming a tv show in my tiny town [poem]
I’m not the only one who gawks at the sceneHandful of heads and cell phones belowLocal photographer in charcoal appearsThere will be others My office, the room where I do all the thingsthe crying, the writing, the yoga, working, planning, paintingtop floor of the old state bank. 1911 was it?The center of this tiny town… Continue reading they’re filming a tv show in my tiny town [poem]
is this the eye [poem?]
dog diedfather liedyou’ve been asked to walk alone gurujiyellow homecharras in the window forest treescome with mebanyan draped so heavenly scooter ridewant to diewent so fast around the curves feet in windowbutt on seatfingers barely find the keys breath wonder when I’ll find my feetagain Many times I’ve sat to write. The journal is better… Continue reading is this the eye [poem?]
grateful for the floor [poem]
one thing I have quickly come to knownothing kills you slowerthan letting someone go grateful for the floorthat holds mein a time like this grateful for the woodsthe man with steady hands grateful for the brushthe pen, the words written and playedinto ears as i wait i will wait so desperately fuck. // thanks zach… Continue reading grateful for the floor [poem]
I felt taller than you [poem]
When I faced you daughter to father, in the kitchen I felt taller than you just like I did as a teen when I lept for you down the stairwell and when I threw my hands around your neck, near the pear tree. I never meant to hurt you Even though, I did. As the… Continue reading I felt taller than you [poem]
please let there be blue paint there, too? choosing to career again. [poem]
I stayed in bed all of today, savefour walks to the kitchen, the samenumber of front door openingsso my yellow dog with a hard chestcould pee on sparkling snow, light bluereflecting the Saturday sky of January.I felt a fever, which made me scared notin fear of this virus I’m told to be afraid of, but… Continue reading please let there be blue paint there, too? choosing to career again. [poem]
time to butter bread this morning [poem]
Her speckled tan banana breadis dense, losing moisture, and tastesof saran just a tad within my mouthful ofhome. My mother always made two tinsof the simple cozy cake from a bunch ofrotting yellow fruit our family did noteat. She still does. Two weeks ago shewrapped a loaf within layers of plastic and left it on… Continue reading time to butter bread this morning [poem]
the rise of you again [poem]
a new old light in my smilewhywas it the kiss of the man I was meant tobe withwho I kissed almost first, and who I’d love to kiss lastthe strangeness in our mouths, a welcome home toour bodiesperhaps it’s when we stop performing proving and decide on settlinginto the sweetness of a human life, without pushing back… Continue reading the rise of you again [poem]
crabmeat chuckles, finally [poem]
as the sticks of crabmeatslippery from themselves and the waterI rinsed them with in a swirlslipped across the plate, one landedall by itself on the center metal ridge ofthe steel two-basin sink.there it was, a shaft off pollock andegg whites, dressed as king crabwet and floppy near a spongey yellow towelI chuckled, the joy in… Continue reading crabmeat chuckles, finally [poem]
humble pie served up online [poem]
the moderator wears bracesi imagine these are new, a covid offeringnow you can hide your metal smile behind the mask, closed doorstime to rebuild your face what a shame story the music of an orientation videobegins, i start to cry, pausemy video, can’t show othersthe soapbox i once stood onnow here i am, grounded
therapy again [poem]
therapy is going well, we all agree I smoked twice today though, also truefinished off my self-medicating stash with a dance party to The Weeknd balanced iPad recorded my efforts. head nod. two therapists, two paradigms of healing, and my own acknowledgingan intellectual mind loves to sparwith like minds, developing beings playing nice to pay the bills. head… Continue reading therapy again [poem]
nature is my home [simple poem]
Surround me with stone and citysociety, structure of man —I’ll still find my way. To rock and water, earth and trees, mossy meadows, sand — home to bugs, birds, me.
god asks, do you trust me? [poem]
the purpose is experience what it is, isself-realization, enlightenment, removal of the veil who decided we needed this, light beings being god asks, do you trust me? humans in a mad mad world without rhyme in reasonsearching and seeing while others do not care to look how miraculous it may seem to not wear spectacles… Continue reading god asks, do you trust me? [poem]
a morning with me breathing [poetic invitation]
enjoy a morning with me breathingwhile our world is turning stillsee here …exhale… lightthere is movement in the wind silence in the stillest placesand even smaller still, wisdomin the rocks below, and in youmy friend, in you
terrified of the other mothering [poem]
i hurry rushing flushing bluster of nervesi pause from stacking the tank tops on the shelfbehind the door of knotty pine, that slides, a bit rough on its track stopwhat am i doing? for whom and i changing what just was? who am i trying to be? my healing vacation of… Continue reading terrified of the other mothering [poem]
don’t take down the art asking to be seen [poem]
i don’t know where to put it, or himthis is his space, too, and i need to be respectful not everyone should see the sulking frothing form of woman, bleedingon walls and screens, on her face, smell of cannabis and tulsi smoke and death, asking art asksto be seen so then how to do itto… Continue reading don’t take down the art asking to be seen [poem]
yes to that man, i said [poem]
soft, the marvel of love, too softbut hard is the copybook of reason if I may have one for my bodyit should be a soft lover, one willing to rub rub rub the soles of my feetcouldn’t have a life of hard scraping tries from a man who doesn’t know quite how to love a… Continue reading yes to that man, i said [poem]
you sexy crescent moon [poem]
you hook me with your tipas i’m driven under you and insidemadness, taxi, tuk tuks, Delhi you do not hidefrom faces of women in dupattas, men in turbans, cows dawdlingdead on the roadside look into me, you sexy crescent moonlow, gazing wildy, heart and hara, hot and prickedjust above sugarcane fields forever are you waxing,… Continue reading you sexy crescent moon [poem]
india’s evenings remember [poem]
india’s evenings rememberhold the heat on copper, above a saffron glowemerald trees witness from mango gardensblue skies now gray behind cooking smoke and hazeaarthi melodies cricket bat crack crack crackschatting and chirping away like birds at young soulsdelights for wandering ears and eyesquick to claim understanding, a purposeintention care systems for saving the way … Continue reading india’s evenings remember [poem]
you can forget the words– artist you yogi you writer you–once you’ve gotten the meaning [ram dass poetic teaching]
(ram dass said chuang tzu said) the rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit.once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare.words exists because of meaning.once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words where can i find a man who has forgotten words so i can have word with him?you don’t have… Continue reading you can forget the words– artist you yogi you writer you–once you’ve gotten the meaning [ram dass poetic teaching]
you are enlightened, said guruji, i tossed it back from the shore [poem]
the swans and eagles visitedwhen i lobbed your ancient firestone in that indian lake thousand years of resurfacing took a second time, god tests me i listen to my voice more than his baptised by my own free willin that indian lake if ganga wouldn’t take me by golly, maybe kitch-iti-kippi the icy freshwater spring… Continue reading you are enlightened, said guruji, i tossed it back from the shore [poem]
love is love [poetic teaching]
what is it, you say (baba ram dass), about UNCONDITIONAL LOVE? when we’re in the presence of UNCONDITIONAL LOVEour hearts experience joy and expansion, whichis UNCONDITIONAL LOVEand within experiencing it, we’e free to beas WE NATURALLY ARE, LOVE and so, you say (baba ram dass) THE HEART will lead your authentic EXPANSION if we allow… Continue reading love is love [poetic teaching]
who is baba ram dass [in gratitude]
i am an unworthy phony who has moments of holiness, he said i am not a holy beingwho nowand thenfalls liberationimagine a wheelhub in the centerliberation now and then throughintense traumaand sadhana, or the love of a guru, or something moments of liberation you go ahhh you see who you are and it’s all beautiful… Continue reading who is baba ram dass [in gratitude]
einstein demands the new way of thinking, which tibetans used to know, jaar [poem]
let it go, new path takers
reflect for a moment… Continue reading einstein demands the new way of thinking, which tibetans used to know, jaar [poem]
golden cosmic wisdom water cannot pour from empty cups. tibet, i see you. [poem]
silent and stillupon the plateau can you imagine what it’s like? just. beings. just. being.vessels of golden cosmic wisdom waterready to enlighten who can pour from an empty cup? man wants just the taking, of the taking of the mannot leaving lone magnificence, righteous rightswisdom is free for all, and withinjust.… Continue reading golden cosmic wisdom water cannot pour from empty cups. tibet, i see you. [poem]
get it right, the first time around [a very simple poem and truth]
trust your voice, wisdomthe first time around, foolcould save you some time and some pain, (wo)man
surrender.here.now [poetic teaching]
(krishna says in the og bg)he who teaches those who do not want to hearis performing an immoral act but you couldn’t anyway it is only at the point that you ask the questionthat you can hear the answer it is only at the point when it begins… Continue reading surrender.here.now [poetic teaching]
lovers never see their sorry [poem]
he still never has said sorry, or did he, did he hear, or see, hers?i didn’t hear what he said, never did i hear what he saidjust as he didn’t hear what i saidwhen i cried in pain at a later date, not now baby lovers never see their sorrywhen they are also in painand… Continue reading lovers never see their sorry [poem]
how to shatter a ribcage [poem]
the magnificence of stars, colddraw those shoulders uptotheearstrapezius active, terrifiedwrap those ribwingsround the heart, keptprotected, warm by fear and powerin the bones wow what a feeling wearing wings, bold, strongyou know how strong is the human ribcage? (links open in new tabs; i know you want to know; don’t leave; i’m still here)is yours as… Continue reading how to shatter a ribcage [poem]
if i shall be enslaved [poem]
take me to the artists’ queuelet us try to break needs and chainswith color, if not, with death if something shall enraptureme, be it a demise of formattempt to bear witnessif nothing else, on the long pathto the bottomof the middle
silent break ups with boy friends suck [poem]
did you realize you’d broken up? paint pours, you contour hischeeks, white pink flesh, two molesbest friend, he was, he wasfor many, years ago and the others?alan beaver the blonde twins, best friendstrusted them, with your hurtleft you wild, with your hurt more than anyone… Continue reading silent break ups with boy friends suck [poem]
scared now of the sound [poem]
scared now of the moving soundchime, blowing, breaking trees voices come not from this placeabove nor belowcan it be just simple soundtrue messages from ground close the shuttershunker, bunker, take itdown
the wet heavy velvet wind [poem]
the wet heavy velvet windpulls herself through the hemlockcurtains, boughs floatingon the waving carpetup low down up low down up stone forest trees, shortwearing coats, beautiful, warmstorm after storm, weatheringheads down, huddle closedefectors are the first to go did you see the beech leaves turnfrom yellow to gold to brownbefore they fell to the groundturning… Continue reading the wet heavy velvet wind [poem]
i’m not a good human, says the iCritic [poem]
so shitty, reallyin many waystoo plentiful in numberand variety, andmotive to tell you just how bad i feel i’ve become
chobani enlightenment [poem]
your feet pound the faux-wood floorpace, pick up, forget as right foot stepschobani, strawberry pieces, redanimal rage so strong, little man your anger, your fire, youthat you found along the path of lovenow as it casts stones at your sondoes it feel good to burn, mama? you gulp sour spit at… Continue reading chobani enlightenment [poem]
the big, deep, spring [poem]
for twenty-five new dawnsi propose a mid-day drivesomething to look forward to the big, deep, springnot far from where i lay my headbeside gray-brown heavy curlsof my now toddler son we went on a drive today it snow and was the first time since it stopped, not that long agotoday it arrive, arrived, and arrived… Continue reading the big, deep, spring [poem]
sick in the thick of (fighting) love, dammit [poem]
I do(n’t) want to fall in love. (i’m afraid of it) I don’t want to risk saying goodbye to the fire in my heart, to the dancing queen in my soul, to the get-up-and-go that makes me who I am. I don’t want to leave behind all the things that make… Continue reading sick in the thick of (fighting) love, dammit [poem]
shirodhara: an ayurvedic oil awakening [poem, and embodied request]
drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip streammmmmmmmm warm oil streams across my face pours from a pot above my head falls an inch below my hairline, just above my eyebrows running softly across my skull rushing rivers to my temples swimming in a swirl of curls oil pools beside my head, towel… Continue reading shirodhara: an ayurvedic oil awakening [poem, and embodied request]
Opium in a baggy at the tea stahl [poem]
Black tar, she enjoyed this kind in high school, rolled small balls smoked in a marijuana joint sometimes fired on its own where in the world did midwestern teenagers get this poppy product adored by the Rajasthani man tar-stained teeth, no shame offers it to the American mother in a navy a-line skirt sitting beside… Continue reading Opium in a baggy at the tea stahl [poem]
You bowed to me [poem]
how many days have you walked into my room, rice on a tray, dal, quiet as a mouse careful not to wake my sleeping son while seeing my mess, some shame an american queen, closet concubine, waiting for the work to be done at a desert hotel with a pool today for lunch I demanded… Continue reading You bowed to me [poem]
I longed to be a beautiful woman [poem] // tale of our first solo scooty adventure in the desert
I caught my shadow on the single-lane asphalt road with broken rocky shoulders that drew a line south in the Thar, save a few curves of sanddunes drifting across the surface. My head was tightly wrapped in an emerald green pashmina from Jaipur, the scarf tail dancing behind our bodies roughly one hundred kilometers from… Continue reading I longed to be a beautiful woman [poem] // tale of our first solo scooty adventure in the desert
The same, questions of your father [poem]
the boys in the temple today spoke down to me, questioned again, about your father eyes, pure white, open and embracing circles of brown round black, still believing these are more beautiful than any anyone has seen I regret… Continue reading The same, questions of your father [poem]
The fall [poem]
my father-like fingers, hands protruding veins, short nails, tips red, holding, entangling in pushing aside you sweaty hair colored like a taupe rabbit soft like an underbelly quick to cut, to bleed my mother’s mouth, lips wet, warm whispering breath, apology song, tears on your face, now quivering bruised from the bang on marble floor,… Continue reading The fall [poem]
Worth, part 1 [poem]
what is my worth? she asks me, a good idea from the shower, she says. she struggles too, with depth, an eagerness to know both of us pulling clothes from the line, sandy feet shuffle on the marble rooftop … Continue reading Worth, part 1 [poem]
Two loads in a partial-automatic [poem]
Pressed against the concrete wall Beneath our dripping laundry Entitlement, arrogance Ashamed at the abundance Of both For 32 years I’ve known that Only machines, mothers Do my washing And now who am I to be But that – Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, India // March 2019
Man from the chattri [poem]
you have kind umber eyes burnt black brown skin both eager to know me, know love not knowing we are not the same I am the wind blowing far from here not into your desert home your space and simplicity attracts me the sweetness in your smile, also this but I know the machine is… Continue reading Man from the chattri [poem]
make me a space to be, god [poem]
make me a space space to breathe space to be, god make me a space amongst sturdy pines and cedar, spruce to sacred hills and silver boulders blowing bells, bansuri water cold, original ice discipline himalayan stream, become om namah shivaya I ask not of any earthly… Continue reading make me a space to be, god [poem]
Dreaming, waiting. For you, for me.
What do I want? A man who loves and supports all of me, who is strong in his embodied and awakened masculine, and embraces the beauty of the feminine, that he adores, that I am — the playful, free, somewhat insecure and sometimes frightened self, that is also wild and a little impulsive and often… Continue reading Dreaming, waiting. For you, for me.
If your eyes are still open [poem]
If your eyes are still open when the birds begin to sing stay awake pour the tea open the book of love songs and poetry wrap your shoulders in a shawl sit outside on your balcony watch the sun change the sky from muted gray to lavender and peach to soft faded blue and notice… Continue reading If your eyes are still open [poem]
Do not ask for a heart made of different clay [poem]
Moon child, my curly-haired moon child, Lay your self open, bold and full of breath, alive, on that still-warm concrete roof, between the Ganga and the hills, and ask me what it is you long for… But do not ask, ever again, for a heart made of different clay. For I poured my Divine Self… Continue reading Do not ask for a heart made of different clay [poem]
people are innocent when they’re about to fly [poem]
i watch people and their people’ness play out in buildings built to keep people structured in the last moments before they fly a heavy adult man makes faces into a FaceTime screen to… a child or wife or mistress on the side? it’s cute either way. new friends become friends near a burger in the… Continue reading people are innocent when they’re about to fly [poem]
a man with a grill beside a colorado creek [poem]
his eyes amber green orange and yellowhis mouth soft and brownso shiny as he spoke to me from behind a grillEl Salvadorian golden teeth, german nosehooked with a mole on the right, a mirror to mine speaking hot and dry along the colorado creektelling me of magic, he’s painting us a storyof a gardener, our… Continue reading a man with a grill beside a colorado creek [poem]
Titus Lake, Idaho [poem]
Moments spent in the waking world, alone with nature, are some of my very favorite moments of all. 😊✨🌀🌎🌿🌞❤️ Because it’s 8 am and you’re at a Rocky Mountain lake you’ve never been to before with only your golden dog and a few chipmunks and deer and dozens of birdsongs as company you shrug off… Continue reading Titus Lake, Idaho [poem]
My practice [poem]
❤ new poetry ❤ I read this quote [Our spiritual practice should ” … feel as natural to slip into as our favorite jeans or T-shirt, at ease both with being worn and being worn out.” — Robert Augustus Masters] and I reflected on my favorite spiritual practice. ❤ Yes sir, I’m down with my… Continue reading My practice [poem]
My Story… in sentences…
…written about my life through age 26. Here I am, 3 years later, with chapters more to tell… wishing I would have shared more then, and determined to share more now… — I’ll warn you that the story I’m about to tell often isn’t pretty. It’s not a fairy-tale or romance novel. It’s complicated, confusing,… Continue reading My Story… in sentences…
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