Cycle Love

Our focus now reveals the way we pay
energy the currency and how we play.

Isolation attempts to be well
when all the while

illusions we create with sick-spells
harden, then crack, collapse in the lack

of the fluid love

always present

like light

seeping in, fragrant
and delicious redolence,


the gift of breath
allowing and receiving

and present-ing

arriving and leaving
and in the sacred now

the how is clear:

there is no enemy invisible
attacking the pitiful

we bring ourselves
to wholeness from within.

We rise, we shine
so we begin.

Inspired by sunlight on the lake, Unmask, Jasmine, Cypher and Rage.


Gonna bounce with my crew today
make our own sunshine
music dance sing drum play
create a world that’s fine
escape the plutocratic drone
of fear, insanity, despair
we’re bopping in a rhyme zone
and fun our only prayer.

Inspired by: Bounce, Sunshine, Crew and Helpful.

Invited To Inquire More Precisely

“A new manner of fashion I’d found,
And the world seemed to smile all around”~from Alice Blue Gown by Joseph McCarthy.

An overflowing nose at nap time prompts
a tall pile of pillows. We lean.

I need to cry for Mama, but his throat
is just too sore. And so I sing.

Tuning in to simmering feelings.
Tell me if I get it wrong, I say.

He’s quick to instruct, she is MY
mama, so I shift the point of view.

I sing a minor key of feeling sick
and sad and needing Mama who’s so far

away.  Hitting the sadness button
his face screws up, grief erupts.

I justify making him cry now
unstuck, releasing, being heard.

Giving silence and a hug. His sobs
fierce and quick until a winsome smile,

brave and quivering, he nestles closer, says,
Now sing my song again. Sleepily

as I present leftovers: the tight jaw
and throbbing temples until we breathe

in dreams, and all the germs come into
the light, the room, the planet in song.

Inspired by: Justify, Leftovers, Manner, Winsome and a three-year-old grandson with a head cold. (And Alice Blue Gown charted #1 in 1920.  My mother sang a different version à la Judy Garland “and in manner of fashion, I’d frown, and the world seemed to smile all around.” I like the original much better!)

Navigating Twitterverse

When your younger brother runs around the house with scissors, you should definitely object. ~

Dedicated to @VinceSchilling and his wife @DelSchilling and their absolutely hilarious and heartbreaking tweets .

I’m not feeling at all amorous

as I wade into the forbidden fray

of squabbling neighbors who are unprepared

to be hospitable and welcome dissidents.

I summon agape.

People expect me to choose

sides, and I am here to hold

space for the silenced. I notice

other compassionate ones in this fight.

Recognizing each other, we light up

the field and connect like artists

who are instructed by the white space

between brushstrokes. My ears are cocked

for the sounds of the ones

we haven’t included. I’m inviting

the silenced to sing. Their laughter

rings, only obvious after I’ve

blocked the streams to Tweeted

hate and lies.  See the clear signs

they’ve been holding patiently?

And their chilling message:

What was done to us

will be done to you

by hate inscribed long ago

in the books of law

you profess to cherish.

Listen. Long the objects of oppression,

we survived.  Ah, the truths we could disclose

if you would only let go of the fear

waves broadcasting relentlessly

and open your wise hearts.

RDP Hospitable

FOWC Prompt: Object

Daily Addictions Prompt: Disclose

Alan’s Recycling Bin: Forbidden

Word of the Day Challenge: Amorous


“Constellating builds a bridge to that reality that has no language for the movements of the soul.”Gabriele ten Hovel

You ask me to elaborate

just what it means to constellate.

So eyes closed and silent

our heartspaces pliant,

we tune in to what festers.  

And all of our ancestors 

crowd into this small room,

threads of a living loom.

Though your question is our focus,

words, like a swarm of locusts,

may do more harm than healing

in their indiscriminate feeding.

They rise from my own

traumatic past blown

from my cultural history

and what I hold in mystery.

We access the wordless places

like empty crystalline vases.

Our simple aim, profound,

to shift the very ground

upon which we perceive

and through which we believe.

If I take your hand or touch

your heart, you’ll learn as much

or more than any words

can ever say.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: elaborate