Train of Thought

“Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears Today of Past Regrets and Future Fears~Omar Khayyám

out here with the beings who keenly fly
attuned to the sky clock routinely, why
do I ever retire to the box-wired
prison, the matrix of beliefs bone-dry?

my dreams lift me back to balance
what my heart might behold and sing
immense truths words fail to hold though I try
tuning my instrument in the wellspring

earthbound where we’re recycled lift your voice
this moment is alone what we rejoice
our mother’s gift too vast to comprehend
we breathe, receive, and give this now our choice.

Inspired while reading The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyám at dawn on the porch while birdsong coaxed the light.

We’ll Do It In The Street

I’ve been infiltrated by I can’t
which of course means I won’t
and having boundaries is scant
comfort when it means I don’t
complete these tasks. The crux
of the matter is in formation.
Around me are the thousand fucks
I gave yesterday. Causation
is circular: we round the corner
in firm outreach and find
like Little Jack Horner from
childhood nursery rhymes
illogical, misshapen riddles
from beliefs that stick around
even after stringent culling,
our reality so tightly wound.
And I’m sitting in the morning
of this strange town, prompted
and prod and given warning
today the lines of love songs cropped up
and duty done, I’m singing
down the streets, a happy puppy
at my feet, my love so far away
in space and time. Ah, honey,
in my heart you’re still so sweet.

Inspired all the many difficulties of incorporating my daily practice in new environs.


What’s Coming

At the top of my list, of course,
is breath, but my next best friend

is death. They walk me, teasing,
loyal life wants to live

escorted in the arms of lovers
dancing in the flavors love

layers. Naming every birth
we create separation illusions

with our powerful beliefs
that sweep us past and future

rocketing by the song-now.
Birds chittering through oldgrowth

forests sound the alarm as we
play foreigners, our roots forgotten

we emerge from trees
and soil, composted

through uncountable millenia.
We chirp until named, we spread

our wings in arrogant denial
a flurry of greed to clothe ourselves

with what we buy in fear of
our imminent demise. Missing

the call to shine, eminent
moment of this particular voice

in this astral alignment.
When we walk in peace with our death

unafraid, we open up the stranglehold
past, let go of the predetermined

future at last, the patterns blown
in our explosive joy.

Death isn’t lurking, looming, it’s coming
for you now in deep orgasmic waves thrumming:

Our only prerogative, let’s be clear,
is to be alive right now, right here.

Inspired by Prerogative, Explosive, Foreigner and Eminent.


I Feel

May the earth feel your love.
May the earth feel your love.
May the earth feel your love.
Your love. Your love. Your love.~A Blessing For Anyone by Caitlin Johnstone, set to music by Michael Brunnock.

This mantra-riff opens my heart
spiraling down into my darkness
as I ground into the embrace
that pulls me, always

I am a pinkie fingernail
with delusions of grandeur
unaware of my connection
to this living system

and now bathed in this blessing
may the earth feel your love,
a call to consciousness
omigod i am love

omigod i am love

palpable, rooted despite
the sci-fi fantasies that insist
I am separate and able
to thrive in a tin can

floating above all the waving
tendrils of my life
may the earth feel my love
right now, as I shift

all the shoulds and thoughts
of merit, worth and deserve
dissipating as I sink into
accuracy, feel my love, your

love, our love. This evolutionary
leap into our mother,
luminous cords like music
resonate our love

and all our disguises and denials
movies or funhouse mirrors, love’s
delightful gravity we’ve missed
in our pretensions and flights

of fancy. May the earth feel your
love, your love, your love.
Blessed and blessing, curiosity
leads me here, now, I feel

enter the light
celebrate the darkness
and all the unknowable
which is everything I feel

may the earth feel you’re love.
The spellcheck insistence
valid now I’m love
may the earth feel me.

Inspired by: Riff, Accuracy, Valid and Movie.


Medicine Bag

For E, choosing high school soon.

On the brink of this vast
wonderland, hurray resounds
off the cliffs of middle
school, where you’ve been
humming as you grow.
This tall man’s body you
inhabit with all the melodies
of childhood still alive
vibrating chords you can pluck
at will. I celebrate
your strength, tap your shoulder
to show your lineage,
this wave of life that thrums
to live in you, through you.
I offer crystals to support
your journey, grounding your
utter brilliance as you
navigate the openings,
releasing the false tones
to settle into your own instrument
finely tuned. You take your place
in the exquisite symphony.
Your voice is exactly
what we need to hear.
The song you are
magical and clear,
resonating into the musical
planet. Touched, changed,
we rejoice your being.

Inspired by False, Wonderland, Vast and Hurray.


We Lift Them

At five she reminds me
morning comes gently, a kiss
wriggled greeting and so
my spiritual practice becomes
a measured walk along the rain-
drenched city streets. Here
in the island submerged
by the tsunami of Amazon’s
insidious vendition and Google’s
artful manipulation, the trash
along the walk proclaims
allegiance to the holiday
of spending. The taped boxes
ripped, the handsome wrapping
flapping in the stuffed bins.
We exchange our gifts daily:
breath with trees, holding
this wide embrace for
the voiceless beings. Ahead,
a young teen walks his frantic
puppy, lifts a song
in a surprise of depth
and I am moved by his
bold melody, the words indistinct
but clearly we praise together.

Inspired by: Tape, Handsome, Spiritual and Vendition.



He repeats Thunderbolts and lightning
perfect pitch, his father listening to Queen

last night the clear antecedent
to the upbeat jumbled serenade.

Dear Goddess, this child can sing!
We discover the resonance above stairs

accidentally. He’s tricked me into
descending first, and doesn’t follow.

I’m a singer, too, so I sink
into acoustics Alone Again, Naturally,

filling the air with pure angst.
Behind me softly, I’m coming,

ascending a whole note and increasing
volume each time he takes a step

until at last he sits beside me,
hugging, trilling, I’m he-ee-ee-ere!

and by now he’s beyond his second
octave, the space acclaiming

this gorgeous bright tone, the
passion and authority.  He’s stepped

beyond his three years into the well
of his full being, balancing us

with pure presence, the essence
of our joyful impromptu duet.

Inspired by: Upbeat, Jumble, Queen and Antecedent.  And these two songs. (Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, and Alone Again Naturally by Gilbert O’Sullivan.)