The sun lifts above the horizon
an orange ball intense in its glow
turning golden as it rises
Smoky skies lock in the scathing
heat that boils our blood, melting
glacial ice and mountain snow
Breaking into chunks of ice that
dwindle, leaving the earth adrift
while even the oceans swelter
In the evening, the crimson sun
becomes a seething inferno as it
slips into the realm below.
With a climate gone crazy we suffer
what we have created, no longer denying
that we knew, yes, we knew.
Around me, this
Broad, bold, benevolent
Circle of gratitude
Daily reminding of the
Ever-giving nature of the universe
Forming concentric circles of
Grace in abundance for
Healing and revival, an
Infinite source of
Joy and peace
Knitted together to form a
Life rich and revelatory from each
Morning’s first light to each
Night’s dusky stillness
Observing the lyrical
Perpetuation of a pure gentle hum
Quieting your mind to its
Resting state, feeling the
Soul lightening
Touch of the Divine offering
Unending guidance in your
Visioning of tomorrow and tomorrow
Worlds of possibilities and unbounded
eXaltation of the now and
You, as you return to your center, your
Zen
* Abecedarian Poem
worn thin silk long enough to trip me
loose sash tied at the hips
unusable sleeves unsewn at the seams
as the cast of many who’ve worn it before
left damp and discarded
on my lavishly heated tile bathroom floor
The perfect perfume for any morning revere
with the wrens and chickadees,
the cardinals and goldfinch,
and from across the yard,
because they’re not a fan
of cracked corn and sun seeds,
robins, scratching for grubs in the garden.
True to their name, they sing.
True to their nature, they fly.
True to myself, I take a moment here.
There is no deep woods where the mosquitoes don’t bite.
I must return to mine own upon the last sip of my coffee.
Drive along an interstate stretch
in a state of continuous improvement.
Slowed and winnowed into one lane,
your speed is set by
a grunting Peterbilt ahead.
Separating lanes of coming and going
are the tapered Jersey barriers
where you glance to see the weeds,
thistle and teasel,
stretching up from the bottom.
Marestail finds a millimeter
of weakness, a crack in the seam
to push through the mix of rock and
cement with ferocious intent.
What work they do before they
ever get to light! Grasping to root
in packed soil only to be labeled
invasive and nuisance,
a failure of the paved order.
Targets of programs with
mowers and chemicals to kill them,
the weeds adapt.
They keep coming back,
just keep coming back.
Problem is we’re not going to get
any better without help.
There are always people that take
advantage, but we have always
seen that they are few and far between.
The rules of coexisting have been
thrown out by one side. How else
can you produce a trillionaire?
By ignoring the pleas of the helpless,
the unhoused, the hungry, to fill
a dangling maw that will never
be sated. No one person should
ever hold so much power, just like
no one person can do anything
about it. Stop fighting with
each other and work toward
a better future for all 8 billion
of us. Ants rise up. Eat the rich.
I write
but cannot escape
the urge to edit
to purge words
to play the censor.
I analyze
analyze
analyze
yet recognize
that analyze begins
with anal.
deterioration is
the bask of good sleep
every three years
yielded to a
tyranny of energy
with no space
outlet
person
purpose
we wake rested, thankful for a moment,
nerves finally calmed
then, the terror at having good energy without a container to put it in
before ATP e v a p o r a t e s
as the last canna lily finally blooms
beyond rickety storm door window
while we collapse
They’ve got the range
Find them witty find them woeful
Find them haughty find them humble
See their words precise, incanting
See them falling in a tumble
Hear them scream like crows in flight
High away from any land
Listen to their quiet whispers
How they shift like desert sands
Ponder on their wilds and windows
On their war and on their peace
Imagining gore, red or bloodless
Or spring’s fluffy, baby geese
Poets expounding on their city
The campus streets aflush with cars
The gingko trees, historic buildings
And pasts that brought us where we are
