Something Sturdier Than Shiny Hope

painting-with-light-1044985_960_720I’m not going to speak of shiny hope
it has troubled us for too long
tripping us down the stairs
leaving the bruises that stick around
we want to jump over truth straight to hope
that we bought in the marketplace of shadows
that’s why it has no legs
and will collapse as soon as it gets out of bed
we can’t get there without touching the ground

let’s stop jumping
start crawling
stop running
start digging
stop chasing
start creating

and then, if grief and all its cousins
should arrive
embrace them like long lost loved ones
When the lights turn off
will we stumble
or will we have learned to believe
in our own breathe
and the dirt under our feet?
will we have practiced how to say hello?
we need something sturdier than shiny hope
exchange it
for the eyes of your own dawn
looking earth in the face
saying, “I remember you”
mix the kernel of your true heart
a spark in the vastness
with the clay of where you live
deep with dreams

My Joy Has No Reason

IMG_6316There are reasons for my grief
the list is short but deep
a story for a rainy day

there are reasons my eyes turn red
and narrow like a laser
but that’s a different poem

and the fears, my dear little friends
have their splendid enemies,
blind assassins in the night

But my joy!
ah, my joy
has no reason
and flees at the thought

But rather arises
bright and improbable
like sequoia, a giant from the smallest seed
Or the morning star before dawn

House Meeting Under the Oak

IMG_6204I had my first house meeting with my new roommates. The purpose was to get to know each other and discuss respective chores.

In attendance: rabbit, deer, quail, fern, hawk, bay tree, redwood, madrone, spider, oak, snake, bat, thistle, poison oak, wind, beetle, butterfly, and walnut. Fox came late.

Absent: Owl, possum, raccoon. (being nocturnal, they have a tough time with morning meetings). I hope they’ll read the minutes.

Turns out moon was there the whole time, but I didn’t see her-she had her new moon coat on.

This is by far the largest home I’ve lived in and by far the most housemates I’ve ever had. In fact, so many that I haven’t yet met them all, but I hope to in the coming months.

Opened with an ice breaker: What’s your favorite thing about fall? And what’s the
silliest thing you’ve done this year?
Decision by consensus: We will each be ourselves and allow the other to be themselves.

Fall Away

c244ac380594f873912364f47ef5f1d7--autumn-leaves-autumn-fall (1)In a world struggling desperately to find some semblance of balance and to integrate the shadows, may we receive the blessings of the Fall Equinox.Β πŸƒπŸ‚

Hover here for a moment
feeling the balance
between darkness and light
between drawing within
and explosive expression

harvest your juicy
sun-soaked fruits
perhaps too easily procured

honor the growing shadow
it’s okay to grieve
the dry and dying

relish the transition
and let the leaves no longer needed
flitter to the floor
limbs to feel
all the more lighter

Loyal to the Earth

IMG_6219I want my words to be loyal to the earth

a celebration
like the spots on a fawn
prancing through new pine
or a new dawn dancing past the night

I want my words to be as soft as a bunny’s butt
and feather grass
smooth as madrone skin
a woman’s inner thigh

Yet also, I want them to be as hard as wild walnuts
tough as granite breaking feet
and egos
deadly serious like a lightning strike splitting spruce
climate chaos
carrying away the normal
on waves beyond control
as prickly as a yellow jacket
or poison oak, that’ll leave you itching for weeks

Words that wake you up
like a cold splash of mountain creek on your morning face

I want them to lead you gently into the arms of your DreamGiver
an owl’s hoot under dark skies

But also startle the rut mind
like a buck launching from the brush
Or a bright red snow plant popping up among the ice cups
in the fir forest,
an eager phallic invitation to Spring

a surprise double rainbow after the thunder storms,
when “OMFG!” seems the right response

I want my words to be stained purple from picking wild blackberries
and juicy plums in June,
Or sexy like a peach rose opening
borage bringing all the bees to the yard

I want them to allow the wind to blow through
its invisible currents carrying secret scents
tickling the hair on your forearms

above all, I want them to grow from the soil,
telling truth, loyal to the earth


Tell the Truth About the Season


fall leavesIt is important to tell the truth about the season.
You can try to live summer in the winter
Or morning at midnight under the full moon
but eventually, the season is revealed.

It’s Fall.
The world takes a deeper breath
and a sacred pause

It’s raining yellow bay leaves and brown needles
in the redwoods
they’ve slipped on their autumn coats overnight
dropping yesterday
to the ground like an old story
that no longer makes sense

They know when to let go
offering the best of their beauty
as gifts to the land
and the next season,
each leaf an invitation
to follow our own turning

It’s Fall.

The world takes a deeper breath
and a sacred pause
to peer backward and forward
a moment of transition

We will harvest the things that can be harvested
But we know the things that must fall must fall
for the new ground to be prepared
with the composted remains
of what no longer serves

It’s Fall. Can we finally tell the truth about the season?

In the midst of the big race,
the world takes a deeper breath
and a sacred pause
while the leaves of the empire fall out of our hair

You know of which empire I speak
the one whose summer’s shoulders brought
great gifts: all bright and fast and furious
and juicy and sexy and convenient.
And more. It always brought more.
whether the more was what we needed or not

But it promised too much
and took too much
and now the Great Descent has commenced
the Great Unraveling has arrived

There will be a buttoning up
a shrinking of the afternoon
a shedding

It’s a moment to tell the truth about.

Perhaps we fear winter
because we don’t yet see what new spring awaits
but press your ear to the ground
of your being
and you will hear:

seeds of the new dream
already planted
in the soil of our gentle, beating hearts
seeds of belonging
planted in Deep Time

and we know
there’s no way to spring
but through the lengthening dark and cold
and wet and unknowing

Let’s tell the truth: it’s Fall.

The world takes a deeper breath
and a sacred pause
and if we allow it,
so do we