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rain down on me
let it pour
let my skin repel
every icy drop
of water that fell

Let it
blow gusts of wind
let it knock down branches
let my curly hair do dances
in the storm

Let it
burn me, the sun
till I’ve blisters
let them fill
and with my fists, sirs
I’ll pop everyone
as if it bubblegum

Let it
snow, a blooming blizzard
slapping my face
hard as a lizard
billowing gusts of powdery dust
let it climb past my door
I’ll bore a tunnel through it
crawling out the other side
where the ocean meets the sky
She wanted the
pans handed to
her a certain way.

I gave them to
her the wrong way,
and in her superior
voice, she said,
"I'm tired of telling you,
handles lined up,
pans facing down.
I will give them
back to you if it's
not the right way!"

I made $5.15 an hour,
my pants and shirt
were dripping wet.
I bit my tongue.

I knew she was no
chef.
Cooking is an
art, but she was too
bunched up to
understand that.
I could have outcooked
her, no matter how she
handed me the pans.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7n3PXaA5szQKvZ8VlkcxTA

Check my youtube channel out.
Santa comes overnight and leaves stuff.
Sleep. Dream of toys and candy canes.
Tomorrow never seems to come.
We barely sleep and meet at 4 am.
We kids gather at the top of the stair to strategize.
5 am we send a soldier to wake mom and dad.
They are defeated and beg for 10 minutes.
In 20 minutes the living room has erupted
in Xmas. Wrapping paper and ribbons
have adorned this happy home.
It's as close to perfect we'll know.
Outside the window falls the snow.
another year passes by you

the sadness in your
eyes

like old newspapers
blowing down
a deserted street

the hunger in your voice
drifting between
a laugh and a scream

and your troubled heart
forever
chasing light
down a dead end street

we searched for meaning
in the shadows of dreams

What happen to the nights
when we only wondered
what tomorrow could bring?
“Look for the soul,
you become soul;
Hunt for the bread,
you become bread
Whatever you look for,
you are.”   – Rumi

A glorious magenta thistle blossom
a humpback whale breaching
a haiku by my friend John
a kitten swatting at a bouncing string
a silent moment just sitting peacefully
Debussy’s La Mer
a giggling baby
a golden leaf falling from oak.
This morning I had a moment meditating that brought tears to my eyes. It felt like drops from heaven. As I wrote the above piece, I thought of Rumi and looked over on my bookshelf spying a decorative box: “The Card and Rumi Book Pack.” I took it down and opened it. Inside the book cover was a well written affirming inscription from the one who had gifted me this beautiful volume in 2001 upon my reception of an “excellence in teaching” award. It was from Valerie, a former student who is Native American. She ended her remarks with “Aho!” a Kiowa word that means thank you. I opened the book and turned to a tabbed page and read this quote from Rumi: “ At every moment, Love’s voice talks to us from left and from right, all we have to do is to know how to listen.”
My ego is the Universe's tallest tower. I can't see myself from that vantage point!
A beer or two for courage.
More might fuel the rage.
I stand before my lovers
dolls on a table of others
I read my confessions now
I'll ask your forgiving
some can some don't know how
bitter and still angry living.
Like a broken
Empty dollhouse
Fully exposed for everyone see
Walls down
Fascinated
I peer inside...
And there is nothing
But sad loneliness
A giant 200 year old tree fell on a beautiful two story home I admired for years and now they are tearing it down. It was very eerie seeing inside the empty home. All the front walls were gone.  It looked helpless.
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