Looking at the wild shrub
I chose not to cut down.
The one the Cherokees called
“hearts bursting with love”
Its pink fleshy pods
Open to reveal five seeds
of the most outrageous orange

The shrub has several stalks
Only one is overwhelmed
with those vibrant fruits
The stalk that is obviously dying

Sacrificing its own self
To feed the fruit more profligately
The children joyously
Consume their mother

Have you ever noticed
The fruitfulness of death
The tree or shrub
That creates wildly
In the days of its own destruction?

Birth and Death are Yin and Yang
The end of each always
The beginning of the other

People are no different
They too feel the chill
And seek to find a purpose
Before they perish

It is then
They plumb the depths of being
For perhaps the first time
In their entire lives

Mark the profundity
The leering crowd hopes to hear  
In the condemned man’s words
Right before the hangman
Springs the trap

Friends and lovers all in one
Could such a thing be real?
Our rabbits cried then dared and tried
And ripped apart the veil

We lay before a holy fire
One “Om” our souls revealed
But when we stopped because of fear
Perhaps our fate was sealed
Like peter on the water walked
just ‘til his faith was stilled

Since then we’ve hopped, started and stopped
Searching for that “Om”
Two rabbits loped, two rabbits hoped
To find their happy home

We lay in bed and smugly said
Stopping that “om” was wise
Just do the math -the solid path
Requires such compromise

Plod round the mountain step by step
Don’t leap from Cliffs of stone
A leap of faith is too much risk
Half loaf’s better than none
Friend and lover though both are good
Relent and choose just one

And so we did -we played it safe
And this is where we are
Our love is cleft and all that’s left
Is this ugly scar

A text from you hopes just for friends
After the wounds have healed
Have mercy on our suffering souls
Let the love be killed

But having tasted friend and lover
To live with less than both?
Be satisfied that Jesus lied
Seek neither truth nor troth

I’d rather choose all win or lose
Einstein would roll God’s dice
On wings set sail or if we fail
I’d rather pay that price

So I will tend that hurtful wound
No matter how it feels
I need a lover and a friend
I hope it never heals

Oh I will not be constant
The pain is hard to stay
Run hot and cold ‘til I am old
Come back then run away

But though I can’t make up my mind
And it may never cease
I know that you are truly kind
Hope’s better than release

There is really no such thing as truth
For if there were
Then there must be lies

There is only that one thing called fear
If you doubt it
Stop and hear our cries

There is really no such thing as right
For if there was,
Then there must be wrong

There is only that one thing called power
If you doubt it
Try telling truth to strong

There is really no such thing as love
For if there were
Then there must be hate

There is only that one thing called need
If you doubt it
Convert me to your faith

There is really no such thing as life
As long as we all
Claw and strain and strive

There is only that one thing called strife
If you want to live
Quit trying to survive

evening comes by the lake
reflecting the cloud and trees
my mind also a mirror of all things

i saw the google car today
i hear the crane coarse cry
once and then again
he starts this time every night

on the dock
a man made four square thing
surrounded by its opposite
the water so unshaped unformed

a fish jumps at the flies
then another and another
there are countless ripples
too far away to hear but not to see

darker now
the redbird’s song joins in
that last of the day birds to sing before the dark

swallows in the air slide and swoop and glide

the crane again
each creature an instrument
singing to the dying day

but what about the google car
it drives itself you know
i called my aged mother and explained to her as i drove past it
amazing how the world is changing

the bullfrog has joined us now
and the bat replaces the swallow
darting ever here and there
i wish him luck since his meal is devouring me

but the google car
what is it devouring?
technology devouring man and nature

i sit here in the midst of wilderness
with my laptop, wifi card and cell phone
am i connected of just swallowed?

there is no car and driver any more
the car is the driver
or is it that the driver is the car?

the crane again
in the background the traffic of the interstate
so prevalent and ubiquitous that it seems to not exist

because everywhere and nowhere are the same
there can be no thing, no thought, no word
without something outside it to define it

and what defines us
our skin?
or are we now beyond that

with the laptop etc extending my reach
i can share all this right now
with just the click of a send button

but still something is missing
i wish a bag of bones were here
so we could talk

converse in that old fashioned way
like old men on the bench
outside a country store

what would we say, that bag of bones and i?
all this and more, much more
and there would be silence without discomfort
to punctuate the meaning of the words
outside to their inside
defining them

a tree frog joins the chorus
just for once
but i know he will not be able to resist
hearing again and again
how beautiful he sounds

night creatures now
my laptop screen am unresistable attraction
to the tiny bugs
beating themselves mercilessly against it

so dark now
i cannot see the keyboard
only the screen
and woe, i never was one to type
without looking at the screen

smashed a mosquito now
feeling so powerful

a star appears
but it is only a jet
coming my way

what is it bringing
to this cyborg scene
gobbling up the gas and air
heating up the globe

the night is so alive
sound increases
inversely proportioned to the light
bullfrog again

and now the first time cricket
or is it cicada
lying in the ground for all those years
waiting to be resurrected
like the spiritus mundi
slouching toward bethlehem to be born

There he is
On the side of the road
Healthy looking, as though asleep
A dog you would choose at the pound.

So why this?
Dumped like some too heavy load.
Good, but for blood starting to seep
Like sacrament onto the ground.

Who will miss  
Him in the trunk secretly stowed?
Some child who starts to weep?
Til told he’s lost – and might be found.

Lying kiss
“He’s okay.” her father vowed
Is this why he’s left in a heap
No telltale grave that might be found?

Come sit with me
Or better yet alone
Be a vessel
The universe one eye
A black hole
******* in sensation

Make no noise
Be unspeakable
With not just mouth but mind
Seek and you will find

Little ballerinas both
Tiny yet tenacious
Holding firm to their beliefs
With hearts especially spacious.

I see how they have lived their lives
As parent and as child.
One’s love seemed a smothering thing-
The other’s freedom wild.

Through the years how much it hurt
To hold each other close.
Tiny ballerinas trampling
On each other’s toes.

But the pain was worth the price
These ballerinas paid.
Through all the years and all the tears
A meeting place they made.

A meeting place to marvel at
That lies within their look.
The look that lies within their eyes
In this picture that I took.



Ballerinas Two

They came my home this Christmas time
far off the beaten path.
Two wise women, studying still
God and Grandfather’s math.

They came into my heart and hearth
with gifts of small expense,
marshmallows and chocolate
not gold and frankincense

But Beauty lies in little things
Like S’mores making stuff
and little ballerinas
who’ve learned how to be tough.
And so their gifts while little
were much more than enough.

They came and pieced a puzzle
bright birds on a log.
The young one’s neck I nuzzle.
The old one feared the dog.

We broke the fast together
partook of bread and wine.
Body and blood, bacon and eggs
mixed earthly and divine.

We watched the sound of music
all sitting on the couch-
three dogs and three people
in everloving touch.

I sighed he’d lost his first love
then turned his heart to stone.
Losing one was losing all-
his children left alone.

Then came this lovely lady
to help, to heal his lack.
With push and pluck
with love and luck
she brought the music back.


So just as art imitates life
according to Aristotle.
This movie resonates with ours.
Shall we unchoke the throttle?

Lean and like and lust to learn?
Let go, let hurt, let heal?
Dance the dance that they have danced?
Let loose?
Let love be real?