Thursday, April 16, 2020

to a Child dancing in the Wind

DANCE there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?

Has no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn'd?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned,
I could have warned you, but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.

O you will take whatever's offered
And dream that all the world's a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.

// W.B. Yeats (1865-1939) Responsibilities and Other Poems, 1916.

Expecto matronum

the past 7 and the next 7 years
labor & love

Hans said you're like a bird, and your thought/decision process like firecrackers.
"... but while you're there we appreciate the beauty of your flight, and the delicacy of the wings that ... soar aloft, and we can continue the metaphor much further than it should go, allows you to go places that we can't follow but we can appreciate the fact that you're enjoying the flight... (hilarious, I receive that) We do enjoy the momentary aligning when you perch on our shoulders and the song that you sing while you're there, and then we just hope it's not too long before you land again..."

I thanked Seda for pointing the middle way 13 years ago, and holding my sights, from the beginning to love and honor and be satisfied with the length of that life. She had said butterfly ... And when there's two middle ways? Choose the harder of the two ways (E.E.).

The NYC years will always be precious -- for the gift of separation and self-hood that entered me into the freedom of self-giving, long and deep and wide, of love for neighbor, the fun, the feasts, the revelry, the Church. 

thank You for wings. Yours and mine.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Further Up the Stream of Consciousness

it is not the past as such that produced the present or poses the conditions for the future . . . but the way we think about it. Or even more pertinently, the way in which we deal with it in language.

(Brink, 1998: 33)

Thursday, March 21, 2019


out of the dark
dust off the earth
swarming in the sunbeam
murmurating miracle
kissed to life
my happy feet

Friday, March 8, 2019

Hineni:. behold, Me!

Where You Are
Is sacred

the profane

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

NDA's are a tool of oppression

silencing, and erasure.
they are against public policy.

displaceable tenants in a vapidly vanishing world
walking tightropes through histories not our own
permitted to leave no trace, take up no space

 they've bound you to an altar
 fuel for their falsehoods
 sacrifice and offering you do not desire, 
 but You have given me an open ear 
 burnt offering and sin offering 
 You have not required. 

 where is the book of life?
 attendance is taken. your name is pronounced,
as if for the first time.
 then i said, Here i am;
 in the scroll of the book
it is written of me.

where are you remembered? where is your heart re-corded?
 gather me into your story and tell truly of your handiwork.
 psalm 40 
  many days i would rather
   be a done deed
a dying sacrifice
   than a living offering
work in progress
with sealegs off
 the ark bringing all
your heart soul mind strength
 to look again
 Behold, I Am
making all things Now

Sunday, December 16, 2018


whetstone sisyphus thrusts
for gods to sharpen and smooth
mountain sages tongues

holy heyoka

I am
infinite jest, garrulous with silence.
My heart is a wound
from battering through prison walls
called rib cages
guarding red herrings
called hearts.

// Gary McGee