Wednesday, December 19, 2018

More Belovedness

His main point was
N O T     T O 
sell anything 

- nor was he the perfect
pattern preacher for us 
to try to imitate

He did not do what he 
did so everyone would
think he was wonderful

He thinks we are wonderful -
how flipped is that? 

a n d    b e s t    o f     a l l 

before becoming
this adult who 
met with
ate with 
and taught
the hordes of common people
and denounced and exposed
the high and mighty 
religious ones

he was the first Christmas Morning ~  

.... "For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. The Messiah. Our Creator. 

He did what he did and lived how he lived so first and foremost we would know and experience being beloved. That is the all of it. He wants us with him forever.  

And Mary, did you know the one you delivered would someday deliver you? And us? 

Emmanuel. God with us. 

(Mary Did You Know, Emmanuel, and Oh Holy Night are my favorite Christmas Carols. After all these years I still ponder the lyrics and never tire of them. They are still wonder producing.) 

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

How Does a Pilgrim Progress?

She slogs
not around

She rises
from falling

She brushes
the mud

She binds
her wounds

She asks
help and healing

She wants

She practices

She sees

She wipes
tears away

She progresses
because of

Friday, September 14, 2018


She wears 
a pensive face
under a turban
all her thoughts
inside her brain
so it won't explode
exuberant ideas
that shout 
for release 

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Wasted By Pornography

Is it worth it? You spill your strength
 - it pulses into an open palm
lined with tissue absorbing
your milky manhood
aroused by that one dimensional
girl who always smiles

(because to get paid
or get the next hit to numb
the hopeless shame she can't
escape from -
she has to paste on
a smile for the money shot -
no matter what painful degradations
or horrific atrocities
she is experiencing as you watch
with pleasure.)

Young man,
after your quick and easy
release -

do you wonder if you are a coward
to waste it, your magnificent manhood?
Your lack of ambition for wooing
and winning one of those
complicated, intricate,
fascinating girls

is her great loss

and the world's.

Monday, November 6, 2017

Prayer For Moving To A New Town

At fifty seven years old
I look back at all the botched
relationships I'm partially responsible
for, and weep.

It makes me treasure the ones
who've stood by all the high maintenance
and high passions with durable

These are strange years -
such unfamiliar social
cultures we're living through.

I miss the old family gatherings when
everyone held an instrument
or used their voice to sing or

The laughter from the retold
and the tears from sad lyrics handed down
gave me security as I fell asleep
wrapped up in soft

I miss crowded homes with
tables heavy with
sustenance and comfort.

I miss simple. I miss old fashioned fun.

I'm lonely, but not bored,
nor uncomfortable being alone.
They say creative ones are
never bored - but where
is the companionship
that the internet can't
supply? Skin to touch and
eyes to look into? Contagious
smiles to reflect? Where do I find
the other lonely ones?

Where do I find friendship
if I am tired of sitting in
a pew looking at the back
of people's heads - and bars
and clubs don't excite me ?

New town, please
utilize what I have to offer -
find me a few good friends
who might enjoy someone
who is still learning how to
be a friend?

New town, keep me from winter
kill. I beg you, please allow spring
to resurrect me tender and green.
Let me take root in a wild,
riotous border - bursting with color
and welcoming scent.

Saturday, November 4, 2017


Every fall 
I try to change
my mind about
rain - talking myself 
out of dread 
and reframing it 
as being a desirable thing
to celebrate and relish. 
An annual epiphany 
I must revisit often -
since I live in the Pacific
Northwest close to a Rain 
Forest on an island 
where rain 
Water of any kind 
makes me happy. 
Rain is water. 
This equation needs
embossed on my brain. 
I raise my arms to welcome
rain today, tomorrow
and the day after - 
like the mighty cedar

Friday, November 3, 2017

Pertaining To Coming Home and Moisture

All things estival have come to a swift

Leaves falling crisp in the Rockies
follow me back home to soggy - where
blackbirds hunch shoulder to shoulder
drip, drip on a dripping high wire.

A statuesque blue heron
stands knee deep and still in high tide
blending into slate blue skies.

The inside of my dry, cracked nose welcomes
the drizzle.

I have front row parking
on the ferry. My thirsty skin,
eyes and heart want the windshield
barrier gone - it keeps me from the salt spray.
The freezing wind makes me thankful for it.

Logs float on the chop. I hope to
spot a seal's watchful eyes.

Ahhh ...
the absolute relief of being at one
again with salt water.

**(My friend Susan read this and asked if I'd seen Blue Mind In the Desert Ted Talk by Wallace J. Nichols.) I hadn't. Yet. It is fantastic. I just ordered his book and will find a blue marble to remind me....

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Summing It Up

Isak Dinesen begins with "I had a farm in Africa...."

I once had gardens fruiting and flowering, a porch swing, and a beachy home where a selkie could feel perfectly at home whilst land locked.

Now, my love and I come home sweat grimed, looking like coal miners. Some days we speed to work on a boat to another island and pile into a van loaded with sweaty men who know how to work and make road problems vanish. They execute delicate maneuvers with monster machines. Artistic flourishes with dirt, gravel and oil? Yes.

Life is different, inconvenient and awkward now. We are camping out in a teeny-tiny studio. This is what it's come down to. I puzzle over why I'm not completely miserable? Why am I so comfortable?

Maybe it's because the tent out in the yard has been up all summer and occupied with people who want to come visit? Or perhaps it's the porpoises, whales, starfish, and beach glass I find? Or how I'm learning to fish? Or the eagles and blue herons that fly by, curious? Is it Tessa's picturesque garden she shares with me? Maybe it's the smell of salt water coming in on the breeze, or the rhythm of living with the tides?

What will I remember fondly about this year, in ten years? I don't think it was what Isak Dinesen had that made her life story a riveting one, it was everything pulsing around the experience and adventure of that farm in Africa.

Thursday, June 22, 2017