Love

Sometimes it's not easy
to say what you mean

Heaven and Earth and everything in it
My sons and my parents and my brother and friends
Humans and other animals
The stars that I know and don't know

Everything limited and limitless

Words that I have and don't have

And what can't be put into words

That is sensible
and cannot be sensed

The sun setting behind the Golden Gate bridge
Geese flying overhead in formation
Wings flapping together like clockwork

Like the Subtle Blue

Like the subtle blue
of the sky
between me and the mountain
snagging the sunlight
words trip
between the edge of my mind
and the page

Ten Things That Will Make Your Life Happier

Smile often
especially when
someone is looking
they might smile back
especially when
nobody's looking
and it's your secret smile
that you smile to yourself

Dance as though nobody's watching

Don't judge
when you judge others
you are really
judging yourself
There are no excuses

Make someone happy
Pet a dog
Stroke a cat til it purrs
Give your friend a big hug
or a stranger
notice something nice about someone
to them

Let yourself be loved
it's not who
it's how

Don't worry
decide
you can change your mind later

There is a subtle difference between
thinking and worrying
think things through
unemotionally
from the perspective of
a stranger
sitting at the end of time

You are not so important

Open your mind
be curious

Be a creature of change
and habit

Hike

At the end of our trail
a waterfall roars
into the shucking waves

Others continue
beneath sandstone cliffs
risking the tide

A small bird
comes right up to me
begging for cheesecrumbs

It doesn't care so much
about the view

Haiku

The shapes of birds
right outside my window
fly across the setting sun

Turkey Mass

The turkey now a formless mass
of meat and stuffing in a tray
that fits in the refrigerator
a deconstructed holiday

Winter Trees

The grey of winter trees
that glasses can't resolve

The trail a river of fallen leaves
hiding slippery roots and rocks

Vanilla Dream

The taste of vanilla in my mouth
from the vanilla flavored tea
makes me wonder what I might have dreamt
were it the truffle oil instead

Underwater

You put a pretty crab in my clumsy hand
I try to set it down gently
almost touching a giant halibut that swims away
startling me
I was supposed to learn to read the compass
but I trust you

Homage to the Tao Te Ching

Heaven and Earth do not exist alone
Rivers flow through them, through us
Without Earth we would be formless
Water with no direction
Without the heavens - air, moon, sunlight
There would be no force to push the current
Coursing through our veins
Without us
The Universe would continue
Unregarded
Wordless

Scuba Dive

The sun sets pink clouds ablaze
I am haunted by dreams of my father
not being in the right place at the right time
as I discover this new underwater world
filled with strange silence and animals
I realize in all those TV shows
I never imagined myself in the diver's body
cold and wet and lugubrious
trying to connect with the magic
through my eyes

Flailing

A protest without an agenda
Spiritual but not religious
Science has robbed us of meaning
And we are flailing about in the dark
Not saints or rebels
But fish out of water

Avoiding Attachment

You wade out in the shallow water
wanting to let go of the ground
as your eyes swim toward me
and we kiss
I wonder now
if you were already letting go
of me in that moment
but it's ok if you get attached
I won't let you drown
though drowning in shallow water is possible
we'll both move on and find other people
because that's the nature of these things
regardless
we're not so important
I love you and your touch and the sun on my skin
and I hope you love something

Sharing Lunch

You know, we are actually having a lunch date
?
I'm eating lunch as we text
Can I have a bite?
Sure
[image of forkful hanging over salad bowl]
Yummy
Thanks!

Up and Down

There is comfort in up
the sun rising each morning
looking up to the boss
of this elite high-ranking firm
even though I stroke his ego
to keep him from falling on me
because up is like sunshine
like light
and I am down here
swimming in freezing cold water
in the dark
there is a crack of light
but I'm terrified
you will close the door
and I'll be left all alone
in the dark
with myself
not even seeing
my own reflection
so I close the door
I don't trust you to save me
I cry because my light will never shine
and my tears drown my torch

Dark Lady to Mr. Shakespeare Sonnet I

He thinks he loves me but he knows not love
For if t'were love he would not so complain
I keep him from himself, be speaking of
My countless faults that he deigns to disdain
If it were love he'd look me in the eye
Our cheeks would redden and our hearts would melt
As our lips fastened and the world went by
The wayside, no more caring how we felt
To me he is a God, a gentleman
More than a God, a kind and glorious soul
A courteous lover and a brilliant man
Lacking but the gift to love me whole
He knows love. You can see it in his plays
Would that this knowledge my poor heart allays

Occupy Wall Street

Money is only worth
what people will pay

Power is only worth
what people will take

So many people
wanting

Seven Princes

Seven princes went to woo
Seven princesses decked with jewels
One gave his bride a diamond ring
Another a diamond mine and jeweler
A third gave his bride a land rich with gold
With milk and honey and fields of wheat
Another an army all equipped
To conquer any land she desired
The fifth gave his bride a university
Where the brightest minds knew no earthly bounds
The sixth said my kingdom is all yours
I bow to you
The last prince said
I need your love

Garden Sanctuary

I wonder for a moment if it was a dream
tall green canopies branching overhead
water steaming off puddles in the sun
trees shaking cool raindrops on my warm skin
the smell of wet leaves and fresh grass
maybe the silence reminded me of this

Second Spring

The plants are happy
this Indian summer
like a second spring
warm sunshine on the muddy trail
cold seasoned buds unfurling
new green leaves
butterflies

Albany Beach

City half covered with fog
Sun shining on water
Waves tickle the sand
Dogs, pelicans, people

Kissing Gate

Like meeting for the first time
and finding in each other
a long lost friend or lover
as though we could kiss forever
without words
words come to me in dreams
you are my flower garden

Dancing

Dancing we become like stars
stretching out to our full potential
like a hand filling a glove
or a glove fitting a hand
shining separately
joined by mystical constellations
is it any wonder we forget our names
at the weekly picnic
when we have forgotten ourselves
and remembered what we are

Anatomy

Now I have a system
for thinking about
potential movements
of the human body

Flexion, extension, rotation
muscles and joints

Can I make a system
to classify
movements of the mind?

Question, reflection, recollection

And how would I define
a leap across the unknown
a grand jeté
a cartwheel
a handspring?

I leap over your shoulder
to hand-balance on your thigh
assisted by another.

Change

Leaves tumble across the quiet street
Majestic clouds swarm the clear blue sky
hurling rain as though
the old must be washed out
to make way for the new

I wish I knew
how to work the magic in the air
it hovers there
just beyond my reach

Fallibility of the Infinite Monkey Theorem Applied to Online Dating

You might think the internet
makes the improbable
merely infrequent
by increasing
the number of encounters
but what if
I wanted Shakespeare
and all I get
is five pages of monkeys
repeatedly hitting
the letter 's'

OkCupid

Our loves like the Greek Gods'
fleeting infatuations
between different species
I was so naive
to think we could all be friends
maybe it doesn't matter
what I write at all
just that I'm out there
and you're out there
Do I want you to read my mind?
Do I want to read yours?

Hot Pool

The hot water soothes my body
as though it were aching
makes my heart beat faster, stronger
I must immerse myself fully
push up on the side to sink my head
blow bubbles
come up slowly
I sit on the ledge
waiting for the world to stop spinning
so I can go lie on my back and cool
seeing stars that are not there
a cosmic orgasm
splash in the cold pool
and do it again

Warm Pool

I am so happy in your arms
floating in the warm water
the world melts away

facebook

facebook has erased my mind
dissolved me in the cyber out there
like a thousand million others
i float aimlessly
on a sea of meaningless but briefly meaningful
images and snippets
where did the time go?
where was my body?
where are my friends?
where is my iPhone?

Autumn in Albany California

My narrow bike wheel crunches through
a patchy frosting of tawn leaves
along San Pablo Avenue

The ornamental pear tree by my door
is prematurely reddish brown

But oh for bright red maple
yellow aspen orange chestnut
real cherries, apples, pears

Not this confusion
of manicured evergreens
with species existing only for
their unscented spring blossoms
and so as not to make a mess

Teaching Yoga

I should have a plan
but I'm just subbing
at the last minute

We work on hip openers
and balancing

You can never get enough

Life is a path
between openness and poise

We rely on each other
for support
but ultimately
we must go alone

I gravitate to soothing words

Notice your breathing in your belly
Allow your body to sink into the floor

as I let my voice briefly
meld into silence

Life as a Game of Chess

Beginner's mind
is no use
only tried and tested
openings will work

king pawn two
a silver spoon

The chess Cinderella found in foster care
made it to the tournament
but didn't fit the crystal shoe

She says she is a diamond in the rough

She wants cutting and polishing

Does she know diamonds cut glass
and stalemates are quite common
between grandmasters?

Leaving

Even if you go
there will still be
nothing

I always knew you were going to
That was the only promise

What if your mum has cancer?
We all leave
sometime

Nothing

What is this nothing
in my head
no feelings, thoughts, ideas
like the grey sky
outside


Where is the horizon?

Words
                     fly

                                                across

t   h   e                  n   o   t   h   i   n   g

Sardine Lake

The wind has a chill edge
I knot my hair and strip fearlessly
feeling nothing
the bog bouncing back up
in my footprints
like ripe dough
feet squishing sulphurous mud

It would have been easier
if it were deeper
or bottom lined with jagged rocks

Eventually I take the plunge
splash out and back
into the icy water
exhilaration comes later
call it survival

Management Fire

After decades of firefighting
to protect the Giant Sequoia
they discovered only fire
clears the brush so it can reproduce

Now they have management fires
scaring us late night tourists
with a wall of smoke
into a motel's lank embrace

Maybe I knew this already
desperately sparking my love for you
with a box of wet matches
in a forest of volatile strangers

Ahwahnee

Evening sun snags Half Dome
like the photographs on our playing cards
the waiter old enough to have served Ansel Adams
the same onion soup
to the sound of Scott Joplin's rag

Tuolumne Meadows

Pines rim the gold plain
I tasted the snow here once
Water clear as air

Nudist Beach

We watch the waves curl
turquoise beneath the sinking sun
standing our ground
as the undertow digs in our heels

The artist draws me from behind
golden, upright
until I tumble, shivering
you like the detail round my bum

I cling to your warm body
while the sun sets
right into the ocean
painting the rocks pink

Bluejay

Bluejay hiked in the long way
with his guitar and turquoise tent
with his bongo drums and small guitar
with a pot and rice and weed
without a lighter
he is happy as can be
to be here
happy that he made it
though the world is ending
and all will be one

Gorgeous Bluejay
playing naked in the stream

Sykes Hotspring

Warm water
Falling stars between the trees
I lie beneath the roots
rubbing your scalp
resting on my chest

We breathe together
the sulphurous air
a home of sorts

Lake Anza in September

Light whooshes across the pond
a wave of tiny fish
reorienting beneath the surface
where circles grow, intersect and vanish

Light shimmers
on the undersides of branches

Students on their day off
dive from the rocks
conversing deeply between land and water
far from the screaming toddlers on the beach

Once I saw a golden trout here
in the stream
today the bridge trembles
as my dog pants in the heat

I taste a sour blackberry
and swim

Night Train Lullaby

The night train plays its droll chant
through open windows
on this warm night
to the town's insomniacs
tossing in their beds
nee naa
whooo
you can sleep now
breathe
nee naa
whooo
toot toot

Cafe Trieste

When I was in love
the cafe was always full
of people, music
it was too crowded, too loud
now I wait for you
one of a lonely row
of women staring into space
and I don't care
my heart is free from longing

Treading Water

Sometimes even treading water
is motion of sorts
it keeps you from drowning

When the eye of the storm is near
and you are tossed hither and thither
torrents clutching at you like cold hands
tugging you down
salt tendrils invading your tender nostrils

Sometimes treading water
is motion even
with your head way above
the clear, warm, tropical calm
deep ocean

It keeps you from drowning

Burning Man Poem V

A thousand years from now
analysing the sad remains
of our benighted civilization
will they consider us the priests
burning these effigies annually in the desert
as we burn through every human hope
in the form of fossil fuel
replacing the dream of freedom
to roam the Earth
with the freedom to follow our friends
on facebook?

Surely if we can build all this
we could build something that lasts

Burning Man Poem IV

From out here
the city is a milky way
of colored lights

It is hard to tell
a shooting star
from fireworks
until
the faint thud
arrives
seconds later

Wind
hushing the raffia sunshades
commands reverence

The burning of the man
a barely noticeable detail

Burning Man Poem III

You are the apple girl
with rosy cheeks and red hair
with alabaster skin
I love the way you appreciate
my touch
your perfect pink nipples
without areolas
curled in my tongue

Burning Man Poem II

When I look in your eyes
there are tears
of remembrance
as though we are each
each other's lost loved one

Burning Man Poem I

I close my eyes and dream of dancing
a dozen rhythms pulsing through my body
my limbs stretch to unimaginable proportions
bending like branches
I flow up and down
wave in the ocean
dust clouds wavering on the breeze
electricity flies
between me and other people

Spent Rose

I dream of climbing empty bookshelves

You hop the fence to open the church door

Is there a difference between union and communion?

We listen to the boats ringing delicately like wind-chimes

But it is too cold to kiss

In the minefield between love and knowledge

Blessing

Something so simple

that we can do for each other

placing hands on the head

the miracle of receiving touch

my mind fills with images

the wings of a dove

beating

sensations 

warmth in my heart

a cold waterfall down my shoulders and spine

a feeling of longing in my belly

if only this could last forever

but soon it’s enough

Old Shoes

I like shoes that look comfortable
People tell me, your shoes look so comfortable
The first pair of these was made in America
I wish I'd bought two, so next time I did
Though they were made elsewhere
And took time to wear in
They were made of cheaper materials
And wore out in two-three years
I left them near the beach
Maybe someone else will wear them
Or hang them from the shoe tree
They'll look comfortable against the sky

Dreamlike

A full moon
Your deep voice
echoing in my ears
more than the words
I know you have a good heart
I take you to the secret garden
We lie naked under the trees
I can't believe how soft your lips are
I have to touch them again
with mine
open my eyes
to be blinded by moonlight
shivering
Was it real?
Was that a firefly
or a shooting star?

Mundane

Life like this labyrinth
follows a predictable path
barely sticking up from the ground
a few dry rocks
weeds growing out of the gravel

You wanted a view?
You must rise above it
to make poetry
out of the ordinary

Maybe Mouse

Maybe it's not our voices
that scare the little mouse
peeping out of his hole
dashing back in

Maybe it's the pondskaters
the blue dragonfly's shadow
or the beating of a hummingbird wing

Maybe it's nothing to do with us

Maybe he's imagining things

Maybe this is just how
a mouse normally goes about
investigating a fascinating root

Philosophy

Philosophy applied to life:
How to reconcile
my cycling mind
with this aging body?

Time

Has it been three years?
Age has touched my friends'
beautiful faces
while I was gone
or looking the other way
softening the skin
crinkling the eyes
worrying the mouths
I know I've been touched
by the same ghost
and I feel sad

San Francisco Summer

The fog doesn't care about us
rolling in from the ocean
day after day
chilling us to the bone
dampening the air
darkening the sky

At best we can climb a mountain
to rise above it
breathing in the damp, coniferous woods
sweating buckets
in the surprising warm sunshine
looking down on the ocean of cloud
that shrouds our unenlightened friends

Ladies' Pond

An oasis of sorts
where we can sunbathe
without the restriction of bras
though not swim topless
splash
quietly
through water
cold enough to make you dizzy
if you put your head in
which most people don't
appreciating instead the waterlilies
and ducks

People in London

People in London
do some things like me
waving thanks to cars
that stop at the crossing
wearing scarves all year round
eating blackberries off bushes
swimming in ponds on the Heath

Sometimes it's nice
not to be too different

March for Whale Freedom

We gather from all over
loosely connected through facebook
we are not all activists
many of us have never marched before
nobody knows what to chant
we are a little shy
hiding behind our placards
Lucy hands the megaphone to Will
who cries 'One planet, one ocean'
as we pass Trafalgar Square
and I realize the whale is a sangraal
we are exercising our own freedom to care
when our protected freedoms
are being trampled by rogue fishers
our pirate ship impounded
that was cutting the nets
our faces photographed by tourists
but everyone likes whales

Dolphins and Whales

Dolphins and whales delight us
leaping in and out of the waves
tracing a smile over the horizon

How can we hunt them for food
trap them in our fishing nets

Their freedom reminds us of
                  the wild side of ourselves
Singing their long ballads
                  beyond the edge of our hearing

Tallinn Again

The photographer must have woken early
to capture Tallinn so unpeopled in summer
even seven or thirteen years ago

Last summer I would have wondered
if you were just around her lens,
I asked you for advice about this city where you'd been
wanting something from you I didn't really need

Now I look at your picture and feel nothing
beyond nothing, the absence of an extra heartbeat

Maybe like Tallinn I am more timeless empty
but writing this my eyes prickle with tears

If All Thinking Stopped

If all thinking stopped today
nobody would die
we wouldn't suddenly start killing one another
carelessly spreading diseases
falling off bridges
or causing economic collapse
we do that already
but we must think clearly
to maximize the freedom of others
tethered to their Gods, apetites and fears
because people choose only
from the options they see
to spread reason is to open their eyes

Where Cloud Meets Glacier

Where cloud meets glacier
there is a little pink
in this land of green and blue
an eternal kiss
because the earth's crust folds
casting shadows on itself
higher places on lower ones
but sometimes
by a big expanse of turquoise fjord
a window
catches a glint of evening sun
that the mountains have let through

Traveling Through Norway

Tunnels snail up and down mountains
from the inside

I wonder how people reached these lone farms
before the road?

Maybe they were sufficient
having wood for fire
salmon and elk to smoke for winter
hiking down to the fjord to trade
once a year
their wild pelts for foreign fruit

Digging for gold or ore
at a time when we dug in to the end
to meet the minotaur
or find the dragon's lair
not to pass through

When trolls guarded bridges
and you were safer to travel by water

Bus to Trondheim

The panorama from the windows
could be a magnificent movie called The Earth
Norway really is that beautiful!

But why do we thirst
to swallow it all with our eyes
our feet barely touching the earth?

We tunnel through mountains
traverse fjords over bridges

I would climb these stark grey rocks
swim in these icy waters
gather firewood for the long winter
if there were time

I would spend a year in each place

watch seasons turn instead of hours
but then I would have no home
and be always a stranger

Viking Song

Farewell my love the waves are calling
I go to a land of untold wealth
where wheat stands tall in the golden sun
and weak kings reign who know not oar nor bow

Stay here my love our land is rich with summer berries
Save your arrows for dear and winter bear
they are nothing to sea monsters
I fear you will not return

I long to fight the monsters of the deep
so our deeds will be immortal
I'll bring you fruit never tasted here
spices to warm the long winter nights

My dear you'll starve to death a fool
Your ship holds food for three days only
Do you know where you're going?
How will you find your way home?

We go to an unknown land
but the Gods go with us
We have made our sacrifices
and know which star to follow

Then take me along with you
I am strong, we rowed together
I spun yarn to weave your sail
and felled oak to build your ship

Our bairn is young and needs you
he is too small to survive such a voyage
when I come back he'll be strong
then we'll all sail to golden beaches

With your belly full and the women frail
why will you return to our harsh land?
My father sailed and his before him
our son will sail and leave me old and weak

Then why will you wait and not go alone
or get with child by another man?
Give me a lock of hair and I'll give you mine
promise to wait and I'll return

With this gold curl I bind my fate to yours
See the golden seal? It is my spirit swimming after you
if you're true I will bring you good winds
but if you tarry I'll bring a storm and drown your ship

Arbeit Macht Frei

Work makes you free
cast in Dachau's iron gate
from the outside

More were killed by work
than freed by Allied soldiers

Running too would have freed their souls

How many visitors have entered this gate
long after the prisoners and guards have left?

Do they realize we could all do this?

We photograph the gate
and open it for each other

Squirrels

The female squirrel
seems remarkably unmoved
as the male mounts her

After he leaves
she goes back to eating acorns

The next time
she moves

He hops right over
missing her

Francis Alys and Madison Square Gardens

Faith moves mountains
but so do shovels
and 1000 hands

Does it take faith
to blow a soap bubble
for the first time?

The little girl looks frustrated
as her younger brother succeeds
then bubbles flow
and she has a look of quiet confidence
until she realizes she is not as prolific

I forget to notice the marigold
floating round the pond a second time
but I can make it float
in my mind

Rain in June

Surprising like a rainbow in the desert
Deserts are full of surprises
Whether to take an umbrella
Across the Sahara, crying camel tears
Hyenas eat your hearts out
Because we are always thirsty
Whether for peace or adventure
Digging dry wells under the umbrella
If we were happy we would put down roots
Unfurl our branches to the sky
Whether it brings sunshine or rain
Soaking it in
Unmoved, unmoving

A Good Pint of Guinness

Though I've never set foot on the Emerald Isle
a good pint of Guinness does make me smile
when I'm in Marin
at the Pelican Inn
with a swim and a hike eating bangers in style

An Epiphany of Tree

On the way out we photograph the tree
alone or one at a time

The tree is too big for our cameras
our screens

It doesn't fit in our eyes

We must take in a bit at a time
like the blind men and the elephant
separated by our perceptions

Maybe the tree is really a God
the earthly manifestation of a higher dimension
and photographing it is like
skipping to the good part of the song
which is an epiphany only in context

Alamere Falls

A sign points to a maze of thicket
Watch out for the poison oak
I have been guide and guided
led my blind friend down the sandstone pipe
in a hailstorm only to turn around
at the overflowing stream

The first time I came here
a beautiful woman sat
buddha-like by the clear green pool
across stepping stones
I splashed my face
meditated at the cliff's edge

The Farrallones shimmered on and off the horizon

Once a whale pelt lined the beach
with the stench of rotting flesh
seagulls relished the fatty meal

I have caught rainbows in the tumbling water

You may never return and reach the waterfall
or see my rainbow tears

Always the vultures, watching
to them I must open my heart

Bass Lake

Wind brushed meadows
tumble over violent cliffs
down to the raging, rocky sea
redeemed by daisies

Even hemlock is laced with flowers

The evergreen thrill of the Tarzan rope
stuns the deep woods with merry shrieks

My son and I swim round the emerald lake
conjuring up old friends in conversation
this place thick with the magic of memory

Looking At Houses

Houses are full of dreams
you imagine lazy garden afternoons
daydreaming
evenings cooking and drinking wine
winters hibernating in the attic

Attics are full of loneliness
adults acting like children
children playing in the treehouse

How many lives has this house seen?
Centenarian
never too old
to keep from fulfilling
so many dreams

Studying Yoga

You haven't learned yoga until you practice alone
standing in relationship with the Universe
breathing it in and out
being the door

Other Lives

We spend so much time
imagining ourselves a different life
like a door waiting to open

When somebody finds the key
what will keep out the wind and the rain?

Stuff

Once I made my peace with chattels
after leaving a household in Houston
packing a family of five in a Chevy Blazer
giving the dog to a friend
swapping books in New Orleans for fewer books
Then I turned a new leaf
shipped my granny's antiques to Berkeley
lived with them for five years
Unlike kids, they never grew up
I feel restless
I don't want to grow old and die
with all this stuff

Blind Date

Vrooming down the avenue
belly sinks with excitement

We charge up the mountain
leaning into a wall of street
catching air on the terraces

Swathed in fog the bay opens beneath

We carve a corner

I remember to breathe

In the golden light this could be Italy

We pull over and watch the sunset with the old bikers
You give me fruit telling me it's not about the perfect job
it's finding yourself and going to work

I cling to you for warmth
purple sky streaks through eucalyptuses

Later in the bar you say we could be anywhere
we could be in Thailand having this conversation
craigslist is like traveling you meet new people
to find yourself

Parable of the Lamps

We need only be present
to witness the divine union

The feast will go on without us

Too Many Words

Too many words, not enough touch
I wonder if we are born this way
or if language grows like a weed
beside the right hand brain area
where once grew peaches
I reach out with my words
squeezing your hand
touch someone

Bloomsday 2011

I jerk awake as the audience laughs
nothing in the house to eat
but pills for back pain
at last a phrase we understand
some follow along in books
I combat drowsiness with word games
the masterful reader speaks in voices
mercifully quick
we celebrate the end with Irish soda bread
crumbs of a drunken day at the beach
thinking of death
celebrating an anniversary

Now

The moment before words
take on a language
the air heavy with lemon blossom
the sweetness of breath

Recipes for Love

It took me years to learn
I liked meat
but not the way you cooked it
yet I always cooked for you
the way you liked it

Heritage

When it mattered you let me down
told me later

I feel your embarrassment
the fear of rejection
in that moment
tiptoeing out

I want to disinherit
these unreasonable pauses
with my sons

Samaritans

Few people lend a hand
to the old drunk fallen in the street
the young woman with a crying baby
the person asking directions in Spanish

My mother does
and so do I

Growing Up

When I was in my teens
someone told me
that growing up is when you learn
to lie to your mother

I should grow up

Why

My mother always told her friends
she knew I'd be a scientist
because my first sentence was

Squirrels eat acorns but people don't
why?

I still remember
wanting to eat the acorns

Contagious Anxiety

When I talk with my mother
I wonder if I am
doing the right thing

Then I start to wonder
who I am
why do anything

at all

though I understand
she's only worried about me
that this is how she must feel
all the time

I don't want to

My Mother's Way of Caring

My mother's way of caring
is to tell me what to do

This often rings a bell

But between me and you
well
at least she cares

Taking Cover

We cover ourselves in clothes
to keep out the cold and the heat

We cover ourselves in houses
to keep out the rain and snow

We cover ourselves in cars
to keep out the time between places

We cover ourselves in facebook
to keep out the distance between us

But on a sunny day we are just like the trees
unfurling our green limbs to the heavens above

Energy

I never understood what people meant
by energy
mysterious, spiritual, supernatural
having color and frequency
until you held me in your blue gaze
and told me it just means love
that you channel until you feel it in yourself
and then communicate with the other person
through touch
and I knew exactly what you meant
because I sometimes feel that

Poor Dead Crow

Poor dead crow
someone's eaten out your heart

Lustrous feathers, blue-black
frame the deep red cavity

Was it swift like a bullet
or a lightning bolt?

Were you hurrying home
to your nestlings at night
too close to a cat
or a speeding car?

Maybe disease gnawed you from inside
slowly day by day
until you caved in
here, underneath the freeway

Strange Dreams

You tipped me over
to drink the sand pouring out of my blouse

Weren't you just telling your sons
not to eat sand?

I'm a sandy person
always doing headstands on the beach
I could be a sundial
or an hourglass

My time is your time

In an earlier dream
you pinned me down to kiss me
I woke tangled in the cover alone

You were somebody else

We're like clockwork figures doing our dance
sometimes I'm me and sometimes you are

A Kaleidoscope of Love

I feel a different kind of love
for each new lover
each new friend
and sometimes old friends
who call to catch up
and find we have both changed
It warms my heart to think of
all the friends I have yet to meet
old and new
and all their friends
so many different kinds of love
a kaleidoscope of love 

Spinning Wheels

The man crosses the road on his bicycle
his daughter riding beside him
through the traffic

From my perspective
her front wheel fits perfectly in his rear wheel

I long for the times
our children's problems could be contained
within our own

The Breath of Conversation

The breath of conversation
is like the spaces between the dancers
extending their bodies

Like listening to a million pebbles on the beach
hearing the sounds that clouds make
when they regroup

You think it would take superhuman awareness
but we do it all the time
without thinking

I Would Be Sea Foam

I would be sea foam
dancing on the beach at night
flirting with the wind
floating on the waves
far from soft guitar strains
and if you left the warm beach fire
the comfort of human voices
you might walk right through me in the dark
and all you would feel is a chill
touching your bare feet
your fingertips
maybe your memory

The Other's Freedom

I'm happy with you
but you're only happy with me
for now

In my universe
there is only now

Do I have to allow you
forever?

Purple Dreds

I imagine the aging punk lady
with the purple dreds
slowly unlacing her knee-high boots
taking out the spiky earrings one by one
as the line lengthens behind her
at the airport security

But it's me holding up the line
forgetting to take off my sandals, belt
I drink my water, still beeping
I'm stood up in front of a giant X-ray machine
my sweaty palms dabbed by the guard
in a mysterious ritual

Idealism

It will be a dry summer
forecasts my son's friend
this sunny afternoon in the park

We picnic in the green shade
noticing paper cut blinds on the way
crafting our lives
me and her aunt and her mother
caring for this beautiful planet

We discuss the meaning of terrorism
which they will learn in class
interning at international non-profits

Later our kids are taught
not to walk in Central Park
after dark

Jerusalem

(after seeing the play by Jezz Butterworth on Broadway)

A fairy sings Jerusalem
I think of Blake wandering through London
in the shadow of dark satanic mills
along the river Thames

I wonder what Americans make
of the pied piper smashing the TV
his debauched party in the woods
the May fair staffed by high Morris dancers

For Blake they were utopias
America and Jerusalem
perhaps they still are compared to this
though this has magic

A sad drug dealer summoning giants
I wonder if they understand
has more magic than all their TV sets
their goal ridden lives

Rockaway Beach, New York City Fringes

The sand is soft and warm beneath my feet

the water is cold and clear

Beyond the ocean England lies

though a thousand tongues are spoken here

seagulls are the same the world over

Few would walk miles along the beach

laughing at the shells of civilization

disused buildings, fences breached

A heap of clothes and shoes upon the shore

a boombox playing to itself

the party long dispersed amid the dunes

Van Gogh Wheatfield with Cypresses

It is hard to imagine the journey
from a blank canvas
to this startling solidity
of trees, wheat, mountains
even the clouds are tactile

But that's not it at all
rather, a clear, sharp image
in the mind
imprinting itself on canvas
through the medium of paint

New York Public Library

A temple to reading
permeated by the musty smell of books
only at night is it truly quiet
a cavernous space filled with silent readers
where footfalls echo
chairs sigh and fart
shoes squeak
keys jangle
books drop
and the building breathes

My neighbor wears earplugs

Better read on the subway
where the noise is constant

Winged Centaurs

No, we never looked over
the throbbing mass of Nimrud
only the stone mason's dusty yard
before we were wheeled to the temple
deep inside the royal enclosure
our beneficent smiles beaming
down on little princes
who counted our hoofs and claws
tracing my ammonite curls
your stone feathers
with their delicate fingers

Neolithic Goddess

A pair of slit eyes
on a piece of stone

We left our mark
10,000 years ago

Would another species
recognize it as human?

Psyche and Cupid

If Cupid and Psyche were alive today
would we worry about the sensual abandon of this pose
his hand draped over her budding breasts
her head tossed back in abandon
as she reaches up and ruffles his hair

People smile and take pictures

If I had wings
I would make love in the air

Questioning what is real
the marble copy in the Hermitage
or the plaster here

or my dance last night
this reminds me of

(Canova, 18th-19th C)

Poussin's Anxiety Dreams

The beggar puts his baby on the temple stairs
beneath the miracle of the lame man
catching a coin from an onlooker

Midas washes himself in the river
behind a large river god
to touch without turning all to gold

The Sabine women are strong
they put up a fight
in their carefully staged abduction

Italian Interior

The huge black Italian mastiff
rests his chin gently on the little white dog

A small girl watches over
the chubby naked infant in a heap of laundry
as her friend turns to chat with an older sister

A plump blond bustles in, baby on hip
the young women are washing her clothes
gossiping with one man
as another kneels to play with the dogs

All swathed in soft, warm light

(Fragonard, 18th C)

Before Chardin

Half the canvas is black

On the plain brown table
nothing is in the center

The nautilus shell glints
behind an oval box
lid ajar
revealing dried fruit

The artist could take his time
carving light and form for weeks
months before decay set in

Dusting the small leopard shell
daily to make it shine

(Stoskopff 17th C)

Ave Gratis Plena

The Madonna casts a dreamy look
of resignation into the middle distance
gently holding the baby Jesus' foot
as he looks up confidently
not to her but to God

Below the dead Jesus
stands despite his wounds

(Pietro of Sienna, 16th C)

Pictures at the Met

These plinths were meant for statues
not for middle-aged me eating a banana
Better slip down and step in
to get out of the New York rain
and the tourists' snapshots

Blackberry Brambles

Some people don't like brambles
and try to stamp them out
but I adore blackberries
and I like the challenge
so I train them to the fence
tying new shoots every week
braiding them together
cutting away root stock
so it doesn't overrun the garden

Whenever I go away
I get back to a thorny jungle
filled with juicy fruit
there is no way to reach

People say why not grow raspberries
you could graft them on
but I prefer blackberries

I train the brambles and they train me
it takes a lot of patience to grow blackberries

Parable of the Trodden Weed

You trample a plant accidentally
next day you trample it again
on the third day you notice
it looks sad

You swear you won't do it again
on day five you forget
so you stop and say sorry
little plant
it was an accident
but the plant shrivels

Little plant
why don't you grow
dammit?

You feel tempted
to step on it deliberately
now

It will take weeks
many days of remembering
not to step on the plant
before it will grow

Dante's Commencement

We sit in a tent in case it rains
gently on this moist New England lawn
as a young alum speaks
who might be the country's president someday
about turning memories to poetry
an event is not complete
until it becomes memory
He talked with survivors
in war-torn corners of the globe
raises the power of youth
boy soldiers
the untapped potential of girls
who learn only to be raped
though he doesn't use that word
using social media to promote change
his famous mother's impatience
the value of impatience
because it leads to action

Two new graduates speak together
about the value of friendship
during transitions

The old college president speaks
To texts and social media
turning our brains into mush
uniformity as the obesity
resulting from this mental diet
The value of long arguments with those around us
reading books
walks in the woods untracked by GPS
private lives

The graduates march
to the sounds of Scottish bagpipes
and a gong from Burma
where the college will start an outreach branch
as they have in prisons and New York high schools

I am happy for my son's time here
free from the tyranny of cellphone and wifi
surrounded by bright young minds and old trees
Less worried that I never taught him his place
because I don't know mine
He will step into the dance and change
it because the dance changes
whenever somebody steps in

I wonder who took my role
alone on the tall tree swing
at the last graduation and the next
with the gowned professor saying
I like to see adults being children

Cityscape

Buildings breathe
with an ineffable hum
supporting us
providing heat and air-conditioning
constructing and reconstructing
sounds of drills and cement mixers
cars, planes, trains

We are traffic moving through
these man-made mountains
our epitaph

In Each Others Dreams

In each others dreams we are powerful
Witches, magicians, minor deities
In real life we must remember
How fragile each other's flesh, feelings
and our own
Oh f.

Symbols

Two hawks fight in the sky
Orange and yellow butterflies
Lacy black and white
Children on the rope swing
A deer crosses the road
catches me in his brown stare
Shadows fly across the treetops
Geese fly overhead
What do they all mean?

Hot Tub

Aeiiyeeee
My feet burn
But it's only the skin
As I edge my legs in
I sit on the rim
Waiting for the sensation to pass
Then slowly
I crouch down
Gripping the edge of the tub
With both hands
And breathe

It takes time
For the heat
To seep into my body
Slowly making my heart beat
Faster, harder
Making sweat bead on my forehead
And run down my nose to my chin
Dripping back into the water

I feel the absence of pain
Throughout my body
Aaaaaahhhh

But then it becomes stifling

I inch my way back up
And the world spins around me

I sit on the rim
Breathing
Waiting for my pulse to slow down
Before I gingerly slide one foot
Then the other
Out of the tub
Letting go of the edge
Sensing what it feels like
To take my first steps

Wifi Cafe

some face the window
some turn to the interior
but each one holds their gaze close
to the screen
a human computer bubble
minds crunching
communicating by keystrokes
navigating the internet through a mousepad
as people walk by outside
unnoticed
the sun slowly sets
on another world
feeding the plants
transformed into DC
heating coffees and teas
I imagine brains firing
and wonder what thoughts are inside
the smell of coffee reminds me
I have been here before
in the back room
sharing poetry with live humans
on pieces of pulped tree
is there no going back?

Meandering Thoughts

Our spiritual path begins with disenchantment
for how can we avoid learning that bad things happen
that people die, even those close to us

Hopi children are lucky to get this over with
by the ceremonial removal of Kachina masks
whose secret has been kept from them since birth

Only the dull spirited swallow the stories whole
whether fed Heaven and Hell or Evolutionary Psychology
without teasing them apart and playing with their food

We are all eagles in sheeps' clothing
playing with the wind, for what reason?
Sometimes I get lost taking the eagle eye's view

Connection

Look me in the eye and I will hold your gaze
as you read this poem
Did you know there are stars in your eyes?
We both are made of stars
I hold your hand and gently stroke your wrist
you stroke my fingers and my heart explodes
Do you feel the same way?
I want to know everything about you
open my mind to you
so we can laugh together
whoever you are I accept you
our connection sculpted in words
transcending the boundaries
of time space and person
transcending words

Portrait Sketch III

You ask me about biking
because recently you became a bike rack advocate
without riding a bike
not since high school
by speaking out at a meeting

I admire your doingness

You tell me about your work
a program for young men with Asperger's
your brief was to teach them social skills
but you find yourself instead
helping them unlearn that they are bad
for not following society's patterns
first they must believe in themselves
to go out into the world
and you are their frontal lobes
their executive functioning

You have found your niche

Portrait Sketch II

You love Rumi
You found him when you were 13
on the shelves of a Minnesota library
You are fascinated by the beautiful Persian woman
until she claims him as her own
To translate is to collaborate across borders
across centuries
I comfort you
Secretly I wonder what resonated
maybe falling in love with a teacher
with someone of your own gender
Poetry is universal we both agree
tapping into the root
You say you journal in verse
or write poem notes on journals
but they are no good
I say the audience is unimportant
For work, you help students
embody their ideas in the community
actualize themselves
Your words are poetry
I wish I could remember them
You moved here from the bigger city
but now you want to socialize
you talk about how hard it is to maintain friendships
how brave I am to come out on my own
I think like me it is easier for you
to love than to be loved
I love you Sunshine

Portrait Sketch I

We meet in a trendy urban bar
with graffiti art on the brick walls
You shake my hand and introduce yourself
fascinated by my suburban existence
wondering if I am part of the group
of energy activists who met there before
You long for a community
where everybody knows one another
yet you have lived in cities
all your life
and I imagine you moving
to smaller and smaller towns
in a reversal of our cultural evolution
raising a family among green fields
tilling the soil
talking to flowers
after the apocalypse

American Injustice

Fifty years ago the freedom riders
risked their lives and sacrificed their freedom
sitting in a Mississippi jail
facing mobs and fire bombs
with non-violence
to ride side by side
black with white
in the segregated South

If we cared enough today
poor people would not run from the bailiffs
dying of preventable diseases
experiencing the pain of malnutrition
even as their bodies sag under the weight of cheap food
like feed-lot cattle
pumped with Big Pharma drugs
abusing or neglecting their own children
into compliance

Did you know that
if we all worked 5% less
and took two more weeks vacation
and a 10% cut in pay
(which research shows is too small to reduce happiness)
there would be enough jobs
to go around?

Think of the health benefits
of all that leisure
the time to build communities!

For it is indecent
that people lose their jobs
for taking time to see the doctor

Nobody should land a lifetime of debt
for cancer treatment
to enrich corporate shareholders

We too should board the bus
and ride beside the poor
their freedom is our responsibility

On the Way

Walking Meditation

Emptying out and recasting

Emptying out

Bring to mind all your expectations
about your walk
the feelings, hopes and fears
and cast them away

Do it again

When you are ready
get up and start walking

If your mind becomes filled
with thoughts
stop
and do this again

Recasting

As you walk
notice the sensations in your feet
in your legs and your hips
your spine and fingertips
notice your breathing
and all the other rhythms
in your body

Begin to pay attention
to the sensations on your skin
where it touches the air

Notice the sounds around you

Notice what you see
and if you notice something beautiful
hold it in mind
and carry it back with you

If it goes away
don't worry
do this again

Caveat

People
have thanked me for this
but their memory changes it

I don't know what I'm looking for
I often find beauty on the way
and I feel blessed

To Go

The young man
stares at the blank page
pen in hand
as though the cosmic traffic light
had told him 'Wait!'

Behind him
over the leafy hill
the tops of people and cars
cross slowly
cut off by the horizon

The man
puts the pen behind his ear
takes his coffee
and leaves

I am not alone

Blue sky
I am not alone
Brown dog
I am not alone
Blossom on the tree
I am not alone
Train flying by
I am not alone

Something Wrong

What looked like coffee cups

were conches

and the machine kept pouring

I shelled coffee from one to another

about to serve you when I saw

sand inside

The flight attendant changed my ticket

for a later flight, showing me pictures

of his daughters and hillside home

his wife's grave in the garden

or was it his mother's?

His stool was at eye-level

writing on a counter

way over my head

You turned away from me

and zipped up the fabric of the Universe

and I wasn't sure if you were zipping

me out or in

We sampled perfumes

you thought I should have

something rich and musky

but the one I picked 

was light

with a fragrance of roses

We both admired

the old woman

engrossed in her daily

perfume ritual

Without Words

I dreamt of the 'Alte Sachen' man
his tired horse straight out of Chekhov
drawing and repelling my gaze like two magnets
weepy eyes surrounded by flies
back sagging, ribs protruding
impossibly drawing a cartload of furniture
rocking chairs, televisions, washing machines
I lie in bed between languages
six years old
conferring with my imaginary sister
'What does it mean?'
'Bring out your old things.'

Mindscape

A splash of yellow paint
folded over, opened
and folded again
crosswise
to make a butterfly

Blue sky behind

The sun in one corner
in another, a rainbow

Palm trees far below
a hammock rocking between
a beautiful woman asleep

Ocean waves curling like dolphins
to the distant horizon

The green ribbon of a river
I tie in a bow

So much easier
painting in words

For My Father

You said no to earrings
not because God said
we mustn't wound one another
or even ourselves
but because we bless Him
every Day of Atonement
for forming us
out of spaces and cavities
nooks and hollows
the way that we are
and I thought of our ears
and our lungs and our nostrils
like so many dark caves
carved by God, fully charted
and even our guts
twisting round, twisting round
but in the end
it is mostly redundant
though you lie in the stars
as much as the ground
piercing my eyes
like titanium barbells
with cubic zirconia
pierce my ears
after so many years
facing my freedom
and they don't hurt at all
they look pretty
and I take how they shine
like your stars as agreement
for we form around spirit
and spirit flows through us

Shell

You have to understand that
years of disappointment
have formed a hard shell
around me and I'm pretty
self contained now

But I'm thankful for
your X-ray vision

Clouds

Clouds, snow capped mountains
lurking outside my window
oppressing the sky

Birthday Pen

I was always the one
who made surprises for others
Big bright '40' candles for my mother
when I was eleven
Walking down Oxford Street
pregnant and pushing a pram
at twenty one
'You must really love him'
they said and I did
Booking magicians
pizzas and pool parties
Bar Mitzvahs

So I was charting new territory
when you hot and colded me
to the Unknown Island
and I feel strangely moved

On Being Born

Buddhists say we choose our own
parents.   Who would choose ours?
Imagine my spirit coming down
to Earth, 'The grandmother's crazy
the dad, he will die young'
(Do they know that?)
'The mum is a bundle of nerves
but they'll love you
and need you.'
(Do spirits want to be wanted?)
And I love them
and you love yours

We are not
the Royal Straight Flush
but there are so many hands

If I were a spirit
coming down from the stars
I would hold onto us
because friendship lasts

Cal Day

Krystal's 21
drinking mimosa from a flask
I give her red wine and a corkscrew
I fly her upside down
from my feet twisting her round
to see the halo round the sun
say you get younger every day
from now just look at me
tomorrow I turn 41

Cafe Milano

A wavy blond guitar neck
sprouts from a vase
Notes hang on its clef strings
echoing the wavy hair
of the girl reading below
as she plays with her fingers

I do the same writing

Painted dreams

in jungle wood frames

The impression of bricks

embossed by grout

Brown hands cut bread
garnish salads

The smell of burnt cheese
rises to the open sky
between brown rafters

Bright young minds
fill the air with conversation
between open laptops

Outside, a bright yellow crane
a palm tree, a satellite dish
rooftops and power lines

The human atmosphere
itching with hope

In the Beginning

In the beginning there was silence.
Does a tree falling in the forest make a sound
when there is no one to hear?

Then there was breath
and the plants and the animals danced together
in the circle of life
feeding each other

Water swam around the Earth
infusing everything
quenching fire and thirst

We listened to the rain
and thought of Death

We built towers with our words
constructed Gods and Money
to outlast us
but they tricked us into believing
in happiness
when there is only the dance

In the end there will be silence.
Does a tree falling in the forest make a sound
when there is no one to hear?

Fertile Ground

The rose garden houses
the potential for roses
and sometimes their smell

We sit on the sunny bench
as roses sprout buds around us
pondering sicker inner growth

Keeping our distance
close enough to hold
body and soul together
in the April breeze

I too was young
I carried my criticisms like a kite
ready to fly

Now I backpedal a unicycle
arms crucified on balance-pole wings
strung across the sacred valley
between coffee and comprehension

where roses lie like houses
and you wonder whether to die
or to give birth

I'm On Your Side

I'm on your side
says the moon
to the sun

stretching across
a giant pine

I will wait for you
'til the end of time
she replies

The moon sinks
like a nail clipping
in the hottub

It will be a good night
for stars

Snow Doesn't Fall

Snow doesn't fall like rain
it meanders

The drifting snowflakes
settle my mind

I will fall
I will melt
I will rise again

Why hurry?

Each one a perfect
accident of nature

Their silent voices
rise a capella
like an endless scale

Snow Haiku

Snow falls on snow
I watch the pine feathered sky
and hear birds' wings flap

Constellations of Meaning

Science doesn't really answer
any of the important questions
we are fortunate enough
to be able to ask
like, why are we here
and what should we do

The story of our descent
from bugs and apes
doesn't explain
the pyramids or the Mona Lisa

But we can't all be
Mozart, Shakespeare, or the Dalai Lama
so I guess we each must find
our place in the dance

projecting our divine fantasies
onto distant galaxies
and arbitrary stars

Signs

I
Every winter the buffalo
leave Yellowstone in search of grass
ignoring the signs
that mark the park boundary
and are hunted

Hillbillies and hippies on skis
camp out in the snow
herding them back

II
According to Navajo legend
a hunter slept with a beautiful woman
not knowing she was White Thunder's bride

He ate a sheep with lightning tattooed on his horn

A voice in the storm bid him 'leave your weapons'
he did and the lightning blasted him to shreds

Magic put him together again

III
We follow our rules and laws
Gods we created
or maybe they created us
trapped in our comfort zone
never leaving our thoughts behind

We are tempted by grass in the barren snow
beauty and domesticity

Who will pick up the pieces
and read us the signs?

Night Plane

I watch the night plane fly across constellations
tracing the sound through closed eyes
as we touch feet
I wonder what the stars would say about us?

Always flying in opposite directions
leading our lives in reverse
but when we meet
I love you so much.

Travel Gods

I wonder what the Gods would think of all this waiting

Greeting is so human

People traveling have their own Gods
Time
Place
Baggage

As though the Earth weren't good enough
We jostle around
To make meaning

Imagine the trajectories of all the people
Over the whole of time
Crisscrossing the Earth like a crazy rubberband ball

We travel further these days
Yet most return

Ah the joyous anticipation
Because who knows where we have been
Where we will go

This moment of coming together

IX

Made to hold in my fist
A natural spool
Moomintroll
If all of nature were like this
How could we believe
It wasn't made
With us in mind

VIII

Hard to imagine
A single metamorphosis
Crisscrossing minerals
Marble and sandstone
Limestone
Obsidian
Traces of fossil

Flux set in stone

VII

I once had a sandstone ring
The old man saw me fish it out of the sea
He said now I was married to the ocean
It fit my wedding ring finger perfectly

It snapped in a thunderstorm
Waking my boyfriend and I
On our first night in my bed

The sea is a jealous lover
I have found many rings since then
But none fit

VI

A pearl was forming
Like a vine frozen in the bud
Opalescent
Is there a word for the inside of seashells?
Something nascent
Numinous

V

Long ago all seashells were pink
That's why sand is pinkish

Relic from a prehistoric creature
The ridges in between ridges
Big as ridges on an ordinary shell

Interior hard as a rock

Did a pterodactyl eat you? A dinosaur step on you?
Or Venus crack you open like an egg?

The fingers of time
Stretch across your back

You make a good back-scratcher

IV

You have traveled a long way

to be so perfectly rounded

smooth like cool, hard lips

You keep your mouth

shut tight

hold your secrets close

Did you even notice anything?

What pulses in your thin pink veins,

your cold stone heart?

If I had rolled down the rivers

since time immemorial

would I be like you?

III

I met a boy who was obsessed with obsidian
Big hefty rocks, tiny black dots, arrowheads
He told me they used it for glass
This one is heavy and can be rolled like a die
Dark as the night sky
With shiny white stars
And black holes
If only I could throw it to tell the future
But who wants to know
Not the boy
Not I

II

This could be an arrowhead
used to hunt turkeys
a million years ago
but is probably a shard
from tooling a larger weapon

Is the tool used to make a weapon
a weapon or a tool?

What remains of the peaceful weapon maker
after he has bartered with the hunter and the warrior?

The flint sparks a flame
and survives

I

I am a perfect spiral cone
Perhaps if I had lived longer I would grow and grow
Climbing up to the stars
A Tower of Babel
Rising like a clown's hat from the ocean
With the whole planet as my head
Green continents for eyes
Antarctica my beard
Mustache and fluffy sideburns made of clouds
Lolling around the sun

Nine Stones and Shells

American River

Naked I swim in the American River
chilling my skin, warm to the core
I sunbathe on the rocks

How are people offended by nudity?

She cries ugly at bare breasts
under a tropical waterfall, and I wonder
what could be more beautiful?

Does she hate her own body
under her clothes?

Must she close her eyes
to have sex?

The river carries
antidepressants and painkillers
like an expensive purse

Children run joyously
over the meadow flowers
as a silver fish
is hauled flailing
from the gray reservoir

The river is dammed
where once a man panned gold
among mountains and valleys

I facebook my friends

Between Two Kingddoms

Maybe this is how we were meant to be
clothed in nothing but sunlight
naked flames of the campfire
licking its lips for more stories
each night

The magic of finding fruit
and sharing it

But we are always between two kingdoms
at once wholly animal and wholly other
trapped in the ether of communication
from generation to generation
living uneasily between body and mind

Sunbathing and campfires remind us
                                             of our souls

Mesquite Dunes

Fingers of the sun press into
my closed eyelids
and I feel like tumbling
down the golden slopes
the taste of sand
already on my lips

But first we must climb in silence
except footsteps that sound
like a great beast breathing

I imagine we are giving CPR
to mother earth
stroking the bare dunes with our feet

But I hear only the feet of others
my own feet silenced in anticipation
of my will, tensioning muscles and joints

For we are the orchestra
the melody plays through us
We are lucky if we catch
                              a glimpse of its beauty

Death Valley

In the valley of the shadow of death
I walk beside you

I am the acrobats
cartwheeling between the palm trees
the ghosts of absent friends

I am your father, your son
the worrier and the worried about

I am the stars in the night sky
friendly and terrifying

You see longing in the shapes of clouds
parting and joining, melting
across the blue sky at noon

To be is wanting
another place, another shape
another you

But I am one

The Wisdom of the Old Man

You carry your friends in your pocket
these days, said the old man
sitting on the bench at the top
of the hill with his dog overlooking
the higher mountain
as puffing I reached for my phone

He told me about his childhood
in this town coming up here
from below and I wished
we had held onto each other

And telling you this rekindled
our friendship.  You told me
the old man's wisdom was bogus
now you too have moved on

Is it wiser to go or to stay?
To hold on or to let go?

I carry you and the old man
in my head these days
I feel lighter that way

Perhaps you will spread your wings
and lift me up and I'll fly
waving at the people on the bench
up and over the highest mountain

A Playground For Dolphins

I would make a playground for dolphins
Out of these disused train carts
Filled with rainwater

Imagine the joy of the dolphin
Leaping from one to the other
Imagine the look of surprise
On passersby's faces

What if this were God's intention for us
And the train was moving
And all we could see was the sky
And the undersides of bridges zooming by

It would take a leap of faith
To land in another cart
But we could barely move
Without hurting ourselves

What if this really is
All there is to it
A row of gray carts
Filled with dirty rainwater

The train grinds
Along the track
To its final destination
Before turning back

And all the exaltation
Is in the leaping
And all the insight
The view from the top of the leap

Cool Cats

The cat is quiet on my lap
Jazz plays on the radio
I feel discomfort in my belly
But maybe this is not enough
I must really be suffering
The injustice of the cat's total release
Flopping across my knees
So I must maintain his balance
My foot numb on the wooden seat
He glares at my writing hand
I stroke him with the other
He follows the pencil like it's a butterfly
Weighing his chin down, purring
I am captive to this warm, soft
Unfriendly cat
A-kind, as in amoral
Pure selfishness
We suffer the same
Affliction

Stars They Told Me

Stars they told me on a day like this
you may as well be six foot under
soaking up raindrops through the cracks
growing foot fungus.  Forget it!
I try to appreciate the stars
in the underbellies of raindrops
clinging to new buds
star-shaped cherry blossoms
stars twinkling in puddles
from raindrops too far to see
neighbors in their homes
communing with stars on the TV
stars in their eyes
white stars in my cat's black fur
behind his eyelids closed in sleep

Count your blessings tonight
you will not be woken by the full moon
clinging warmly foot to foot
for it is cold among the stars

Worrier and Worried About

Can the shape of clouds
help me grasp
the tragedy across the ocean
whose gentle, lapping waves
replace the cloud of birdsong
as I walk along the shore
and imagine
the bridge closing my horizon
begin to tremble
realizing all that separates us
is the random walk of molecules
beneath the Earth's thin crust

Folk in Berkeley Ne'er Grow Old

Humming down the sidewalk on his miniscooter
Tie wagging behind like a flag
White wisps neatly tucked under his helmet
LED light mounted above
The professor on his lunch break
Cheers me up

Front Crawl

You swim smoother
if you push your face into the water
looking down not forward

You can imagine
pressing your forehead into the flesh of a giant beast
softly stroking the back of your head with its cold fingers

Maybe because it makes your tail come up
so you are skimming the surface
where there is least resistance

A Bridge Too Far

Water and fire, earth and air
We wander down the sodden trail
under the California pines
figuring the proper distance
between mothers and sons
wondering if we have gone
a bridge too far
when strange roads sound
under the fog in the valley
we turn at the waterfall.
Should we text them?
In amongst all this rain
we sit by the fire at the Westpoint Inn
and I think about you and I.
Have I gone a bridge too far?
My one belief is that we are responsible
for each other's freedom.
We all need
water and fire, earth and air

Barefoot and Fancy Free

Some things you can only know through your feet
The softness of mud
bursting with spring grasses
The smoothness of well trodden trail
Earth's bones crunching beneath our bones
jostling up through hips and spine
reaching our head
as we breathe in sky

We feel like the trees
we drink in through our eyes
digging their roots into soft soil
soaking up sunlight

We open our feet and take in
the fragility of the planet
our own fragility
through constellations of nerve endings
tingling like stars

Bubble

Rising up in the blue sky
toward the chalk white moon
long after the little girl
in the butterfly face paint
has stopped blowing bubbles
and people are talking of other things

Outlasting the higher bubbles
winning a game of celestial shuttlecock
stubbornly holding your breath
until the silent pop

Writing a Story

Writing a story is hard
There are so many choices
Setting the time and place
Casting the characters
Plotting the plot
Each one is arbitrary
There are an infinity of stories
to choose from
How much easier
To throw in the pen
And write a poem instead

Poems practically write themselves

Words With Friends

A word is a door
onto ocean depths of meaning
wide as a lifetime
rich as the menu at the fanciest restaurant
where seagulls feast on the pearls of dead men's dreams

But how to crack open
find the key to unfathom
this phantom shipwreck
bursting with strange fruit

Lost in a hall of mirrors
how will you even hear
the faint glub glub of my drowning

I must anchor my words to a patch of open sky
string them along like pearls on a chain
pearling your backbone
giving you life and limb

Who cares if we lost the plot
if we have bad boundaries

A word is a door
hold my hand and step in

University Cafe

How much more significant
The red curve
On the screen
When you consider
All the facts that went into it

The size of a butterfly's wing
The frequency of sunspots
Infant life expectancy in Africa
Nerve endings participating in a spike chain
The efficiency of aging routers
The economics of oil
The history of the modern world

The woman communes with her graph
Bringing her face close to the screen
Peering at it for minutes at a time
Wondering what it means
Her experssion is serious
She is deep in thought

Is there this much meaning
In the curve of a wave rolling into the ocean
The curve of a dolphin's back

If only we looked at each other
Appreciating all that went into
The curve of a mouth
How it relates to a life full of people
And their imaginings

Insomnia

The page is blank
like closed eyes without lashes
a smiling Buddha without a mouth
maybe it's hiding
all the sleep I lost
last night
last week
last year
a clean sheet
coming between me and you
a new leaf
turning in the wind
of a white midsummer night
north of the arctic circle
where a polar bear lost on the melting ice
is looking for the north star
white noise on the TV screen
after everyone has gone to bed
it is morning somewhere

The Meaning of Dreams

Remember the sense of deja vu
when we climbed the steep stairs
winding up the bare hillside
under the terraced houses
next to the old stairs
that had subsided?

A woman was standing on top of a ladder
tending her plants, dancing to music
that blared out from her window.
It made me feel giddy
just looking up at her.

When we reached the top we were so tired
we fell asleep on the floor in a side-room
of the rock concert hall

You didn't believe me
that the star was almost 70
until I showed you in the paper

We woke when the speakers buzzed
It was still all preamble, DJ's
They were projecting slides
onto the ceiling
of the room we were in

We had dreamt of the hillside town
the stairway
it wasn't real

The main show was about to begin
when I woke
the meaning of dreams, as usual
just out of reach

Dance Class

Only a handful
of bodies
are in the class
moving
so gracefully
I just watch
for a moment
before the instructor
invites me
to step in
and I wonder
if I have it in me
to move like that
but my body
is already flowing
to her words
that make no sense
only sensations

Stretch
Flow
Close your eyes

Breathe

Spring Flowers

I love the magic of identifying the buds
before they burst into bloom
snowdrop, crocus, daffodil,
narcissus, cyclamen
As though by naming them I am part of the process
iris, tulip, hyacinth
calling them forth from the earth
from my neighbors' gardens
without putting a hand to trowel or soil

If only life were like that

Flying West

Flying west daylight stretches out forever
like a blob of gum

I imagine the Earth spinning beneath us
through sunsets and sunrises
as we try to stick resolutely
to the unmoving sky
gaining only 2 hours in 10

But the sky spins too
as the Earth tumbles around the Sun
at breathtaking speed
and the Sun circles the center of the Galaxy
as the Galaxy zooms through the Universe

Only gravity holds us to what is closest

I wonder if like a cartoon but in reverse
when a character runs off the edge of the world
and then looks down
before falling
if we could see gravity's invisible threads
and become unglued

London, Aging

When I was younger
I did not feel at home in the world
For the world was a set of disconnected places
Each intense, full of feelings and memories
I could barely imagine
how to get from one to another
without falling through the cracks
which were filled with fear of falling
getting lost, being late, going the wrong way

Now I am older
I have fewer desires and goals to realize
fewer people and things to take care of
I know that the ways are infinite
and there is all the time in the world
London feels safer, smaller, cleaner
and I wonder about my old self

The War Against Terrorism in India

In India they are fighting terrorism
not with guns or x-ray machines
but with luggage and stamps

Even my empty pani tiffen has two stamped tags
my shoulder bag had to go back to security
to be restamped
while they made pooja over me with a metal detector
in the Ladies' Q

Like dirty water is good for you
if it is holy and blessed enough

In Madurai three hotels turned me down
as a single person with no luggage
Only terrorists are known
to travel alone
and not to be householders

I picture the terrorists cringing
under this onslaught of baggage and ink

If it fails maybe they will threaten them
with hunger strikes
and loincloths

Strange Vision

Vishnu sits before the blue ocean
green flames rising from his eyebrows
He beckons me with three long fingers
I approach.  Behind me
the crowd oms perpetually
I pause not knowing what to expect
then I am Vishnu
facing the crowd
smiling

I beckon another
who replaces me

I fly up to the stars
and dwell among them for eons

Reborn as an eskimo child
I play in the ice
craving seal fat
warmly wrapped in skins

A forest bursts into fire
orange butterflies swarm
high high into the blue sky

To Swami Vishnu Devananda

It took some imagination even in the 1970's
to fly across borders in a psychedelic plane
repainted every stop, with a passport to match
as a self-proclaimed International Ambassador for Peace
interviewed in Belfast in front of blond yogis
performing in lime green leotards and white tights
throwing flowers at Israeli fighter jets
preferring the Egyptian jail to the bellydance club

Nowadays you would be shot
not chanting your doderage away
in a Quebec hammock

The swamis drum alongside the procession
bathing your orange-robed statue in the lake

All these young people passionate about yoga
how will their dedication to inner peace bring peace?

Ashram Day

Once I would have had to explore the entire landscape
Summit all the tree frilled hills
Swim every morning in the warm earthy lake
Surrounded by lotus flowers and crocodiles

Now I am content to sit eating cashew nuts
Watching the rain, smelling things getting wet
Hearing the sounds of India blasted from temple speakers
My body pulled about by yoga like frazzled wool
Loose, bunching together

Not Yoga

If only we could be like trees
carressing forever
their branches entwined
in an endless hug
growing into trunks
supporting each other
even after one dies

But we are too soft
we give way too easily
we move too fast

Better be like the butterflies
courting in the wind
a flash of speckled beauty

God looks on dispassionately

Why should I be like Him
or devote myself to Him
when I want to lose myself in you

I would do anything for you

Sunrise Sounds

Sounds of Indian music
blast across the valley
disturbing the tranquility
of this lonely mountaintop temple

Here people learn
to be at peace
with other people
stepping on each others toes
being stepped on
having their gods stepped on

As the rhythms merge into a cacophony
and lions roar in their sanctuary
we shelter in our asylum
of Western style meditation
emptying our minds
until the sun rises
and we start clicking cameras
while chanting

Only the Elephant

Only the temple elephant
doesn't know I'm a foreigner
and I'm suppose to pay twice
or ten times the price

He takes my 5 rupee coin
in the moist pink interior of his trunk
and pats me on the head

Captured Moment

Everything is beautiful today
Even the sound of a camera clicking
Behind me
Pointed at the fishermen
Gathering their nets
Each in a different colored button-front shirt
And loincloth
Yelling and shoving
Because their boat was full of water
While the young woman
Sits and meditates
Her face slowly turning pink in the sun
And while her tan will fade
The moment will be captured
On old-fashioned film
And survive a little longer

Missing the Boat

It would have been better
to have missed the boat
if God were to give me an audience
read the poem I wrote
look me in the eye and embrace me
so I would feel held

But I skip the line saying
"I've a boat to catch"
though I feel no urgency
because the line only moves if you push

The devotees snatch my poem
I hold up the line briefly
She shrugs, smiling "no English"
draws me to her, blessing nontheless
"Mydaughtermydaughtermydaughter"
and I am pushed away by devotees
saying "Amma is busy"
tears in my eyes, smelling of roses
wondering why
we are in such a rush
to reach the grave

Next time
I will mail my prayer
I am in no hurry
to meet my maker

Focus

Human Good needs a focus
just like Evil does
We create God, Jesus
Buddha, Amma, Hitler
Nobody is all good or all bad
We put our power into them
because we are afraid
of our own power to choose
We are so full of our fears
we do not notice
the beggar at the gate
as we stand in line
waiting to receive Grace

For our actions are
like a drop in the ocean
of human need
If we cling together
maybe it will be big enough
to make a sound when it falls

But we are the ocean
and if we all move
in one direction
it will be a tidal wave