Thursday, July 21, 2016


the willow weeps for no one
laying roots
burrowing towards earth's center
leading us to water
bending gracefully
casting shadows
reflective light

no sacrifice
in its presence
abiding in its truth of stature
animals, people and soil's advantage
no giving up
rather giving
storms and thunder pierce
its sides
rampant heat curls its leaves
wearing away fresh color
into shedding piles of crushable

it feels no sacrifice
it feels its connection to all time
all conditions and withstands
in its power of giving

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Life for Sale.

His life was for sale, with an auction paddle and a promised check.

Holding the portfolio with its gray concrete pages laden with tissued drawings my heart accelerates, like pedestrians catching the flashing hand at an intersection.  Ready and fired up.

The dense well protected black leather binder, light under my fingers lept to life. Each page still vibrantly hand inked with interior designs, craftfully done.

Who was he? His portfolio, ascribed a B+. Other belongings were perched on top a splintered table and a pair of colorful and worn chairs along boxes without lids containing cufflinks brandished by wear
 and two watches catching the last breaths of bygone days.

Searching in a webbed world, unknown to him, I found him.  Mr. Watler of Gansevoort, New York and formerly of Beeker Street in New York City.

WWII honors
Bank clerk in NYC
Student of NY School of Interior Design
State Assessor, Albany, New York
Never Married
One cousin in Gansevoort, New York
All other relatives deceased

Grasping tenderly at his artwork and design, I imagine his designed life and wonder if anyone ever knew him like I do or cared so much about who he was.

His life was for sale at the auction. I held it in my hands for pennies on the dollar.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Letter from MIdlife Woman

I may appear tired to you
from the frenzy of thoughtless past

I may appear sad to you
from remembrance of sun filled days
of dance and drink

I may appear lost within the stillness
of my core
but none of these things are the truth within my field

The expectation of non commanded adventures
The pensive nature of being me
The restful body capturing light and energy for the next
frolic or peaceful glance

Yes, Midlife Man, I see you as well
a bit ragged, a bit lost
in thought

As circles penetrate each others circumference
there is motion,
there is dance, 
there is acceptance

I wish to collide with you, sliding the doors open to 
unforeseen vistas and quiet acknowlgement of living
living evermore in amazement 

This will come 
in unknown time
 I taste its richness and subtle tenderness

I am not tired,sad nor lost 

simply ready for the new etchings upon this life canvas

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Through The Gate

Coming through the gate
its' handle brandished with others effort
of oiled hands
its' hinges creaking with mild resistance
I pause
Have I been here before?

The ridge rises with openhanded wildflowers
The lupine particularly pink this season

I do remember the blue lupine and the scattered
Indian blanket flowers
The black-eyed Susans waiting for
harsher sun and parched soil

The moss edges the stones from
spring rains
Rains that buried seedlings under
the sandy soil until now

I do remember this place but is brighter now
and perfected in wildness of textures and whispers
Sounds primal and resonating the stirring valley

I cannot turn back this time
I am propelled with older vison to not turn around
This is where I belong
In the wildflowers and in sundrenched vistas
In the wildness of forgotten dreams

The gate closes behind me with the next breeze
I look forward to meeting the next visitor
resting in this place with me

Friday, November 13, 2015


My body's vortex is lifeless
dangling on a string
swaying with the internal winds
to nowhere, from nowhere

The life in me
squandered on created worries
and bold imaginative plays

The life in me
spun outward
spraying its truth and intentions
into the void
Nothing to nuture it into
mature dominion

The life in me
dispersed without telling me
or did I not listen to its prodding
and dramatic performances


Could it be this recognition of life once held
returns lightly on golden wings
places it's rooted core upon my navel?
Where once the breath ignited

I hear you life

I acknowledge life

now our
conversation may reconvene with curious
expansion of the spiral winds


Monday, November 9, 2015

Act LIke Me


  1. Take 4 steps away from the house, remember to take a large glass of water and hairbrush
  2. Plant feet, no shoes allowed, solidly on ground
  3. Reach skyward and outwards with your arms, back and forth
  4. Pay no attention if your torso is straight or not, this is not yoga
  5. Act as if there is honey and feathers attached to your fingertips and flail incessantly for one minute.   Notice how many beautiful feathers are scattered around you.
  6. Swat mosquitoes and wish them good luck elsewhere
  7. Now find a part of your body upon which you can place a silver dollar and set is there
  8. Breathe deeply in and out , finding a perfect resting position for yourself
  9. Next brush your hair and flip it upside down.  Let nature set its perfect style. no mirrors allowed.  See how many strands break off onto the bristles or how many strands or are shed to the ground
  10. By now you are parched , drink your water and wiggle your toes as you do so
Rest until you are ready to go a second round  and if there is sun, you may turn into it

Act like me, a simple tree waiting to shelter you and your silvery gifts
Act like me, a simple tree bridging wind and rain
Act like me, a simple tree reaching as high as I can every day, even when branches have broken
Act like me, a simple tree shedding my nature to help the nature of others.

Look to the other trees for protection.  Welcome critters amongst your branches and let the rain and the underground rivers bring growth and regrowth. Act like me, the simple tree in the corners of your soul

Tuesday, November 3, 2015


Space     void and inert
Floating between past and future

As if this” me “ never swelled into existence
Never wept nor leapt in dance

Peace hovers around each corner that I touch,
 clockwise and counterclockwise
No face of time, no clock to measure

Imagination diminished, this new perception of Now
Not unsettling, not weary with precipitated frolic

Sitting, the striking swirls of nowhere fill my body and soul
Nothing arduous, nothing profound..

My past and my future collaborated into Nothingness,
Immense and expansive the essence of me within the mesh of spirit
 floats in uncharted waters
Silently, unrecognizable,