The Weight of the Blanket of Love

It is different this year
For the hole is hand stitched
With the thread that I lost
Then re-found and re-fit

And the tear covered fingers
Of hand to the face
Are changing the vacancy
To knowledge and grace

Can you see how the empty
Really waits to be filled
And the fabric of time
Is sewn with heart’s skill

And the sweet smell of sunshine
Still hangs on the fence
Within the lost pages
Of life’s circumstance

So don’t worry my darling
Where ever you are
Is a minute just now
And then gone but not far

Though the road may seem empty
When the skin feels the cold
 the weight of my heart
Is the blanket you hold

The Loss Ladder

The ladder is lost in the slow creep of vines

laced to the seasons with rain keeping time

forward the laying of names and their place

enhanced with engravings that memory has traced

 

 

Reminders drift down from the trees each new year

delighted the waiting is no longer for tears

change turns the leaves of October to blazing

and the sadness of mauve has fallen out of my daydreams

 

 

I remember the feel of the brush in my hand

down her tangle of curls in the dampness of morn

still the length of her smile in my dreams after midnight

can still open the time of that long ago storm

 

 

Now smoke and ashes dig into the hillside

and fasten the rocks from out of my past

yet will always be present in my still breathing chest

where the cradle still cuddles with my once aching breath

 

 

I can see now how dying is another beginning

the song sung within life's cadence is a test

as a lullaby bubbles and rock a byes others

I've learned each new step on the ladder is the best

To Weave a Basket

The marsh twilight's deep staining feet

across the stone bridge I to keep

there filigree of music starts

to weave a basket of my heart

Such variant day in wind a change

touched by opening package lain

alive from powder’s fragile mist

across the whispered light of kiss

I go there to the cave of be

lit from reflected waters three

one rippled softly from my breath

one still as never moving chest

The third reflects the inside view

all dappled sunlight shadow hued

with sweet of longing bending near

a drop in time spread out in tear

I pull the plug within my soul

to empty cobwebs staining goal

and there in feathered imagery

I catch a hint of destiny

It like a coral ocean floor

distributes time through moonlit door

to see it sow imagining

and mend hurt flower fragmenting

Hold it up ‘tis sweet as sky

studded star sung lullaby

a canopy of slanted light

reflected from the fire of sight

Pull time across the plains of earth

into waterfalls exploding mirth

then watch the healing from the wound

of drinking drought by time perfumed

It’s plain as dirt on cavern floor

and light as whispered evermore

all parts be held or felt in clasp

from answered wisdom of the past

It is what stillness brings around

and listening pulls from warming found

in opening life times mending seam

to shake out dust from field of dreams

The marsh twilight deep staining feet

across the stone bridge I to keep

there filigree of music starts

to weave a basket of my heart

Finding Something to Smile About

There is a difference
in the way trees react to wind.

One is still,
looking over the roof of the house,
its branches hold grace by holding back,
with a kind of regal symmetry
it keeps its leaves intact.

The tree just behind it is moving all around
and I can feel the music of its dance
upon my own skin now.

Like a jumpy kid in line to buy a toy,
it can’t hide the excitement of air that moves in joy,
and the sound of leaves like rushing streams
is music I hold dear,
yet without the stately charm of the other
would the song be quite as clear?

Lay Me Down Gently

Lay me down gently;
I am worn smooth.
A hand can slide across my skin
and not be aware of the striations
from time's window wrapped there.

The umber of my hair
is like shade on sunlight,
and silk to the finger's touch;
slipping through the weave
leaves a song
that passes the bleeding ache of need,
not noticing the cusp of time
in balance there.

I am singing again with the youth
of loud exuberance
and my opera pleases me.
Light the window of my expression
and feel me scratch you with my fingernails
filled with dirt ... damp and determined.

Where are my wings then?

High and mighty there is a place
long past the sky or any crazy bird;
it flies with colors that have no words
and doesn't need explanation.
One day I will know the way there.

Come to me in the twilight,
as the sky descends into the warm earth
and the last flying bat snaps the smallest wing.
Lie down in the tall grass and listen.

The crickets will be stopped
by our rustling breath's loud whirr.
Catch my mouth as you exhale
and lick my fragile lower lip
to still the quiver.

Lay me down gently.

Moon Glow

Do you remember what midnight said
all up lit the moon almost
in the slow steady stealth of leaves
couldn’t believe
the opening of gates and windows
and all the pretty songs
sniff sniffing along the path
behind the bush a majesty so small
there were pearls that were rocks before
and the road across the pond was held still
by the grace of sleeping fish

We were all wrapped up
in the color that crossed the room
when the drizzle of some madness took me
to see what dark of sky was for
around the bend of canopy candle lit still
like mosquito netting the smoke I blew
and unlit the thing that was weaving motion
and opened the door alive alight with focus
left for just this sweet of me all open can’t you see
and some how for one moment I was free

Sacramento

Sacramento, California


Come morning
I see as geese do the river
because the sky to my eye
is what geese see

Sound holds them together
formation affirmation
the river a path to the green pleated grass
and the woven fields of corn
even bright heads of sunflowers
to the vine-covered trees
blackberry brambles and tule grasses
of the delta

That cool delta breeze
makes a song from just leaves
and blesses the wind chimes
awake through the night
in the quiet forgotten

Shadows fall from houses
where heat closes windows
and kisses tomatoes
until plump and ready
to settle the meaning
that was never a question

I thought that the sun
slipping into the ocean
had the curve of a love song
wrapped in its cheek
until I saw it melt
in the river beside me
swallowing diamonds
around my bare feet

Softly the pigeons sip from the morning
dipping reflection from just watered lawns
knowing life is always delirious with change
and lasting like love and front doors
finds the way home just like geese do

       

Taming the Wind

Taming the Wind

All twirlygigged and twist of arm
can you see it in the flay
the branch is bent this way and that
and the wings all feather perfect are open
laying on the finest thread
a clean swoop onto the branch
that caught the triangle tissue in despair
how find the flow and how repair

It’s in a grace that feels the pull
though just a string it catches fold
of how the current speaks like dance
and hand on small of back just so
seduces the movement into flow

yet from watch of day all blue on blue
how catch and hold the play
or find the perfect tale
to spin again into the feel like that
on this earthbound today

Of Harmony

Of Harmony

I take this thought all fragile with disquiet
and lay it on the purple hue of sunset
until you can hear the color that I long
like skin it warms until it's soft
then melts like footsteps wet on sidewalk
lost in fragments then just gone

Slow a minute then and wait for me
for I am not as quick as I used to be
and I look around sometimes and feel fear take me
to places where bitter truth is painted dark
by treasured sacred piece of me my heart

This brittle life can be so surrounded in a light
that in the last small piece of sun
it strikes a cord like just begun
then winks one last look into the pale ascent
lost in crowds all heaven bent to pay respect
to the monument that ashes build

Give then with tip of head and lowered eyes
a thought to peacefulness inside
perhaps then all with struggles will hit their knees
and listen to the way a chorus sounds of harmony

Hummingbird

Hark, the stir of wings.

Holding on to air
is the quickening sound;
don't dare interrupt the flow;
make quiet your watch, not caught.

The dignity of a spear
assaults the flowing tresses
bunched and pressed there;
leaning into the drifting breeze,
lithe with zip-twirl,
the road an airway;
it supped at bird-stop,
filled-up with sweetest fuel,
then stopped before my wonder-face
and dared the air between us.

The Night the Sky Exploded

Can we open that night again
when the moon curved around its shadow
and the air hummed
as we watched the night explode
across the western sky

cascading chartreuse ribbons
as whistling energy erupted into coins
that melted behind the palm trees
and turned to sand along the beach
that waited in the horizon

and I could see the musk and sultry strands
of my life fizzle and turn to wishes
as the moon burned in the ocean
and you just smiled
as your hand held the sky against my cheek

I am Hand

A song made from deep look tremble
with tone of one finger drawn on skin
across the scrape of twilight
grace is caught naked in my expression

I pull a ruffled demure
and sweep back hair
as if its sail would stop the breeze

I marry with warm
absorb the knowing of holding something
and somatically learn
what was left unsaid

I speak heart tongue
fragile strong give tender

Capable culpable paired to task
into the wielding of weight and fragile
I can stop a baby’s cry
and bring a love to tears

I am hand
my roots are blue twigs
that flow the heart river
and take it to the reach of further
to grasp at chance and hold on tight

for in the lake she thinks too big
I am the magic ripple

Be still like the pond...
reflection explains
how seeing is inside,
never let down
always wet

Precious Good-Dog

Precious Good-Dog

striking the leather of a boot hard worked
again and again her tongue took rout
to polish the long bones and invisible shine
to reach the unforgiving ache inside

striped sunlight and dappled porches
clouds on her back
shaking the rope with tooth full grin
a tennis ball and a shoe will do

a lap at ready play come kiss
the slip of paw on arm come rest
wake up now the suns at ready
hunger is not meant to wait past four
or any door be closed to the need

A walk along Precious good dog sniffer
joyful nose dipped touch to whatever comes
from each days newly discovered dredge
she found not lost the minutes never gone

dear furry length of old dog cuddle
now gone to comfort of death come take
May opened the gate of not enough time
and took Precious Good-Dog across the line
away from the ache of missing that's mine

RIP Feb 1999 to May 2011

Morning

This wing
of morning creeps
across the nape of grass
onto the path with a piece of sun
that warms this small slice of cement
where I stand feeling its fingers of sweet breath
across the cheek of miles
as a minute winks past
ignoring my need
to hold it
longer

Cattails

Cattails...
old ladies still straight but dry
declining to dance with the air
the nests of spring are stuffed
with their gray hair

Sun, Fun, Sky

Fun Sun Sky Try

I am lifting the white from sky
Sifting it into a powder dry
To swirl with my silver spoon
To drink this mist off bloom of blue

Who dare inhibit the sky not I
I just want to blow some haze away
And dust the corners of the trees
Where spiders web has caught the leaves

I’d play in all this spring green thought
In dappled light be caught with naked face
And a bit of sunshine’s grace just out of reach
Of times great sweeping hand I can

Disturb the way that things must flow
A rhythm slow I’ll take to fast then dance this dream
With blues the beat and barefoot tapping dirt touched feet
To keep this drain from seeping out the pool’s cool rule

For I would make the water warm and sky to storm
Without a doubt I’d cry the rain all over me
And live as if mother nature be in tree
And with a whim lift up my chin with smile beguile

Epiphany

My daughter, Michelle, died in 1974 from Reye's Syndrome. She was eight years old. She had been sick with the mumps and I gave her baby aspirin for the discomfort. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with her and gave her more aspirin in a suppository to help the vomiting. She died a day later. It was that year that the Reye's Syndrome Foundation was founded.
http://www.reyessyndrome.org/


When I was two, I was close to death with symptoms very much like Reye's Syndrome. I had just recovered from chickenpox when they began. The doctors did not know what was wrong with me, either. I suspect that I was also given
aspirin.


I believe that the girl in the bed next to me in the hospital was my connection through time, to Michelle. She read to me and her presence gave me something very special, even though I never saw her face and only heard her voice. She was 8, the age Michelle was when she died from Reye's. I don't know how I know this, but I do. Michelle and I had already agreed to be there for each other, (on the other side of death), to comfort-hold life with precious appreciation and joy.

I've wondered often about that girl that read to me for what seemed like endless time when I was so little....and now I'm sure that she was a
manifestation of Michelle. The doctors didn't know how to treat what I had, because they didn't know what it was. My veins were too small for them to get any kind of IV fluids into me, and I was told later that I was in a coma and near death. A young intern thought to give me fluids by injecting them under the skin. I began to improve. I think the girl telling the story in her bed next to me had as much to do with it as did the intern. This is still the story, only my hands now hold the book.
----------------------------------------

EPIPHANY

The room is blurry.
A cloth partition hums
with words from a story book.
I love the girl that is reading to me
from the other side.
She is sick too.
I think the story is real.
Stay awake an echo tells me,
this is too sweet to miss

but I fade in and out.
I am two
I tell the girl beside me
lost in the tall grass of time;
she smiles her words,
reading on into the drift of me.

She is eight and reads like angels
lifting clouds,
with each word comes
a dancing of choir,
making the compartment of my bed
into a meadow-come-spring.

We are woven, she and I
into a story
that happens many years away,
then tells itself again
as I hold her across the partition,
knowing the kindness of death
has painted the cloth again.

Hello February

Welcome to my life this day is blue
and I have learned a thing or two since last we met
though snow lays grounded in some places tease
the dappled sun in me feels blessed and pleased

Don’t try to freeze me till I break
I am most sure and filled with light
even in the night I dream of lavender wings
in joyful reminder that I no longer ache

She decided long ago to go
and I've mourned my love to show
for many years I looked at February
as a month of fearful tragedy
now I see grief as a learning tool
one must pass through like any school
and I'll no longer show my love with sad
but rather in understanding love is glad

How about this
I let February be a place to see
a new flow within my stream
where loosened the rage of loss explores
the rippled lake of Evermore

not because I have forgotten Michelle
but choose to feel her love's warm spell
all the time