Monday, December 22, 2008

Enjoying the Christmas tree,
& the convivial suppertime together,
I noticed in the fire
a salamander,
calmly burning,
& keeping an eye on us.

Sunday, November 30, 2008


At my son's place for Thanksgiving
Backwards in time
All sense of display

Now we're Home

The new Christmas tree is bare
waiting in its appointed corner
for its moments of glory

all lit up w/no place to go

We sit around, still stuffed
& content, for awhile,
thanks to the energies of other beings
sacrificed to our human needs
until the next wave of celebrating
presents itself

Hey, isn't there always something
to look up to?

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Well, during this waning moon,

I have established a composting system

of garbage cans & a worm farm....

Like Paul Muad-Dibh,

I am breathlessly

still waiting for worms, though.

I 'm de-clutterring again so that

I can enjoy the holidays.

It has been hard for me to break my cable news addiction.

I'm still working on that, struggling to remain



the way my meditation teacher told me



Came across this op-ed today:

It's, at the very least, literate & gentle,

& says much more than it says.

So, I'll move along now, myself,

to the garden plans & optimistic propagation

of sassanqua camellias

& other things,

work that is actually fun.

Reminded me of Todd Rundgren, somehow:


Hey, why not?

Have a great Saturday!

Monday, October 27, 2008

Scary times

build us stronger

strengthen the heart

addle the mind

something inside says

Try Again

Turn the focusing collar

right, left

Line it up


Let it Flow

Deja Voodoo - Kenny Wayne Shepherd

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Who's Courting Your Reptilian Brain?

Please forgive me for getting political again

I suppose elections, even for class president

have always fundamentally appealed to the reptilian brain base

the simplest, reflex-based system

that never dreams

only lives to survive

at any cost

the little fight or flight button

that ramps up the adrenal glands

the most basic part of the brain

that lies beneath

the higher-thinking neocortex

that makes us human.

Certainly the Mad Men of the 50's understood this human trait,

& their adventures with it helped to create Today.

By now we're so acclimated to it

we might not even notice while it's working us.....

I just wanted to send this thought out there:

PLEASE carefully evaluate the claims

& strategies popping up all over the place.

Consider the source.

Consider what it's appealing to....





It's up to us to understand ourselves
make the difference.

Saturday, September 20, 2008


The season turns again
latest details
Floating along
but not

Monday, September 8, 2008


The same door at the Kimbell
under rain clouds
Mercurial spirit
into my empty head

Monday, August 18, 2008


I'll be seeing you
in all the new unfamiliar places
I'll be on the move
(Oscar Mike)
until I get all squared away
& stop this incessant parroting
of things I watched on TV
& have a better grasp
of my own true voice
even if only bits of it

But I always always always
mean well.

Everything About It Is a Love Song - Paul Simon

Sunday, August 10, 2008

You're my Blue Sky, You're my Sunny Day

There is a panel of blue sky
in the emergency room at Sacred Heart
& you sat there bundled into a flimsy blanket
shivering & scaring the life out of me

The doctor looked like Elvis
jet black hair
pale blue eyes
sideways grin

I suppose we were a novelty
the two of us
among the nosebleeds
baseball injuries
& noisy sufferers
the regulars

you said

We were the irregulars
paying the price
for living so well
except for the small detail
of dental floss
over time

Later, while you slept,
you seemed such an Innocent
there in Clear Conscience Land
I sat on the beach
making mental fun
of my many companions
admiring the real sky
the coral umbrella
(very flattering to the skin, that light)
the emerald fluff's eternal minuet
reflecting upon the sturm und drang

and I just could not help smiling
& bopping a little to the iPod choices
I made before we left
not regretting
a single one

In the Sky - Mark Knopfler

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Say Something

It could mean anything

it could say




It could be some forgotten

of original thought

It could say

This way to the dead leaf


I am usually invisible

It could be a parody
of Alfred Hitchcock

It could be shedding its skin

or feeling life wiggle

inside herself

& stopping to savor that

Tuesday, July 8, 2008


I caught something wonderful today!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008


An offer I could not refuse
this blue dragonfly
& unnoticed companion(s?)
claiming an outpost
on a battered post
sat long minutes


gazing NNW for some reason
known only to the dragonfly

Sloooooow putters on the green
lining 'em up like Ben Crenshaw

gave me time to play my own game

Women Will Rule the World - Ry Cooder

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Back on Track

Marking Time
the fan blades whirring into one shadow
wings fanning into one blur
hummingbird wings
alial elevation
both feet on the ground
trudging along behind the lawn mower
I salute
the persistence of weeds
& briars
& the bright haze
surrounding the Summer Moon.

Summers Here - James Taylor

Monday, June 9, 2008


I've been kind of blue
after the demise of the cardinal babies.

One was too big for the nest,
& tipped out the whole lot,
judging from the empirical evidence
I found.

What I found...

broke my heart for awhile.


I'll pull a few weeds,

set out the hummingbird feeders

take care of a few other details,

& continue to observe

Nature's Way.

Lullaby Baby Blues - Keb Mo

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Bird Business

I saw the brilliant father stop by
perched on a patio chair--
couldn't get a good shot, though,
& the mother, whose dishevelment,
evidently resulting from just sitting
for so long, endeared her forever to me--
her topknot in such disarray.

But now she's sleek again, & assertive,
a grain of something that looked like a bit of dried corn
glowing within her golden orange beak.

The way she waits for the biggest chick
to stand down so she can reach the smaller ones,

& her fierce pride, flying in the face
of bluejays taunting
like juvenile delinquents on a subway,

or well-meaning humans.

When I approach the window,
from inside my own house,
inside, with camera or coffee cup,
she flies at the glass & her entire
demeanor says



So I keep in the shadow of a curtain
watching from time to time
as I pass by on other duties
to spy on the progress.

This rich blessing of time--
to love & observe the birds
their colors
their cries...

I leave a small pile of popcorn
just outside the door

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Art Lesson

After twisting & turning

for 2,000 miles, only

for the reward of a 50-mile view,

& s-curves of the road left to travel

back down,

I found myself in Death Valley

on a road so straight

that the vanishing point


Transparence - Charlie Haden/Gonzalo Rubalcaba

Sunday, May 11, 2008


This time of morning last Sunday
I was so tired
so tired
so tired
so tired of the blessings

I'd driven over the Sierra Nevada
spotted oil wells dotting the Llano Estacado
such beautiful names
for a wilderness
a wilderness

I've been miles deep in caverns
observing the roots of our art forms
toasted with fine wine
chilled by the Pacific's blue
become acquainted with deer
& contented cows

snapped away at picturesque
water fountains
& the majestic Grand Canyon
surrounded by French people
with their mellifluous sounds
spent time with my ambitious son 
touring the impossible lighthouse
overlooking a beach with the highest
concentration of white sharks in the world
viewed ancient Egyptian relics
seen a very fine breakfast or two
& a movie that left me wondering
what it means to love something

I loved it all

so much

The face above all others I saw
in Winslow, Arizona
a young Indian baby girl
profoundly sleeping on her father's shoulder
an elderly woman in Wal-Mart
sitting on a bench, waiting
(Was it for me?)
Her white bone adornments
She was so beautiful
that now the memory of her face
brings tears to mine

it was all so wonderful

that last Sunday morning
at just about this time
my weariness caused me to plow
several yards into the profusion
of black-eyed susans & queen anne's lace
gracing the median strip

I was only an hour from home

just like they say it could happen

There was a mist, 
the only drops of moisture
I had seen coming from clouds
the entire trip

A mist raining down just over the top of my car...

as if it were a personal rain

falling in through the open window

resuscitating the flowers

& me

Now I know there is something more

I always thought  

that there must be

Now I know there is

& it is 


Monday, April 14, 2008


This is just to say
that all is well
I had a dream
that is coming true
& for that I humbly
thank the Universe
every moment
dreams coming true

Monday, March 31, 2008

Crepuscule With Nellie

Some lights & darks
I remember the first time I met Mimi
She didn't tell me then,
only years later,
that my face & form reminded her
of the only grandmother she had known,
this woman whose tintype
defies sharp focus

There is some connection here, although
I don't feel a physical resemblance.

Something about the eyes
morphs in the series
of lowlight shots I took

Something flows
from our lives
into other lives

We're never truly alone

This woman was Mimi's Grandpa's
younger second wife
after his first love died in childbirth
producing Mimi's wild mother

This one took care
took care
took care
took care

She took care

& left to me
some of her

Tuesday, March 18, 2008


I found this flower among other things
last Friday as I waited for a car repair
Then I read about the God Hunter
& realized such color
is related to despair

I have known certain people
whose pleasure is despair
(Despair is their pleasure
is what I meant)

They are often poets, I find,
whose eyes & ears are always hungry,
always reaching for the truth
always dreaming a New World

On the other side of Despair,
once you break through it,
is the flower of your thoughts
that returns in cycles.

Even a child can banish despair
with one rich chuckle

Even a bug can banish despair
wiggling its antenna

Even a flower only a few millimeters wide
can banish despair by holding still
for its close-up in a breeze

Do what you can find to do,
or as much as is possible to do,
which is to admit despair
which is to admit hope
which is to sing or dance
your highs & lows & middles

you are the god & the goddess

you are the Chosen One

Monday, March 17, 2008


For weeks now, I have been obsessed
with the color white
even though the acid green
of spring flows down from the sky
white, white, here, there, even the sun
behind clouds assumes a pall of white

Maybe I missed the snow
did not get my fill
of winter white

But I have learned that colors speak

They guide me to the things
that are needed

So this brilliant day spent
following mundane tasks

a new fuse drove the flower
of thoughts

to metal & to white

in my shirt brown as a wren

even as colors resound

gaudy pink beginning to shout

the blue, magnificent, subtle,
the white of clouds
every shade of gray
the spectrum


into pixels & bytes

of myself

Tuesday, March 11, 2008


If I pay attention


to what is happening


All The World


to be looking back

at what I perceive

to be


But it's only

my chemicals

seeing this

noticing that

& then interpreting

the Beautiful

the Happy

the Sad

all the categories

I'm looking for


out there

which is to say

in here

which is to say....

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

The Other Side

The morning I first saw the harbingers,

I had been worried about my blood pressure--

what things elevate it,

what things calm it down:

Swimming lazily forward

without a ripple

forward, turn, back,
forward, turn, back,

the air filling up & releasing,

my shoulders gliding along

all the while I think





But, oh,

how I love the ones that elevate.

They say

Come Alive!

The World is full of so many Special Opportunities


Welcome to the New World!

Like the dove said without saying

when it landed on the windowsill

holding a green twig,

its shadow flickering

in the watery light.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Dark Into Light

A poem comes from your body,


your poem is not your body.

Your body dreams a poem.

Your poem is a dream body.

Your poem is your dream’s

tombstone to the world.

It says

Thanks for Everything.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Chemicals, That's ALL

OXYTOCIN & VASOPRESSIN are released......

Researchers can make prairie voles
fall in love—or whatever the vole
equivalent of this is—with an injection.

LOVE . . . .

…lies bleeding
……in a mist
…to love you BABY
……a-ah a-ah a-ah ! ! !

Blinded with science
is a dove in the rocks.
A bunch of grapes
springs like a gazelle!

My delicate fingertips drip with myrrh…
lips crush like honeycomb…
knocking at your gate……I will build
a willow cabin— — —we will stay up late…
and in the morning make perfect crispy waffles !

Negotiate the baffles……
Engineer pointless raaaaaaafffffflllllllleeessssss…
Rhyme purple with orange …
Answer like a chipped brick wall…

Mmmmmy harmmmmmmonious

Apple of Desire,

The Voice of the Turtle m-m-m-m-mocks
The sound of one hand CARESSING.…
Light one candle…
Never curse the Darkness!

(Even The Gideons have to economize
in this day of enfeebled charities!)

If the prairie voles are fools enough,
my Jewel of Ten Thousand Things,
with this Onion-ring I thee bed……
It’s all in our heads,
since science has shown
we’ve no will of our own.
We’re creatures of our amino acids— —
and what do they really know?

Not much.


Sunday, February 3, 2008


I'd been suffering a bad cold
just lying around like a feverish lizard
but after two days got tired of it
& ventured out to a poetry meeting
with a couple of strange conglomerations
of lines intended to be wryly humorous
or nobly Stoic, maybe you know me
maybe you don't, well,
probably you don't
This is so because I barely know myself
which is why I needed that meeting
to get some inspiration from old friends
even though they write the same themes
again & again
& that's part of them
part of their particular appeal
but then
when it's my turn
& this could just be my impression
well it obviously must be my impression
but after my turn there is general approval
but often someone or other of them
remains gazing at a ceiling tile
or tapping a pen on a notepad
but nobody asks a question
because it is generally assumed
that I have once again
skirted around my central theme
as playfully as usual
using funny words
juxtaposing concepts
like Pink Floyd coinciding
with white truffle searches
among the shredded coconut
that packs my head & a penchant
for supernumerary avatars
& a chorus of dubious laughter
Anyway I took a walk around the gardens
& snapped the shot above
the fading camellia
the honeybee
but after such riches, such luxury
a white mist, a cloud, lay on the surface
of the local bayou, & a lazy plume of fog
encircled a bare cypress tree
& I missed my camera, not to mention
adequate safety to pull over out of traffic
open the window & inhale that view
by the time I got back, the mist had cleared
the bare cypress tree looked winter dead
instead of about to ascend to heaven
just plain, casting spiky shadows now
around the cormorants' favorite haunt
So I was caught feeling sad to have missed
that opportunity, what might have been,
what was that never had been, nor will it ever
be the same again.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Happy New Year

Last night I ventured out into the cold
to see the stars in the blackest sky
amateur fireworks burst here and there
the popular color being green, lime green

off the shoulder of Orion, I thought

like tears in rain

I thought

the sad companion left behind
with his woes

with his dreams of women

surgically enhanced women

and his foolishness

He just doesn't get it

thinks it's all written on the outside

an open book

if the proportions cohere

I thought

and his grief just makes me tired

(compassion being quite inconvenient at times)

and I thought of my own foolishness
and avoidance of resolutions
other than digital images
which are the only ones that count to me now
that speak to me

I'm planning a trek
across the part of my country
between here and California
parts I have never seen except in photos
and movies
I'll bring along my dog and my cameras
and a cell phone and a laptop
and a nutritional system of my own devising
no tent, just an SUV

I could be dreaming, but the idea
could really grow on me
could become more possible
with each passing day

There was a time I felt a constant companion
but that entity checks in with me less often now
and I keep hoping



that when the time is right

I'll see the light

and hear the music

and dance. . .