Saturday 25 2012 That “Still” Place

That “Still” Place

I am in that “still” place…

Even the wind doesn’t blow

No movement in the sage

Coyolte hasn’t been by

Fox sleeps in his den

Quail is somehere else

The branches are bare

Where the Ravens

Usually hang


Beau sleeps in the sun

I am painting

It is “visual poetry”

No words form

In my mind

Or on my lips

Sand is running

Through the hour glass

Crashing to the floor

In slow motion

So quickly

The sun sinks

Into spectacular color

The day isn’t long enough

I look up and even

You are not there

*note:  This is an attempt to explain “where” I am.

February 18, 2011 Sunday Whirl #44

Far From Home

I nestle into my seat

Hear the whistle blow

Toss and turn — restless

Anxious for the destination

The scorched plains of the desert

Follow the shadowy canyons

Sprinkled with seeps

The landscape appears smudgy

As the heat rises

Base camp for ghosts

The blinding sun light

Creates bizarre territory

Balance hard to find

And hard to know the core

Sores appear on heels and ankles

But still I pull up boot straps

Alone in the desert

Far from home

February 15, 2011 A Broken Heart

The Broken Heart

The first tiny crack appeared

Quietly behind the door

My head snapped in the direction

I’m not sure of the cause

In the beginning it was so small

Could only be seen when held to the light

And even tracing your fingernail

Could not be felt

It was more like a small stone

In your shoe

Like a crack in the mirror

It distorted the image

A crack in the cup

Prevents it from holding the tea

A crack in the boat

No longer floats

A crack in the sidewalk

When stepped on

Will break your Mother’s back

Over time the crack grew larger

The surface was crazed

The burden too heavy to carry

I take a deep breath

Imagine the cracks fall away

In the light of the shining sun

My heart seems whole

*I began thinking about the heart… the heart of any human.  Can we remember the first break.  Did it happen one night, we were not aware… something happened somewhere else.  And over time through loss and disappointment, more cracks happened.  And I wanted to think about the cracks and what they do, “distort the image.”  But when all is said and done, we look out and the sun is shinning, everything is so beautiful… the cracks seem to fall away.  All is whole again.

February 11, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl


Wordle #43

No Time for Weeping

I ransacked through

Long held hopes and dreams

The vision is a blur

The future wrapped in fog

Lucky charms hang from my belt

I interview myself

Place stickers on dreams

To be folded and kept

I confide confidentially

I would trade all the customers

For one who understands

No time for weeping

What is done is done

It hangs before you

February 4, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl

Far From Home

I sit among the ruins

Crumbled, rotted, waste

A metallic taste in my mouth

As just before throwing up

The staccato beat of my heart

Crashes loudly in my ears

A dart is thrown

Seeking a target

I am in exile

I walk the desert

Lift the latch

Reveal the scar

The wind throws a billow of sand

Before me

Dirt devils give a petulant twist

Light fuses

Set fires seen in the distance

I accept the present without rebellion

The future is dubious