Beauty and Strangenessdrop to the sandcome, get the ropes(who are, after all, not mildbut militant)I don't think I am old yet,half asleep,notall at once but steadilyI know I have already livedWords found in Mary Oliver's book of essays Upstream and rearranged to my heart's content. I found the words, but was careful not to copy… Continue reading On Beauty and Strangeness
I'm gonna be honest, I'm looking forward to this daily writing challenge being over. I'm tired of prose. I miss poetry. I miss not making any sense, but making the most sense at the same time. I don't wanna write coherent sentences anymore. But I must. I'm sticking to the challenge. I almost switched into… Continue reading On Honesty
Today I wandered into a cemetery filled with palm trees and cracked stone. I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Everywhere I turned, there was life demanding to be acknowledged. A baby palm tree pushing up from the grass. An iguana sunning itself on a grave. A bird alighting on a post. It didn't… Continue reading On Decay
Honestly, it was the most fun I've had in awhile. I sat on the porch of a cafe this afternoon, eating banana bread and sipping a café con leche, and writing about the people I saw. Here are some of the 'characters' that inspired me today. Old guy with defined abs drives a golf cart… Continue reading On People
childhood dream place wings and moss in abundance light shining through us
I live in my dreamsI haunt realitymy mother sings to meshe sings me to sleepReality doesn't have much to give me I'd rather be sleeping and hide in my dreamsawake I can't breathethe light is so heavyasleep I can seethe colors wide and deepReality doesn't have much to give meI'd rather be sleeping and hide… Continue reading Reality
sit with megaze into spacecan you hearthe stars embracestay with meon the bridgeblankets upto the edgeof our facesof our chinsbreathing placeswe've never been I know, I know youI know, I know it's hardthe meteor may never comebut there are songs yet to be sungthe meteor is slow to fallbut you and I talk through it… Continue reading Meteor
for my dadThe stones that we left there are calling to meHave they grown into boulders? Or rolled to the sea?It's a myth, oh father, that we carry these stonesBut the memory heals us, so we're no more aloneYou show me the water splashed up on the stonesYou bring out the beauty in Earth's grey-green… Continue reading Kyoto
mug of tea, you sit there so silently you make it look easyto simply be maple tree, bending in the breezeyou seem so happyyou seem so freeI'm not looking for much - just a little relief,just a hunger for touch. And a place I can breathe,a place I can be happy. river wide, taking life… Continue reading Breathe
childhood dream placewings and moss in abundancelight shining through us
The Human Poet 