in need of grace

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I can’t say your name
or you’ll be real.
And if you’re real
then what happened to you is real.

I can’t look at your photo.
Though you smile
your eyes plead for a reason
and there are none.

I close my eyes and stop up my ears
but your blood cries out from the ground,
“How long? How long?”
And I have no answer.

Some seek revenge
and are satisfied with payments
made in eyes and teeth.
But nothing undoes what has been done.

I shiver
in the cold of human hearts
and turn my eyes to the hills
in search of grace.

moths and rust

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decay and entropy.

(everything swings round in a cycle –
cycles upon cycles within cycles)

in all of creation
man is the only creature
who actively fights cavities and plaque,

who wrestles
(kicking and screaming
biting and clawing)

who grapples with matter
to matter ,

who refuses to believe
(despite the fact that all 10 billion individuals before him
have died)
that he is mortal.

are we
somewhere in our innermost part
remembering a time
before time
when decay and entropy
weren’t part of the equation?

or are we
just afraid
of the unknown?


Two Sides of Yesterday

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Why rehash what’s done?
It’s done.
Echoes in each passage.
Around each corner — a relic of the past.
Leave it be.
It is part of you.
Move on.
The foundation upon which the future lies.
Live in the present.
Enjoy the now.
Disregard the what is gone.
If you run fast enough it will never catch you.
If you don’t face it, the past will imprison you.
Embrace the whole.

for Maya

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natural Pearl
(iridescent gemstone
created to suppress
an annoying parasite)
you blossomed to beauty.

they tried to take you,
throw you before swine,
silence you;  but
in silence
your words grew strong and powerful
and tore apart illusion.

no babbling brook this,
but raging night rain
which emancipates truth.

you spent yourself
holding a mirror up to the world.
we dare not look away.

i will stand

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I will stand.
Though I am confused and frightened,
Weary and worn.

I will stand.
Though the world is in disarray
And children fall never to rise again.

I will stand.
Though the scorching heat sears the land
And the waters rise to drown.

I will stand.
Though I be emptied of all but grace
and lose the only me I know.

I will stand.
And having done all
I stand.

Hunting Woozles

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We circle that tree

that mountain

that wilderness

again and again and again.


Always moving

trudging on

thinking we’re getting somewhere –

but finding ourselves back at GO

(if we’re lucky a few pounds heavier).


Never quite sure,

(Are we running

to or from


but round and round we go.


Then, when we are down

we look up

and catch a sympathetic grin.


What bliss those days

when warm fingers close about ours

and take us home

for Luncheon Time.

you sit

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how quietly you sit.
you will not move
for fear of falling.

the choices are overwhelming

you say.

you just can’t decide

so you will sit.
you sit.

what you don’t seem to understand
is that in your indecision
you have already chosen.

you sit.

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