Unturned Stones

Counting down the years with some remorse 

Breaking through the walls to see some light

Turning over stones better left untouched  

To make all the wrongs somehow right 


It’s hard to be this old and ‘ve not learned enough

Harder yet to be wise and ‘ve learned too much 

Is there really anything to know anyway 

Or are some stones better left untouched


I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet 


Had another restless night remembering  

Woke up clenching that same old stone 

Some stories need no more narration 

Why can’t I leave well enough alone 


I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet


A life spent polishing the unforgiving stone 

is finally laid to rest

Bejeweled by the roughest stones 

They say she looks her best


I’m gonna ride into the wilderness 

To feel the wind 

Blowing through the cottonwood trees 

and chase the wind until it falls asleep 

to rest on the stone’s at my feet

Too Fast

Stephie left for KU Monday. 
In a U-haul. 

I am still standing in the driveway watching her drive off.
Too fast, of course. 

She turns right and the truck leans left. 
I am sure everything we so carefully packed is now in a pile against the left wall. 
Slow down! I plead 
Waving both arms dramatically as if I hold flags landing a plane.
 As if she can see me. 
As if she might look in her rearview mirror for my guidance. 
She does not. 

No matter. 
She has a left hand turn ahead. 
It will all even out before she finally arrives. 
Too fast. 

Yes. 
It all goes way too fast. 

Defining Defined Describe

Defining the stages of life is defying life. I am – – – defined by – – – Am I really defined by anything. Describe how it feels to be so sick of “now” that you leave “now” for another time.

Some of us have to know to feel safe. Others feel unsafe the more they know.

Neither really knows – do they.

They just play with experiences and memories to understanding something. But what is there to understand? Or know? The stages of grief? Ok. Schrodinger’s quantum mechanics model? For some. Perhaps we might just learn something by not knowing. What do you think about that!

Defining

Writers the world over love words. The sound of a word that depicts the experience and builds on the readers felt sense to a point of being there. Precision matters to a poet. Words have meanings! They do. Each word counts. So why is it that we want to define this world for each other to see our view and evoke our audience to experience what we see?

I don’t know.

Defined

Settling into a defined state of anything diminishes everything. Yet we all play with our role and others views of our “self”. Worst of all we believe them. The I that is not me and those in the audience ready to define me in some absolute way. Nope.

Describe

Describe what it means to hold your child. Describe the feeling to the person who caused you to feel it. Describe why it matters to you that… try feeling and sensing. Try holding on to what you “know” with a loose grip. And then stop trying and when you’re ready, stop telling stories and just soak in the experience.

Free Thinking 1

What new could be said about our freedom to think? I think therefore I am or, between stimulus and response is the freedom to choose. Perhaps a play on presencing to tap into our continuous state of now might get us somewhere closer to this notion of free thinking.

Just imagine a world where we mutually accept our different views. I know, it’s hard. But play along…

From a thousand miles into space this earth is a spherical object. To us it is not. Imagine a future where we see our extreme or binary thoughts as dinosaurs. What then?

Sitting in my back yard pondering this notion of being free, I stopped long enough to wonder what that really meant. So I captured a staged image of that un-staged moment.

Broken and Whole

I am not a singer, yet I love to sing. 

I am a believer, filled with doubt. 

I am a loner. And, I love people. 

I am full of life. And yet oddly broken. 

I am driven, and tired. 

I am hungry, yet satisfied. 

I care too much, and not at all. 

I love getting close, yet feel distant.

I am entrepreneurial, yet afraid of risk.

I am broken, and I’m also whole!

In my brokenness, I’ve given my errors in life too much power. 

I’d become someone I didn’t recognize. 

In my wholeness, I am a dreamer. I know that I know that I know my purpose. 

Yet I’ve listened to countless dream killers and shied away from my dreams.

No more! My dreams are sacred. My journey is clear. My story is unfolding within as I re-awaken to the I am that I am. 

It feels good to be home. 

Super Moon

Not looking up,

I look left. 

Out the plane window, at the impressive orange globe rising 

Directly beside my heart.

A statement of “More”.

There is more. 

More beauty to see and more flavor to taste

If I just allow the light to pour into my eyes and over my tongue.

More love in this world and more love to be felt

If I uncover my heart and radiate my light.

Allowing more…

Fearlessly,

Like the Super Moon.

The super moon discovered the secret.

Became its fullness.

by allowing more Sun. 

It absorbs the maximum intensity 

And reflects it with zealous abandon

To show unabashedly its own brilliance.

It has become the Sun’s mirror

Allowing me to see my own potential 

With my light-fearing eyes.          

It is difficult to look in the mirror and see my full truth

In all its blazing nakedness.

It’s okay… It’s just that

I Am 

Too bright for My own eyes.

Cleansed

Early morning. The wind nudged the open window before swirling into our bedroom. Fresh pre-storm air washed over us. I looked over at Kelly, she was tucked into her cocoon and seemingly out cold. I watched.

The calm cleansing air surrendered to the storm as the beating rain followed the wind into our room. I jumped out of bed to close the window. “Are there other windows open?” Kelly must have felt the same embrace I did. “I’ll check.” I closed our door and walked around the house. Although the sounds of the growing storm didn’t make it easy to detect an open window, they were all closed. I returned to the center of our living room and looked out our many windows at the awesome display.

I walked outside to feel the enormity of this powerful energy and stayed there for some time. I felt my troubled thoughts wash away. Quieting amidst the turbulent energy felt natural.

In an hour, everything changed. The sky turned blue, birds sang, wind quieted, and I watched the morning become. In a matter of minutes, all that remained was this feeling of being cleansed.

The March of the Lilies in February

With the fireplace burning and the snow caked on the trees outside my window, 

I sit beside my vase of Starburst Lilies.

Their huge blossoms are like mouths opening wide, screaming for spring.

The petals that were brave enough to unfurl in this snow storm, do so commandingly 

and without repression. 

They are all-in and demanding change.

Even the newly emerging buds evoke the call of the trumpet

in an attempt to escort spring down February’s winter aisle. 

Their coquettish shape blowing kisses to the crowd. 

They know how to use their wiles. 

Nature can be such a tease.

The shyer unopened buds offer a more submissive and phallic enticement 

to ensure all preferences can be satisfied. 

My lilies know their audience. 

After all, Miss Mother Nature is the dominatrix

that runs this show –

Is she not?

Spring Cleaning the House of Cards

Falling back. Into the house of cards. Sifting and shedding. Cleaning out the closets. How can such a small forgotten space hold so much slipshod? Throwing out used up beliefs. Time to burn the old tapes. The stench is nauseating. Open the fucking windows! Let the air in. Breathe the freshness. Winter is over. Sit in a sunbeam and absorb nature’s hug. Beam me up, Scotty! Why limit yourself to the view of four walls and a closed door? Raise the shades first if caution is a must, but at least peak at what you are missing. When you glimpse the expansive beauty of the field, you will want to explore! And why not? Our house is HERE in the middle of the field for a reason. Explore the field! Come back under the roof for shelter as needed, sure. But we must open the fucking windows! Let in the light! How can we make the best decisions in life and work with only stale, overused, cold, dark air thick with the dust of the ages? Open the windows and let the fresh exhale of the universe blow away the stagnancy. Let clarity visit. Or, even better, open the door and step out! It is only a house of cards after all. What can it possibly shelter you from? Breathe deeply and become the exhalation yourself. Be the breath of fresh air the world is gasping for… Blow the old house of cards out of the way!