~
I remember
arms and legs
working
everything into my mouth
pebbles dirt bees
I sang the earth
running rubber knees
kicking the sky swing
standing where the rain just……..stopped
laden fruit trees
~
I was used to shining light in the dark
glasses in the sun
hiding blindness
running ahead
while looking back
I trip upon the truth
~
now that I am on
the outside of the mountain
~
I’m trusting
that
love knows
~~~
~~
~
~
photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jp_42/4930340343/
~
words are stirring
~
no longer flattened
laid down in a line
left right left right
singular
referencing
~
hear
the
echo
echo
echo
?
~~
~
photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/h-k-d/6021327208/
~
I don’t fear melting into this earth.
Each morning
I wake into the air
I do not rise I do not move
I do not open my eyes
until my nose has sensed persuasion
my tongue has tasted sweetness
and my ears have heard the world
~
I was a child with dreams of becoming
Now I am older with dreams of being
~
Transformed
Nothing and everything is changing.
I am like a snake shedding its skin
and
biting its tail
~
erasing the lines
of time
~
shadowing all poets
looking for voice
Outdistancing condensations of time
Treading lightly upon soiled shores
Eroding titled consensus
Unifying mismatched ethos
Upending obscurity
Surprising bare feet
~
“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Photo credit: http://www.unidivers.fr/centre-pompidou-danser-sa-vie-2311-204-2012/
~
small rusted tacks 
holding my toughened skin
to bone
to muscle
like pictures cut from a magazine
pinned to the wall
~
I’ve given up looking for saviors,
no messengers with bright news.
~
I see only inside
this heart
cocooned
deep
in the warm darkness
listening to the words spun
from the silk of the stories
we’ve given wings.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/striatic/133146861/”>striatic</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a>
In my winter dreams
I look for seeds that have curled up in dry dark corners
caught there when the floods washed through.
I pull away the broken limbs and detritus that collect
and watch the seeds that float to the surface
~
Like mirrors end to end
they shift and turn
reflecting the barbed light of other suns.
Birthing memories.
The only heat sometimes is in memory
passing through the heat of the wound.
~
I wake from these dreams disconnected
I have instinctively stretched out in time.
~
Deep in the night
no birds singing yet
waiting for light.
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
naked
impressed
open to skies
deep in the left heel
tender
I don’t need to follow you
I can see where you’ve been
in the waves
with their tongues of silver
”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’
””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/elliotmoore/45457311/”>Elliot Moore</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a>
Mountain
that yearns
to be a flower
learns
the ephemeral language
of
beginnings
“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””'”””””””””””””””””””””””
”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Painting by © J H White
Twice a month I meet for a few hours with four other women. Our friendship has a history as neighbors, fellow artists, some mothers, a few grandmothers, some wives, some ex-wives…it’s a toss up but we share artistic enthusiasms. Our lives are busy and we may not see each other as often as we’d like in any of these roles. But every other week we make time in our schedules to get together. We’ve all said that this time spent together is essential to each of us. For these particular meetings we’ve come to listen deeply to each other. Continue reading
Facing the window overlooking the garden
I am blindfolded,
a veil over my eyes.
Taken into this darkest of rooms, I wonder
If I am blindfolded…how am I seeing in this darkness?
My heart has been opened Continue reading
The Poetics of Light 