Category: Personal Growth

THE ALBATROSS OF THE PLAINS

Beavers’ teeth never stop growing so they chew on wood to keep them at a manageable length. If they didn’t maintain them their teeth would eventually grow into their brains.

THE ALBATROSS OF THE PLAINS

I shot a beaver in my youth
who cursed me with this curse

My teeth
will be your poems now

remembering our gift unused
grows fatal to the brain

WRITING THE AUSTRALIA TRIP

WRITING THE AUSTRALIA TRIP

We went to teach, we went to learn
we did a lot of both and more of some

We met amazing people – they met us
perhaps none will be the same again

Details I leave for further poems
which I hurry to hurry to write

before the ripples rippling out
are lost
clockwise and counter clock
down the toilet bowl of time

I SHAMAN

I SHAMAN

Once again I touch
and pull back from my Shaman self
the thinning veil becomes
once again a curtain, and a wall

And what if the wall should fall

Could I face the demands
people might place on me for their healing
– the responsibility for my own
Could I resist using powers for personal gain
breaking the balls of traitorous pals
or poking pins in political dolls

Perhaps I will think about this again tomorrow
for as Scarlet says “Tomorrow is another day”

And tomorrow is Tuesday

and tonight is Monday Night Football

HE GOES ALONE TO COUPLES THERAPY

HE GOES ALONE TO COUPLES THERAPY

And finds that it is mostly
a matter of listening to the other

Honoring equals love, or trumps it,
or extends it, or replaces it nicely

Respect means never having
to say you’re sorry, when you’re not
and will kow you’re lying anyway

Hours are fifty minutes long
the other ten is a gift from God

He goes home, his feet lighter
for the shadows sown on

He is afraid people
will think that he can’t spell

and means sewn, like Peter Pan
not seeds, and seeds, and soil

DEAD DOG WAKING

DEAD DOG WAKING

My muscles were turning to bone
as my bones had turned to stone

I still could walk
though less each year
from place to place
from house to house
from car to bar
bar to car

Or sometimes
with a special you
to view a special view

But there was no pleasure
in the walk itself

Nor had their been
as I recall
since the age of five
when my dog was still alive

and we would roam the ranch
from dawn to stealthing dark
with spring in both our steps

And then

just as I was about
to fall into winter
Emilie Conrad came along

That serpentinian septuagenarian
that Guru of fluid and flow
high priestess of Continuum
breath, movement, and sound

bringing into awareness
the waves under the patterns

Teaching the embracing
of possibilities in bodies
of Hal and Sidra Stone
teach embracing of selves

Reminding
how much of us is water
and the fluid capability
of systems to transform

This story isn’t over yet
but there is a new lightness
at the end of the tunnel