until now

I found peace. 


in the deep corners 

where the cobwebs hunt 

and the dirt gathers 

there lay a log, 

a diary of sorts. 

not a smudge of dust 

on the cover touched.

tied tight in closure 

of knots and puzzles 

unattempted in ages. 

I thought about leaving it,

heading back to where I’d been, 

but my eyelids now too small 

to completely cover my eyes.

once your eyes can see 

you can no longer claim blindness.

I reached for those pages of print

to find I already knew all the words.

they were mine. 

it had been too dark 

from behind closed eyes 

to read them. 


until now.

forever in flux

shed the excess fur 

you no longer need it 

now that the sun can warm your skin 

abandon ways of old and know 

ways of new will grow 

forever in flux 

fine hair falls from all animals come spring 

nothing remains stagnant 

all is renewed 

season by season 

day by day 

minute by minute 

meeting each other again 

or going into new horizons 

with grace 

we change


paint me in gold leaf 

gilding my common earthenware being 

with a touch of special 

we all hope to be special 

when we see that from another 

someone who has covered us 

in a layer of metallic 

sees us shining brighter 

than our plain stoneware reality 

we gasp in appreciation 

grateful that someone has seen value in us 

astonished at an aura 

we never knew we had 

and when they go 

or their eyes no longer squint 

at the golden shimmer of us 

we only wish 

to again be painted 

in the gold leaf of yesteryear

broken heart

times of cracked and broken 

is when we find our hearts 

as one of a kind pottery 

impossible for another to fix 

no formula can be applied 

for the unique and rare

hand thrown heart 

to look to ourselves 

the master potter 

for recreating the ceramics 

something once broken 

once made from the mud of the earth 

and brought back to its origins 

placed on the spinning wheel 

to begin again 

in rotation 

crafting of clay 

into once more 

a whole heart

swept away

silence spares us 

sweeps with sorghum broom 

before words brandished by hurt 

fly into the face of another 

lays them under the cut pile rug for wait 

under the wraps of reticence 

we protect others and ourselves 

as regret of wielded weapon words 

pins us to the wall 

with the aftermath of eruption 

gathering the dirt and soot 

until the dust bin 

can lean in collection 

and we can see more clearly 

what should be spoken and 

what should be swept to the wind

the forestĀ 

Great Grandfather lean down to me 

place your thin branches 

around my little frame 

cage me close and keep me safe 

in this big unknown 

cover me in foliage to guard 

protector of my heart 

from the predators at large 


not for the hand to hold 

but to claw the thin skin 

to bleed me out 

your mighty limbs will 

criss-cross my heart 

and I hope to die 

in the dirt where your roots lie 

great beginnings I wish to grow 

my own boughs of shelter 

for another 

to live in the world of love


things to match things

things to add on to things

things to clean things

things to replace old things

things to hold our things

things to record things

things to show we have many things

things to keep track of all our things


I get so tired of things

cluttering up our lives

cluttering up our hearts

when in nature

there are no things

just life







without things