Thursday, January 1, 2015

Hello, 2015!

Unknown Artist

2014 is over. It truly is. 

This morning, I found myself thinking that, for all the years I’ve been blogging on Dreams, I posted about the new year before it actually arrived… sometime in the last week of December, usually. That’s not what happened with 2014. The second to last week of 2014 was a whirlwind of busy busy busy activity as I worked at closing things out to make way for the arrival of a new beginning. And then, last week, I decided to pull away from everything and just sit, in relative quietude, with the finiteness of the year.

2014 was a very eventful year for me. Interestingly, I knew, at the end of 2013, that 2014 was going to be not only eventful, but a great year… filled with glory! Last night, as I stood outside and stared up at the fireworks that lit the sky in bursts of gold and green and red, I felt the vibrant but serene splendor of the gift of life. And once again, I knew in every cell of my body that 2015 is going to be dynamic, and brimming with the confident movement and flow that both births and is birthed by change. 

May our 2015, yours and mine, throb with the vigorous heartbeat that life allows us to share with it! Happy New Year!!!


Sunday, November 2, 2014

Trompe l'oeil

Detail from Ginevra de' Benci, Leonardo da Vinci

You had me at, Is this real, 
or is it enchantment?

But the source of that question 
is a doubt that gnaws 
at your sinew.

Somewhere inside the emptiness
that consumes every void, there is
a fullness that shrieks 
with necessity.

One can think up
whatever one wishes,


In one’s mind
it will be real.

But there are no imaginings 
without witchcraft.
And there are no legends 
without illusion.

And there are no graces
without the unutterable, first.

And there are no set formulas—
Or, are there?

I challenge you.
And judge you.

Yet, here I sit,
in the belly of a thirsty canyon,
staring at a silent and empty sky,

Shedding my Patience of Job,

Exchanging peace for agitation,

Glaring with expectation.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

In the Real Garden

Art by Christian Schloe

To the near-empty sound of the young morning,
Dyed only with the sensuous sway of
Two trees that dance together
Though separately,

Rinsing their leaves in
The blushing haze of the ever
Unfathomable new day’s emergence
From the embers of yesterday’s vastness,

To this,
To it,

To you,
Near-empty sound:

hold steady.
i feel you.

within your timid thrum i enter,
sensing everything.

and you.

and your growth as the dew dallies.

and me.

and my body laid down beside yours.

and us.

and the roaring din
of our sternums as we breathe.

Monday, September 1, 2014


Unknown photographer

Remember when I asked you to keep vigil?

Oh, the promises you made!
And oh, how you slept!

And… Oh, how you brought me
offerings in your quest for redemption!

But I have limned myself with
the thinness of every moment—
this one, and the next.

And I have stolen away into a mythology
that only I can understand.

Thoughts. Legends. Fantasies.
They endure.
As do the sepulchers of the dead.

Late at night, stillness coils through
my flesh, rousing every angle
of my being into attention.

Words are no longer necessary.
My mouth is round with vision.

The strawberries ripen
in the stirring of the wind.

I walk slowly.