Two Views

I must do this.

because I was chosen

or because I chose it

or because there is no difference

between the two views.

I imagine someone finding my notebooks

and stamping me into history

as the next Emily Dickinson.

I also imagine maintenance workers

scooping the greatest product of 

my entire life into trash bags.

Either way, two views (and many words)

will eventually disintegrate.

So why do this? Why continue?

was I chosen? Did I just choose this?

did ‘Leaves of Grass’ fall on my infant head?

did I choke on alphabet soup at some point?

Is Sesame Street to blame?

or my high school English teacher?

either way:

Form and Meter

are putty in my hands

(maybe silly putty?)


Two Views again.


The Green will come back to us

it has to,

the passing of its shade

simply a setting sun.

Nothing lasts forever now

how could it,

life carves the wonder

deep in the bark and root.

So don’t mourn the leaves

it’s not water they need

but time,

simply time,

and my sweet Loves

time goes on.

The Green will come back to us.

Butterfly Kisses

“How does one become a butterfly? she asked. You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar” – Anonymous

Two wings and all the soft wisdoms

needed to weave eternal grace and

every blooming tranquility. How true

and how precious the butterfly: to

place those kisses on our open palms.

Silken bodies in their immortality,

stolen from the dreams we hand

them, to deliver to the fairies and

pixies. Our curious couriers, so

quaint in their regal spring flights.

In the quiet moments. The rising

mornings. Their silhouettes dance

on the window blinds. I trace their

journeys in notebooks and canvas,

they are truly all we will ever need:

butterfly kisses,

on our open palms.

The Noticing

Do not let the sunsets pass quietly

those hues will not stay

the reds and yellows and purples

will melt into recession

dripping in tranquil nightfall.

Do not let the couples and lovers

chat in unnoticed companionship

the souls and masses and families

continue to prove to us

loving sprouts in those needed cracks.

Do not let the planes fly by

without thinking of its passengers

the lost and travelers and coming home

drink deeply from a sea

glistening in perception and imagination.

Within the innate dissatisfaction

blossoms these endless wonders,

bathe in them,

know them,

hold onto them,

until the noticing

crystalizes into radiant impenetrability

while we gloriously


The Wise Lighthouse

The other day she slid her feet

into cool soft sand and listened,

to a lighthouse whisper its wisdoms

into the crashing ebb of waves

showing through stalwart radiance:

How to weave a quiet serenity

in the moments of solitude

and vast wild openness,

How to be the only structure

in an endless sea of blue

and find substance there,

How to truly inhabit one’s self

in such a voracious authenticity

and beacon that light out to others,

So she wrote that light house

a thank you in the sand then watched

as high tide carried that gratitude

to the wise lighthouse.

Child’s Make Believe

On my balcony I watched a child

play with an imaginary friend,

and while texting my own friends

I laughed and laughed at him.

Then the kid starting slow dancing

with his little invisible partner,

‘how cute’ I thought to myself

while texting some girl.

The boy then started talking, talking to it

this intangible person of his mind

but I had seen enough

and had all my laughs.

So I stood up

went inside

started my shift

of talking, talking

into a computer screen.

After work

I sat in my car scrolling

scrolling until my phone

grew a face on the back

that scowled and hissed

and laughed at me.

So with tears in my eyes

I threw the phone

in the glove compartment,

then I drew a nicer

friendlier face

on the wind shield,

it was the second realest thing

I’d seen all day –

right behind that boy’s imaginary friend.



I scan with my eyes

I notice patterns

see the shapes and sizes

that this piece could fit into.


I gently glide my fingers

across a forming landscape

feeling for opportunities

that would benefit

from this piece’s presence.


with firm resolution

I attempt to insert this piece

maybe it fits

contributing to a more complete picture,

maybe it doesn’t fit

and more force

only bends the piece…

So once again,

I scan with my eyes

I notice patterns …


Eternal Venus silver

you sweet magnanimous creature

let me chase and let me love

this luring gem,

dear Luna.

Majestic foxen angel

just pose in space forever

not too close not too real

my guiding light,

oh Luna.

So pray for me

this muse tonight

who won’t stay or know

her grace in time:

my word,

my dear,

my Luna.

Sunset Darlings

you’ll shine

you’ll see

you will kiss the crisp morning

then lullaby the sun down.

One day

real soon

every footstep will ring out

with the sound of belonging.

I know it

I see it

like a solar eclipse mystifies

your glory will here align!

and I will be there friend

to cheer you on

while holding you up

to setting sun.

So shine –

you sunset darling,

shine for everyone!