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.

Saturday Sun-Goddess

In ancient Egypt,

Mesopotamia, and Greece

men would travel miles upon miles

to make a sacrifice

(some crops or a first born)

all in the hopes

of seeing a sun goddess:

their silken skin glistening,

like it’s made of gold

and divinity.


I just have to take a trip downtown,

make a more contemporary sacrifice

of chai latte

and wonderful conversation

then just like that,

I experience my own sun goddess

for just a few precious hours:

Shinning bright enough

to make the sun look dim.

A sweetness big enough

to make skyscrapers look small.

A brilliance so luminescent

that I wonder if the evening light

journeyed from her eyes

before pouring out

onto the city’s sacred streets.

then just as beautifully,

just as swiftly,

the sun sets

and my goddess leaves

but I’ll only smile …

because my world will be that much brighter

for the next few days.

The Summer’s Sun

My love,

she is the summer’s sun

shinning life on spring blossoms

warming slow winter hearts.

She is a hundred thousand miles

stretching around the horizon

then sprawling atop my chest.

Some days glow dim

mourning their solemn overcasts.

Yet the sunlight through thin drapes

revives in me a certain faith

that I’ll one day know:

the rhythm of her heart beat,

which so sweetly sings a tune

to the silence between moments.

the beauty in all her precious moods,

when she dances on wood floors

or cries into my stained collar.

the bliss in her dreams,

when there is too much hope

in her cup of morning coffee.

Yes my love,

is the summer’s sun

a beacon of light

I walk towards her


The Green Will Grace Us

The green will grace us,

we will taste summer air.

We will feel a warmth

more calm and real

than that which frosts

with passing winters.

The sun will touch us

kissing our forehead

brightening our hair

beckoning flowers from the dirt.

Yes this green will emerge

surrounding us in thin symphonies

gently rocking nylon arms

which cradle weary souls.

For summer, my loves,

is approaching

The green will grace us again.