i have been waiting for this poem
to flow through me
waiting as my guts churned
like an angry sea
yearning for serenity
in a sheltered bay
but that is not my way
the storm is mine to dance
tonight i watched
as heavy dark clouds
ripe with foreboding woe
gave way to the most
glorious clearing
to reveal what was always there
shimmering crescent moon
hung by threads of wisdom
a sliver of possibility
your transition
connected in mystery
with my own
like the tapestry of the stars
lays before you
in an invitation
to your initiation
the sky writes our stories
as they are birthed
as you were on this day
from gaia's womb
i've been waiting for the whisperings
to bring forth the words
and i realize i must say nothing
i must only
be
to create the container
for your
free
fall
so jump, sweet lover
you don't need my hand
the wise reflection gazing back
is waiting for you

i am on my porch
trying to write
caught in the balance of joy and sorrow
each the source for its own river of tears
pooling at my feet
i pick up the phone to call you
but can't find my voice
swallowed up by this stormy sea
of mystery



your singing from the chickadee's mouth and into the tree
from the belly of the earth into the clouds
from your prayers to my wounds
from the reflections into what is yet to come
from here to there
from my shattered soul to a speck of hope sketched
in the skin of the lake


these words open a floodgate
river of tears gushing forth
for you, for us
for vivien
for all the love lost
found, lost
for our children
whose lives are so deeply affected
by who we are
and who we are becoming
for my mother forever the victim of her own life
for the endless struggle towards truth
and justice
for all of earth's babies
who suffer
paths intricately entwined on an endless journey
of the soul
i bow deeply to the goddess
and allow her river to wash over me
bathe me in this painful beauty
surrender to her wisdom
and acknowledge my place in this new beginning
like the chickadee nesting in her new little house
carefully preparing her bed of love
i sing her song
breathe it in like magic moondrops
on my tongue
and perched atop my heart
i will reach for the mirror
and wait for its reflection
"life isn't about surviving the storm....but learning how to dance in the rain."


Love after Love


The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again
the stranger who was yourself
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror,
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott




Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

the wounded sky cries my name
and i want to go to her
this earthly body
wandering the streets of
absurdity
this can't be real this can't be real
why must i live among
the very things i want to destroy
my insanity or theirs

when your body moves in me i understand
but the wounded sky is calling
indigo child borne of no one
star baby sipping the milky way
healing nectar
earthly nomad and gypsy soul
what is this cruel joke
i don't belong here
go and heal the world my dear
one day son
we will find each other at the crossroads
happy to hear about maryemma
mas besos


nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn


engaging in all these
mundane struggles of life
is my meditation
my way to absorb my many projections
of self
so that i can get busy with the real work
of me
i scrub the floor to empty my mind
so real thought can enter
clear the chatter and imagine
it's all about connections
and interconnections
more and more i see
as your friend yusif sees
and others too
webs and porches and lovemaking
that's really all we need
aaaaaaahhhhhh
want to talk and listen and laugh and make loveand talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love....................................................................................................................

dearest wondered
awakened princes of the dark
you belong to nobody
not even what breaths beneath your skin
no home but the Universe
no law but eternity
receive my humble kisses
a good night wish is all i have to offer
.. for now

dear sweet wanderer
gypsy souled and wide eyed
your belongings now
are trust and faith
your home is
hope
tinged with sorrow
for possibilities unimagined
into reality

yet shooting stars
bursting with ancient wisdom
tell another story
of manifested dreams
and deep pools of love
flowing in a river of tears
joy brushes the cheek
of pain
and angels dance
as you begin
coming home



dream weavers
are the keepers of the universe
the poets and the dancers
actors and lovers
shake the ground
with creative force
waking gaia's spirit
keep packing, keep imagining, keep loving
even when it's hard
because there is always
something else

so i used to say i didn't write because Artaud had already writen what I could..
now i don't write because your imsomnia will do it for me instead
yes i know these reflections and understand these words
i share the abundance of your emptyness
the love of the impossible even though i always seem to manage to have a foot in both worlds
we were not only dropped by our mothers duirng infansy
but dropped by the universe head first

only us the lonely souls can build a community with such eficiency
you have really build it conveniently near you
mine is everywhere and nowhere
yours cmes to the porche and gets drunk and takes your kids to school when you are sick or busy
my communities are sudden communities that last from an hour to a few days

the thread of inderterminency
whuaooooooooo
thats quite a concept
an indetermined concept
like life and love and death
i picture you brushing your teeth
with no meditation tape but somekind of other music
washing your delicate fingers
ready for a short session of solace
self inflicted GOZE
i seem unable to enjoy

i imagine you in action
and that seems enough for this moment


you always make me think.....i wanted to tell you more about my
journey this year. my first year alone, ever, despite feeling alone
my whole life. i have no answers, just consciousness about the state
of my soul...the holes that can't seem to be mended, no matter how
strong the thread, the adoration i receive that is somehow not enough,
the lovers that try to fill a cup that is always empty...
i have begun to wonder if i am meant to be alone, even though what i
long for most in life is connection...i say i want a partner, someone
to shre my life with...just not THAT one, or that one, or god forbid
that one.....i don't want to fuck it up....such an oxymoron since
others see me as a community builder, and i am, and i know i have
created an amazing community around me, and they fill me in so many
ways, but still they don't in some other, indescribable way...so
instead i choose many. i take from each precious person in my life
the gift that they bring to me, i accept it and i am grateful and in
many ways it fulfills me....and yet....

and why do i love you as i do...a man who has no roots, who promises
me nothing, who takes what i give with nothing for certain in
return...why do i choose to continue to give to you rather than the
others who promise forever...why do i choose to give to you when i
know that we both will and do love others..why do i place such
importance on a thread of indeterminency...is it because ther is
something in my soul that understands that indeterminency is all that
truly is....that when we hold on is the exact moment that things start
to slip away.... it because you are a soul like i who greets the day
ready for whatever is possible, or is it just because i love the feel
of your hair between my fingers...................am i afraid of
something?? am i unwilling to settle? am i so connected to my
aloneness that no one can find me? that's an interesting
metaphor...the game of hide and seek with the self. i hide from me
all the time. why don't i like me?

god dammit! give me a fucking meditation tape and let's be done with
the whole fucking thing! ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
i'm captured by an image of you
that i haven't seen before

and the promise of imagination
and hope and desire
creative spark and humanitary
need
will and faith
are enough
come to me lover
and we'll see

awake you are
and dreaming
awake you are
and loving
awake you are

oh my love
i come home to the stories
of the broken and sick
those who i raise
and those who i love
helplessness
and apathy
i draw my skirt over
weary bones i
prop against me
tired minds i weave
in my imagination
is this what you want
wake up and live
wake up and live


the cave
the cave in which we dwell
the cave in which we seek
the cave from which we drag ourselves

when your world shifted
you abandoned as fast as you could
when my world shifted
i held on as hard as i could
both enslaved in our cave

both entrapped
ready to burst forth
ready for the sign
to see beyond the cave
cave of humanity
cave of insecurity
cave of vulnerability
i'm not going to end this with stories of
hope and love and promise
better to leave it here
unsettled
unsure
unanchored
and see what happens next

in those moments we die for a few moments
i do
and memory takes over
then images and empty promises
automatic responses to messages
crafted by the one that reads her letters from the skin of the moon
i wasn't there
the last time i look in the mirror
then memory had nothing to say
not even an empty promise
could be hear carried by the wind
the empty porch is all we have

the moon is my sister
dancing me beyond
the trapped and the suffering
vertical limit of my escape

but what of the moments you are not there
when the other is not there
these too are moments
in my awareness
when depth of thought
and utter aloneness
the winding chaos of panic
the vengeful claw of doubt
and self hate
take over the porch
what does the mind do then
and what of the heart
what of the soul
what of the bliss that longs for light
moonlight is my sister
and i long for her song

forgot i wanted to tell you the story of MY son driving for the first time...

when jake was 2, and i was still married, we were camping up on the beautiful bruce peninsula, where our family and mikes sister have been building a cottage for the last fucking 65 thousand years...i spent every summer up there with my babies, nursing them on the rocks, hiking with them in backpacks, cooking and looking after kids while the other adults did construction work....

so one morning as i made coffee over an outdoor stove, jake, the eternal inquisitor, wanders over to see what i have been up to. in a flash, he pulls the boiling hot coffee pot off the stove and it splashes all over his body. as he screams in pain, i rip his pyjamas off and call for help. his aunt who is a nurse brings cold water to douse him in as his screams get louder and louder. mike and i know this is serious and decide to put him in our car to take him to the hospital rather than call an ambulance to the back woods.

the car ride is the longest most stressful half hour of my life. jake is in my arms, unbuckled, screaming...i am crying, trying to breastfeed but even that won't console him...mike is telling me harshly to stop crying, i want to pound him in the head....

we arrive and jake receives excellent care, is sedated and the 3rd degree burns dressed. we still don't know how serious it is and must travel by ambulance to a larger town with doctors who can assess. mike follows in our car. i am grateful for drugs as i ride in the back and watch my baby boy sleep.

at the hospital jake is seen and we learn jake must have medical care daily for several months..skin grafts are a possiblility but he must be seen in london.

we are exhausted. we go through a drive through to grab lunch because nobody has eaten, and then pull into the drugstore to fill prescriptions. mike goes in while i sit in the back seat with jake, eating our lunch. i am feeling like i've been run over by a truck 18 times....

suddenly, jake loses interest in his hamburger, climbs into the front (driver's seat) and pulls on the steering column. the fucking keys are in the ignition. the car starts moving forward, heading towards a parked car just a few feet in front of ours...i jump into the front, head first, my hand on the brake and my ass and legs in the air, and i stop the car....jake looks at me like i'm a lunatic. now i can't move because if i take my hand off the brake the car will move again. i realize that i am a lunatic.

then, a knock on the window and a passerby says, "um, do you need some help?"..........i'm wondering if my ass crack is showing....

when mike came back, the car was back in the parking spot, jake and i had resumed our lunch in the backseat.

later, jake's wounds healed incredibly...no skin grafts and not even a single scar...and i got a divorce. and that's the story of jake's first driving experience.




if you don't imagine it, it will NEVER happen. at least that's what i tell my kids..

brilliant crescent moon
nestles her baby in her breast
look if you don't believe
she is a harbinger of hope
while we sweep out our
innards
she suckles
and waits
while we wallow
in our shit
while our skin is lacerated
by the steely blade
of uncertainty
while fucking suburbia is
perched around
waiting to descend
she waits
while we kill the children
and rape their mothers
while we send soldiers
to heal the earth
while we plug in to
alternate reality
she is patient
she knows
time stops when we become
givers of life
open to receive
womb of desire
her beauty and her song
are silent reminders
of the exquisite grace
and eternity
inside


the question is always
what lays beyond
grey is nothing but a confusing
sordid mess of yesterday and tomorrow
look for the wildflowers
close your eyes and listen as they
grace the moonlight with their song
beyond the walls
the ones you build
the ones you hate
the ones you spend your life tearing down
know you can choose to
walk out the door

wanderer
with a sufi soul
bound in failing structures
a postmodern calamity
caving in
cardboard boxes
filled with useless shit
busywork
in the thirsty desert
of the mind
lack of spontaneity is my disease
dis ease
dis able the cords
unplug the great experiment
give me my fucking village
a porch and a fire to cook
give me freedom
and grace
and love
and all that will be left
is the dance