Poem – Beast

Do each of us have a monster inside
a beast we strive to hide from the
world, those close we love, and from our self?

At the end of each day
what are we truly running from?

What shadows lurk in the forest
and what shadows do we carry?

Across the fields with scattered snow
mountains rise from the earth

in spires of solid granite,
nearly featureless – how will

this barrier be overcome?

Standing at the base of the mountains
what hope I brought here

disperses on the cold wind
scouring the surface of the empty fields,
those fields I left behind years ago
when the beast chased me away.

Poem – Beneath the Surface

I keep it within reach
just beneath the surface.

It is always awake with eyes
open watching me and ready

to arise at the simplest command
always there beneath the surface.

Time has not soften the beast.
Time has not taken away the power.

Over and through the years
I have learned to control

when the beast arises
the appropriate moments to step aside.

Poem – I Now Walk into the Wild

I now walk into your
arms, the words spoken
in passion, black wisps
of hair I brush away,
your eyes a light into the soul.

I now fall into your arms,
your breath against my neck,
I am vulnerable, exposed skin
waiting for your embrace,
I wait for you.

I walk into the wild,
the unknown territory
my heart longs for, the words
of freedom, swirling about,
motions in the air we reach
out to grasp, moments of
solitude, the chance to listen to
the wandering thoughts, the mind
opening up.

Into the wild, the backcountry
of my mind, the thoughts behind
actions of the heart, the soul
reaching out, a voice not
heard, but felt though vibrations.

Deafening silence as the wild
expands the further I emerge into
the tundra, lost and wandering
I keep close your scent and soft touch
upon my chest, the slight pulse of your
veins coaxing my heart to keep going,
during moments of weakness, when
the winter sun rises briefly and hurriedly
sinks, the horizon thinning and the darkness

I walk into the suns light
the golden sheet cradling me
with eyes closed I see your smile
and the words spoken without hesitation
and I am overwhelmed with pureness,
the honesty, the unflinching eyes.

I walk into the swift Sushana
river, with ice floes and glacial till,
you are there somewhere near the base
of the mountains I can see from here,
the rolling shadows frigid.

And I awaken next to you under
the flaring aurora borealis,
the flashes of opaque green and deep red,
sedge and willow glow and reflect
off the pure snow.

2012-07-06 14.33.53

Poem – This Way Before

I have been down this path before
that empty silent road leading
nowhere and everywhere, the cold
wind, the bare trees, and the sky
merging with the earth –

where does it end
and where does it go?

I have been in that state
of disconnect, beyond lost,
detached from people, from
reality, from myself, from home –

that place we come from
and look to for direction.

I looked, and looked everywhere,
out there, in the distance, to the sky
with anger and confusion, to others –

until I finally found the answer
here, starting with my feet touching
the dirt, and in each leaf and in
each animal gracing the earth.



Poem – An Eye Turned Inward

It is frighteningly easy to give up hope and lose a sense of place and purpose when the earth is scorched and the people are lost. Miles and oceans separate lives, cultures, borders, and tragedies. Arbitrary definitions aim to keep lines drawn and natural tendencies in check, but this only suppresses the internal instincts, the desire to fight, the need for hope – prolongs the true being which walks the ridge-line, getting closer to the shift.

The evening sky reflects the fields of glass, the desert sands, the tropical rain forest, the calving glaciers – a mirror of processes beyond our control digging deep, removing us from the present day, existing beyond time and distance when the connections and energy between everything was more clear and made sense.

The evening sky is an eye turned inward, focusing light on our true being and the threads we all share, the bonds we must strengthen and the call we must listen to as the sun sets and the darkness descends across the fields.

An Eye

An Eye

Poem – The Depth of November

November is the transition of fall to winter.
November gives up the red, orange, yellow, and gold for brown into grey.

The sky gains depth, definition, and clarity.
November is laid bare at your feet and we head within ourselves to find warmth and answers to the probing questions and immediate need to cope with change.

November is the month we begin to find ourselves.

November Depth

November Depth


As the wind blows across sand, rocks, and driftwood I marvel at the change within me that I am aware of.

Time has not softened the being, but strengthened through experiences and exposure to a world so scary as a child.

Reaching out beyond the close-knit sphere I sought to understand the blood and tears of others.

Reaching within I sought to understand myself and my place in the world.

What was my purpose here?

A struggle developed to find a balance as fragments continued to stack higher and higher.

The mind seeks continuous interactions, energy, connections to keep the fire burning, but this fire will burn if not controlled, if not kept within a moral framework.

How then to make a difference, to find balance, to not proposer at the expense of others? Through time and experience I had to learn empathy and respect. The silence we hear through chaos and the peace we feel through balance, teaches empathy and respect as the world you see circles around and in the middle a portal opens revealing the threads connecting us to everything and everyone.

2014-10-11 06.21.45

Poem – Walked Across the Field

I walked across that empty field
after the weeds took over
and boulders fell from the darkening
sky and trees took root.

I walked across what used
to be the empty field
a gameboard for my mind
a history of what has

taken place, what I allowed
to happen and I threw
gasoline everywhere and
took refuge within while the sky burned.

Sky on Fire

Sky on Fire

Buddhism – Four Noble Truths

The four noble truths emphasize a practice in learning to live and how to lessen suffering.

  1. There is suffering
  2. There is a cause of suffering, which is craving and attachment
  3. There is cessation of suffering
  4. There is a path of practice that brings about this cessation

This path starts with recognizing and being aware of suffering within ourselves and within the world. The path continues with recognizing and holding to the light the cause of suffering. An awareness that suffering should and can be eliminated. Recognizing, being aware of, and following a path and practice that reduces and eliminates suffering. This happens through respect, wisdom, awareness of your sphere of influence.


sunset-clouds1Where has time gone?  While I know time itself does not change, only our perception, I must have been asleep for a few days.  It is already May and I have not really written a poem or prose in a couple of weeks.  I have spent some time in quiet reflection of my past and certain experiences that have greatly impacted and provided material with which to grow.  Any writing from that may end up here or elsewhere, depending on how personal it becomes.

I finally wrote something last evening, and here it is, in bits and pieces, some fragments, with a loose thread tying them together, the stepping stones of a larger journey.

With each rain drop
upon my naked body
and mind with
outstretched arms
in the middle of the
field one more shred
of the previous being
peels away.

How much longer can
the self endure the space
and growing distance to the
true being?

The struggle within intensifies
with each passing day the
debris and clutter build,
compact, become a stronger
barrier, with each passing day.

What will it take to
wake up, spew forth
words and actions –
enough is enough.

The death suffocated
through loss of hope,
of purpose, of connecting
beyond the self, inflicts
greater damage to the spirit
and the psyche, carried
forever, through subsequent
passages of time.

A spiritual death suffocated
each day my whole being
is repressed, stumbling,
aimless, lost, through the
empty field I spent
decades clearing and cultivating
only to become overgrown,
fragments of the anger,
and selfishness spit out
of the wailing person on
their knees,
in a manner of minutes.

I write these words in the midst
of a struggle between my spirit
and the pain engulfing my head,
hands holding the skull together,
press on throbbing temples,
eyes closed shut – spinning
across the empty room, the
room moves, upside down, left
becomes right, light becomes
fuzzy darkness and I fell into
a heap.

There are answers out there
to these questions, there are
answers out there, that I have
previously known, to questions
I have not yet asked

In the lowest elevations the sun is not
directly seen, but we see the light
as a guide, a marker, that we placed there.

%d bloggers like this: