my son Scott
new pilot
is flying home
alone today
Peter son # one
carried his daughter
home last night
back from the hospital
om om om
I took this memoir
from the ageing
computer to the page
began pulling its
bony structure
out of the hat that
sat on the head of
all  i know singing
om om om
all this when darkness
is upon this sweet earth
when each year we spend
spend spend trying
to find a way to end the sorrow
that comes up from the deep
yet our ancestors have gone dark with
the companionship of a thousand
candles for hundreds of years
wildly bright on the shortest night
om om om
Showing ourselves
who we really are
how far from home
our fake lives take us
no, as close as our own
skin this home we look
for illuminated by the
very dark, this light
sometimes comes with tears
om om om

Weekly Prayer

Today is Sunday and I watch the world
From the seat of sacred rest I open the
Tiny closed doors in the heart of my utter longings
I lay down.. dirt and sand on my tongue to remember
Nelson Mandella, how he stepped out of prison
Leading the way unable to grudge to lay down to rest
He carried a great burden for humans Father of light
Son of the divine, this week is when we lost you
But the cold that spread over the continent was
Writing on the wall of our future was telling us to cease and desist
Stores began to sell in Black forgetfulness that our trinkets
Kill our home, that our more becomes someone’s less
Jesus was walking on the water of our forgetfulness
This week, calming the storm we created brought on
By a distrust of What created and glues together our Universes
We have carried a heavy burden in the base of our beings
But we are remembering consciousing breaking up as if
Freedom has been birthed by the Truth that all of
Us are offspring of Only One, not left out but left in
And for this my weekly prayer has become a song of praise.

Christmas 2013

new life wears thin
flapping in the winter wind
Christmas imposes a guilty laden
depression fueled by Wall Street’s
pic pocketing mad fingers grasping
before we recoil into our end of the year debt
burden of a happy face heavy
load we give our children
chaining their innocence to values we despise
self-centered greed creates a hungry
world a fake replica a tribute to empty nothingness

Mystic Mountain Spiral Galaxy from Hubble

this recipe is concocted with counterfeit spices
like Gimme and Mine yet the smell of it hints
at the deep reality it seeks to cover up
like Santa arriving through the night sky
a vision of love so whole it cradle rocks
this Universe swinging to the tune of the
Symphony played by planets and stars
take up your bow, gather the drum beats
of the heart of God let our swirling skits
remember who we are in the dance
pieces of Heaven and Earth bound by the One source of light.