Crisis and Opportunity

bashed in computer
criminal intent
tears shed loss
accepted the end
of an era beginning
of a new that will not
be denied though there 
is a small group that hates

my brother sending me one of his
my son rigging the old and holding
my hand on the new venture adventure
there is a large group of lovers lurking
in all the crevases popping up to give.
a circle of need and abundance just as
the gunshooters get to the pass a time of planting
and reaping lest we forget we have been
reminded that though the dragons seem to
hold power there is only One True Source

we are leaving but not cowering we are open
armed and loving we are a small puzzle piece
to this grand plan holding hands across the cosmos
laying new tracks to point the way a trail that
always leads home ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Moving Back to Maine

guess it's time to write 
anew poem about ending
all the old life is priced
with blue painting tape tags
twenty-five cents dishes we
ate on and the pans of the wrm
way i used to cook, 2 dollars
for the sheets we used to make
love on, a dolla for the tender
mercy of our mixing bowls
nothing for the way our world
got shreaded by evil intent
but turned into new begginnings
by the One who makes all things

Someone Called me from Burma

and again i write into
the night . hurricanes 
roar, days won't end
i am sick to death of
commerce and fear of dying

someone called me from Burma
today, mayanmar both names
showed up on my bombasted 
phone where my number had
be grabbed by the greedy

one guy had an Indian accent
my heart was not ready for
international wonderings today
i would like to afford a
renewed passport so at least
i could make it over the border
into Canada should the whim arrise

they'll put a chip in this time
to find or hunt me down for some
imagined tresspass or to save me
is what they say i mistrust the
greedy powerful, well not all
but most a wealthy athlete gave
away 150 million bucks today his
face looked kind i think he didn't
want another Katrina, but with
global warming the opportunities
will abound I think, don't know but guess

in our one room rental i sit at the
card table far from home, but 
remeber to be grateful for 
dry ground and a roof though
i do not like what happens
here i see the deep poverty
and sorrow all around me, feel
the bigger call to do something
i don't know what but guess
at compassion in action where it finds me

it is night and someone called me
from Burma today. i couldn't afford
to answer, but it's there recorded
Iphones do that take us way past ourselves
clikidy clak the keys tap out a message
maybe just that i am here trying to
know how to help, i am here anyway, 
i write into the night of hurricanes
and sorrow, i write love letters to
this world to the piece or peace that
i am I write love letters into the night

i call my new biz buzz Just Connections
it's fair trade stuff from around the
world so when the connections pop up
for me here there and everywhere i am
astounded at the red threads that link
me to everything in the Universe 
what I see is golden light made
of nothing but love though the mountains
sometimes fall and the people roar in 
pain for me there is just One a tapestry
tightly woven and not thread bare 
quilting our way through the valleys
wars come money flies children grow
parents die and still there is only
that love glue given many names but
only One a stronger thread than any chord humans have made.


Too Much Media or Facebook Overload

maybe im just exhausted
from too many computer
hours making my dream
online Fair Trade store
come alive or maybe
i'm really just sick
of everyone who knows
everything and quotes
everyone who knows
everything when i want
to sit in the moonlight
or sunlight and listen
to the voice of a universe
i am a very piece of
feel her filling up
the spaces that are
empty from too many
answers i want to soak
my feet in the water of
oneness, lay down on
the bed of not knowing
empty the brain and open
the mind i don't mind
being ingnorant, knowing
i learned a long time ago
won't save me i let go
like a monkey jumping
from tree to tree not
even a whisper of fear
to keep me from smiling



Old Women Believers

divine love is my light 
my very life who then
can intimidate me i hear
the raging sometimes going
on right under the same roof
where i live reminding me
of childhood abuse and danger

but just one deeper thought
and i am no longer afraid we
old women are still haunted
by stories that sing dirges
in the ears of our pasts
we cannot endure a child's pain
or the errors of the arrogant

greed rides on our backs causing
ultimate aches and yet we who have
endured so long see light in this
dark planetary crisis see something
so beyond even the rising seas and
the toxic clouds the used to be our breath
see waves of hope coming from the very
humans and earth that seem so destroyed

we are still here waving the flags of our
old clothes standing in the midst ready
to leave if it is our time, but willing to stay
we can play in the back lash of what we have done
capture a prayer, a poem, a story a painting 
hold all as we have our own children and grands
the prickly pears and the soft sweet babies 
the wrinkled knees and thinning hair give us
a clear idea of all that really is beyond this 
burial of a must pervasive jointly held illusion
we are here for the funeral the interment and
finally the resurrection of reality.