Sunday, December 13, 2015


The angel loved this child.
It’s not that all angels love their charges.
Mostly it’s just a job, though a job, of course,
they perform joyfully.  It is not usually so personal, so human.
The angel watched over the child with poignant care.
It was not in angelic power to keep the child untouched by
the myriad harms, disappointments, longing pain, hapless tragedies
of mortal consequence.  Yes, the angel was assigned as Guardian,
but only insofar as to protect this life, keep intact the necessary
attributes to fulfill this promised role in the great production,
attributes brought to fruition through exercise in lesser roles over
maturation, incremental expression of range.
So the angel watched this child grow, awkwardly, teased and
tortured into position within a cultural tradition designed to control,
keep order for elite convenience.  The devoted angel whispered kind
encouragement, kept vigil lest the child’s unique imagination be
paralyzed, destroyed.
The angel loved so intensely as to be able to manifest in dreams,
mind wanderings, delicate places inviolate by what our world expects
and enforces.  Even when it seemed all seethed with horror, relentless
sorrow, madness beyond comprehension, stench of mundane rot,
the angel’s adoring presence gave a supportive touchstone of calm.
Always, look without the deceptive bias of eyes, listen without prejudice
of language, feel soothed, understood.  The angel holds vibrational
essence gently, passionately in boundless ethereal generosity.  They are
bonded twins, each more profoundly blessed in affinity.


Saturday, December 12, 2015


Old Mage Pontificates
Heroes – people so publicly good they inspire
us to be better.
To wander clothed for travel, no map, destination.
Direction, decision, matters of whim or
instant’s fancy.
Sparkly lights over our Wintering fields,
meteorites to wish upon.
I wish for miracles that outdo, overwhelm
biblical prophecy.
Harsh judgment, militant readiness to fire
chaos, satisfying destruction.
Sharp dark edges, bullets of desperation.
Pain, psychic, traumatic, rippling waves
overreach, suck in soul and humanity.
Let them fight, beyond our Earthian borders,
those archetypes of Lucifer and Christ.
Let them whip up fierce, boisterous
conflagration – epiphanies of rage against
love.  Hell, take bets, cheer and get high
on the action.
Up there, in that realm made of fantasy
and digitized dreams.
Here, right here and now and always
from here on, let it go.
Let the movie do its bitter dancing on
that distant screen while we
enjoy festivities of sparkling lights and
generosity, best humanity can offer spirit
of liberation immersed in
joyful celebration.


Friday, December 11, 2015


Cut to shape fabric pasted layers on paper bags
What can I say that hasn’t been said better; but
I do my best to express what has meaning for me
as it does.
Searching my mind for visions of light that elude.
Dark caverns, or alleys, iridescent, day-glo,
glow globes, fairy dust in billow flight.
Tell me a story of dazzling strength and brilliant
strategies.  Thrilling escapes.  Clever soliloquies.
Blessing of forgetting real dangers and their fears.
Look!  A gathering of space astronauts happy to
save us because we’re all brethren, kin in this
living universe.
Wiser big siblings, protective, sharing what longer
experience has taught.
Until our saviors arrive, why not prepare by
fellow feeling, embracing common cause.


Monday, December 7, 2015


What is the word for beyond words --
beauty simple, profound.
Stars, sunbeams, miracles of light.
Loved and protected by gods smitten
with ecstasy for such grace in presence.
Fortune favors elegance, true nobility beyond
codes of honor.  Petals, aura, body open to
wind, rain, ice and fire.
Consciousness without desire,
except for kind delivery, soothing embrace.
Stars long past linger as sensation.
Twinkly eyes bless beauty
too intense for today.


Peaceful imagery

Beaches at sunset, quiet waves, sparkling reflection;
sand like dulcet bedding, gently shaded for dreaming.

Mountain ponds surrounded by pastel flowers;
birds of grace flitter above in scant aerial array; fairy light just
bright enough to wander without glare or haze.

Clear long straight road into fantasy landscape, then curving
through hills, farms, forests, lit by wide blue breeze,
water-painted sky, scent of perfumed trees.

Winter magic freshly frosted, swirled, made new
and brilliant, distant melody sweet, calm, effulgent.
Smell delicious promise, somnolent, seeking, evoking
a caress of serene awe.


What says augury – curtains of small, dark
birds swooping like raindrops.
Perching to feast in Fall trees on bursting berries.
Birds in homeward flight, toward early sunset.
Full of good harvest, ready to roost through night.
Is this blessed omen of peaceful plenty to dream on?
Or mere preparation for harsh Winter’s tempests to come?
Huddling against terrible storms, warm, safe,
together.  May we dream out dark weather in
gentle peace.


Twinkle Moon kissed forest of splendor,
delicate paper sculpture.
Tin foil twinkle cast in Moon glow pastel.
Gifts for me misters and mistresses, ladies
and gents, those who pass through and
take a glitter-stamped chance.
May we happily party, inhale presence
for a nonce, eternal.
Who need we be just now?
Strangers nested, perfumed, rarified.
Believe, just enough to gaze hard
into a flowing crystal.
Bold building flow, the heat, the torture.
If it is truly yours, ours, solidity that matters,
drink potency and feel each successive burn.
Turns to take that have not been taken.
Let the crystal burst – it’s liquid sacrament
merges with our immoral souls.
Who do you awake to?
What face?


Tuesday, December 1, 2015

november's ends

The stars
The dark
The trees
The wind
On the street where I live
On this night while I write.
What is happening here and now.
This intricate melody.
Who can hear with me?
Share a moment in all of eternity?
Skips in time to deeply held tune.
What is Truth?
What is true?
Feet above ground.
Sky permeates – ambient air all around.
Celestial entities,
ambiguous destinies,
transient identities,
beautiful dreams.
Here and now.


We’re all in this leaky boat --
best that we get along, learn to work
together, to do what we need to all survive.
It doesn’t have to be dull or drudgery.
We can swing into a fine ol’ work party:
Blazing music, playful dance,
extemporaneous doggerel, happy inebriance,
exuberant good will.
Even if, especially if, this is all we’ll ever have
or be
our lives (each and every) matter to each other.
And if there is a more to truly desire,
together we reach that much higher.


In the imaginable future we might have technology to allow for everyone to devise anything they can imagine, and even trade these creations out of pride and awe.  When we all can easily access everything we need, what will be an economy??

Flexible structure
Like a dancing skeleton
Surely we’ve all seen them
round and about.
Moving to rhythms that clack
and resound.
Able to leap out of bounds without
bouncing too loud
without alarming the crowd
above and below.
Structure.  Elegant harmonies
tripping the clefs and scales,
long anointed notation.
We need structure, a past to build on.
Flexibly fashioned to weather storms,
to build anew.


Waiting for the Sun --
Lightbringer, creating morning.
Who will you portray today?
Autumn wanes.  Pallid days
invite a distance from permeating
sadness, a jolly fantasy
to lighten weary travel over
bone-chill terrain.
Before loving fire enfolds,
warms through, what can we do
to ease mass anxieties?
See something beautiful in lucent
crystal – light we carry, share, renew.

It’s not that there is something wrong with
Exposed as they are, no ones in particular,
moving parts of the endless crowd.
It’s that there is something wrong,
with them.  Irritants slowing their spokes,
clogging their gums, holding them out of step,
out of sorts,
eventually overwhelmed with rust and ruin.


Reasons to Be Thankful

City silhouette,
cut-outs for lighted windows.
Inside, stories are shared, embellished
to suit the mood.
Mrs. Rio’s son flew into combat.
See her so brave, civilly smiling,
wishing well to each partier who greets her.
But don’t we all have our masked anxieties,
sorrows, shames?  Civilly shaking hands,
breathing deeply to hold from shaking
inappropriately.  Please, more liquid dullness,
more chemical restraint.
More strident complaint of political --
yes Our World’s gone to hell!
How dare THEY tell us how to behave!
I’ve a mind to blast them all into atoms,
to take a stand against whomever crosses
my path without due regard.
When did everything get so hard,
so unyielding, so thick?
I know there was a once we made more sense,
gave more embracing warmth.
There are stories.
What are yours?