September

Autumn

The glaring green leaves cling to their false lives.

They whisper their imaginary self righteous recital

A breeze offers intimate intonation

the bravest warms considerably, accepting

abandoning the tittering siblings

whom are dressed in last season’s fashions.

Not to be outdone, the sisters join the fray

Out come the plaid jackets and flannel shirts

Apples burst the buckets, turn to mulled cider

Fall squashes, root vegetables, homemade soap

the scent of subtle decay burning in offering pyres

remnants of summers hopes setting in worldy sunset.

 

The Sun Returns

09142015SunsetSail

Grand Haven, MI September 2015 

When the rains came, she retreated to harbor for haven.

The umbrella outstretched in somber funereal black

Allowing the thundering winds while making water craven

to bleach the bearing bones of the burden laden back.

Because it is always okay (or will be), the sun returns

She is gone before dawn with nary a mark left graven

From the ancient predictions foreseen in the almanac

Her gypsy blood would eternally call her the sea maven

The depth of her affection, like the ocean, a partial amnesiac.

Aleppo, Syria

Omran Daqneesh
There is a little child in Aleppo born
Exploding waves of violent storm
Raging fires silently call harm
Yet the tiny child raises no alarm.
Ali Daqneesh
This is our child. Our daughter or our son
Our children have now become only one
Innocence bombed in a dawn of mourning
We heard the cries, refused the warnings.
Now we witness our barren crops dead
Help them! Somebody!
We are not what we said.

They are speaking

unlock

Tornadic bursts of clarity that light the path so long hidden

Lightning flashes of dervish danced love now bidden

The dialect is moving my feet forward, but

the roots had to reach ancestral proportions

to stretch closer to the stars without distortion.

Outreached hands grip, grasp, climb the galaxies

as Terraria celebrates the gateway rendered of fallacies

Although precarious in balance, it’s to advantage giv’n

that tornadic bursts of clarity pursue the debris forgiven

The Blood

sketchup

My thighs witness atrocities

Rejection of immortal seed

Bloody branches of the family tree

Drip. Smear. Stain laments from me.

Glaring mirror as a flaring marquee

Refusal of sweet heaven’s key.

Why then a memorial to futility?

Why sings death my infertility?

Radical Gratitude

stained-glass-hearts-whimsy

What if we gave everything we received,

More notice than a checkout clerk gives

To your weekly grocery order that happens

To click, beep, clack, whir, and push its way

Birthing into the cocoon of recycled Christmas trees

Or reduced trees that once held dominion over Oregon.

What if we examined every aspect of our day

Giving more attention to the opportunities

Written on billboards, bumper stickers, back alleys,

Cardboard box fragments held by sunburned bits

Of human scattered at the exit ramps like accident debris.

But, there are no accidents. Life doesn’t live itself.

It must be championed, battled, chewed up,

Swallowed whole-heartedly with passion to fire it up

To the blazing hot necessity of burning away

The unnecessary baggage that we all carry.

Let us practice enthusiastic radical gratitude

For laughter

For joy

For peace

For balance

For opportunity to try again tomorrow

Radical gratitude for being able to witness this moment

This creation that we’ve all been gifted

That we all share with beating hearts filled with awe

Peppered with wonder, wondering why we’re here.

Love Lives

The place that is welcoming

is the home where love lives

Not only where love is,

but where it is cherished

nurtured, adored, revered,

but most of all,

given fertile soil to blossom

overly abundant blooms everywhere.

Curtis C.

I felt it before I heard or saw it.
A wave of hostility colored in anger
darkness creeping over hearts
while the warm sun kissed the peaceful.
“He’s white!” I hear her scream.
The grandson, after exchanging
the pungent presence of racism
committed to his violence
flailing at the seat-belted man
Releasing his hatred through his fists.
“STOP! STOP!” I yell at the assault
I bring the confused woman and her beau
water in plastic pink cups
The sun should be clouded over
with the bitterness of repulsion, but it isn’t.
 
The moving van waits
The ministry van drives away
The cops come, take names
forget it even happened.
 
My stomach is repulsed by the waves
still emanating from the gathered group
still aching from the pride fallen dead
in the gutter littered with foul words.

Flowing Life

river

We are the water of the river flowing

our drifting paths are going

to a place we are not knowing

but we struggle to stay the same.

Your spirit releases, trickles and flows

Pushing you farther than you think you can go

Creating depths deeper than you know

We are all uniquely one in the same.

Your passion is best when emotions are flowing

Your traveling feet must keep on going

To gain and learn a gracious knowing

Let’s join in unity to be less of the same