GROUNDHOG DAY
While I feared my shadow
it was never spring
GROUNDHOG DAY
While I feared my shadow
it was never spring
WRITING THE AUSTRALIAN TRIP
We went to teach, we went to learn
we did a lot of both and more of some
We met amazing people – they met us
perhaps none will be the same again
Details I leave for further poems
which I hurry to hurry to write
before the ripples rippling out
are lost
clockwise and counter clock
down the toilet bowl of time
I SHAMAN
Once again I touch
and pull back from my Shaman self
the thinning veil becomes
once again a curtain, and a wall
And what if the wall should fall
Could I face the demands
people might place on me for their healing
– the responsibility for my own
Could I resist using powers for personal gain
breaking the balls of traitorous pals
or poking pins in political dolls
Perhaps I will think about this again tomorrow
for as Scarlet says “Tomorrow is another day”
And tomorrow is Tuesday
and tonight is Monday Night Football
HE GOES ALONE TO COUPLES THERAPY
And finds that it is mostly
a matter of listening to the other
Honoring equals love, or trumps it,
or extends it, or replaces it nicely
Respect means never having
to say you’re sorry, when you’re not
and will know you’re lying anyway
Hours are fifty minutes long
the other ten a gift from God
He goes home, his feet lighter
for the shadows sown on
He is afraid people
will think that he can’t spell
and means sewn, like Peter Pan
not seeds, and seeds, and soil
I’M READY FOR MY NEW HIP NOW
I think I have finally forgiven
My old hip for all those years of pain
My mother for her hesitation
to carry me in a time of war
My father for the crushings
between the baler and the shed
and between his will and mine
And have taken also
the first small steps toward gratitude
for how far all three have carried me
THE OLD PLACE
Drove past the old place today
amazed at how small and dark
it had suddenly become
Like your mind just before
you learned the thing
that changed everything
GOTTA GETTA GURU
Gotta getta guru
More dharma and less drama
Master-peace theatre
DEAD DOG WAKING
My muscles were turning to bone
as my bones had turned to stone
I still could walk
though less each year
from place to place
from house to house
from car to bar
bar to car
Or sometimes
with a special you
to view a special view
But there was no pleasure
in the walk itself
Nor had their been
as I recall
since the age of five
when my dog was still alive
and we would roam the ranch
from dawn to stealthing dark
with spring in both our steps
And then
just as I was about
to fall into winter
Emilie Conrad came along
That serpentinian septuagenarian
that Guru of fluid and flow
high priestess of Continuum
breath, movement, and sound
bringing into awareness
the waves under the patterns
Teaching the embracing
of possibilities in bodies
as Hal and Sidra Stone
teach embracing of selves
Reminding
how much of us is water
and the fluid capability
of systems to transform
This story isn’t over yet
but there is a new lightness
at the end of the tunnel
CAR OF JOY
The car of joy runs
on wheels of completed grief
PSYCHOTHERAPY or A SIX YEAR OLD LEARNS ABOUT CLOCKS
The difficulty
in taking things apart to see why they tick
can often be
in putting them back together again