we never know, really
what dreams will fill us
we turn off the light
close our eyes, and
the rest is left to our pillow

always dreams growing, under
the cover of so many masks
so many faraway places, thundering
in the background, waiting
for lightning to strike, and free us

some, full length movies, playing
over and over and over again
others, tantalizing clips, whetting
our appetites for more–
more than we can imagine

our dreams free us, if we allow them
to fill places inside us not yet born
as faint outlines they emerge
some ghosts, but most reminders
of what we’ve forgotten

Politics and Snowflakes

We expect too much from government
Too much from politicians–
those we elect to lead us
Those to whom we entrust the public interest

Elected officials should be accountable
That’s not my point. My point is:
Never ask someone else to do
what you must do for yourself

Perhaps you disagree
and that’s alright, but
consider what we abdicate to strangers
we ask to sit in high places, like gods

Those we ask to make change on our behalf
Change most likely we should make in ourselves
Gandhi had it right:
Be the change you want to see in the world

I’ve tired of all the political promises
Those kept, those broken
Those kept can be the worst, especially those
dragging us from one extreme to another

I try not to be cynical about politics, but
I’m tired of senseless power struggles, and
all the he said she said’s
For me, November will always be about Thanksgiving

Snowflakes make more sense than politics
especially during election years
Each is different, but together they make snow
and they don’t make promises they can’t keep

Early February Morning Moment

Numbing cold February morning
A quiescent interlude, a place just beyond
Winter melodies drift like wind-swept snow
The forest, a white goose down quilt
A slumbering world fills with peace

For just one moment
something less becomes more
In that moment, naked knowing
In that place in-between–
A place of equanimity appears

Quickly as it comes, it goes
No touching back what can only touch us
No holding onto what passes through us
No container giving shape to shapeless beauty
Eventually, all snowflakes return to water

Spidering Questions and Answers

No answers, just questions
Probes, like spiders, climbing
one wall, then another
until all possibilities have been touched

Questions, most faint shooting stars
burning out before finding answers
Truth, last thing to come of questions
Answers, but questions turned inside out

Riddles fill holes left by lies
Sometimes thinking they are answers
Upon reflection we see
they too are spiders

Word play, perhaps
Some call it poetry
Others see sheer entertainment
Me? Just more spiders spinning webs


A gift to Jessi from a friend
Fast becoming a receptacle for love
A small spirited dog, overflowing with life
An angel, in name and spirit

Everyday, a companion, trusting friend
Courageous protector
At times, a playful heat-seeking missile
Always a bearer of happiness and joy

One of God’s precious creatures
Given in a moment without hestitation
Returned just as quickly
into God’s ever open arms

Empty spots in all she touched
More given than ever taken
For Jessi, a friend for life
An angel in name and spirit

Sacred Cows and Sacrificial Lambs

Sacred cows, what we won’t give up
Not that Holstein, Jersey, Hereford
But, how about that beef with your sister, or
that cow you had over losing the business deal?

Maybe it’s that professional mask you wear, or
your fetish for Levy stonewashed jeans, or
that beard you’ve worn since college, or even
your spoiled son draining you in your old age

Sacrificial lambs, what we give up
instead of what we should give up
Could be anything we don’t really care about
Anything but a sacred cow

Maybe it’s drinking diet Pepsi
instead of surrendering that chocolate addiction
Could be keeping your dreadful current job
instead of growing the career that’s right for you

Sacred cows, what we protect
to keep from changing
Sacrificial lambs, what we surrender
to keep from changing