Into the Soul - Spiritual Poetry

These poems are what arrive when I invite that "something deeper" to speak - that blessed madness that spins planets and curls toes. Feel free to share your thoughts on them. (...and thanks for all the great feedback. I don't always have time to comment back -- but know that I am most grateful!)

Sunday, January 15, 2006


OK, here's what's on my mind.

I was up all night with the incessant
thought that the wildebeest
(as a collective, mind you)
are really holding out on us.

There's something they’re not letting on,
and it's really getting to me now.

I see them on the National Geographic Channel...

Ya Sure! They look simple enough - huddled
around in their little "herds", shaking off flies,
pretending to be some insignificant tributary off
evolution's headwaters.

But what's really going on?

I'll tell ya, plain and simple... Snickering.

And the tigers? Ya, they're in on it too!

I hate to break it to you folks,
but we're the only ones that
don't get it.

We're too busy using cell phones,
collecting beanie babies, and
inventing shoes that morph
into roller skates.

How often do you even take
the time to notice that blazing
god of a sun that bursts through
your window every morning,
pulsing its light codes to
10 zillion plants,
saying GROW BABY!

we're far too busy erecting
concrete gardens that
hermetically seal us off
into a world where
LOVE must have
two arms
and two legs
attached to it.

When the real love,
The BIG Love, is off
building thousands
of corpuscles in your left
elbow and navigating
famished hedgehogs to
their next meal.

We’ve accomplished
quite a feat -
to shoehorn something so vast
into a holiday that equates
chocolates and roses
with that which furnishes
entire planets with

So it's time for a field trip, kids.
Back to the African plains!

Best bring a notebook and
something to drink.

We could be a while.


I stood there
in the lobby
eyes bloodshot

worn out




is it over?
am I safe?

outside -
the sweet

and a tree
parked cars

a laughing beach
no one ever colored
with time,
makes birds
and blue

outside -
the soul
the body

the way
mothers do

the way
fathers do

with a story
or a warm

outside -

the vast vast



Anvils and Archangels

and a soft wind
and white buffalo

invade my life
like marauders

stealing my
anvils and chains -

replace them
with butterfly wings
and winged Archangels

The place where soul
meets flesh is a
tricky place -

a shaman's open hand
to a rising sun

the only
true sign
of contact

The Moment I Gave Up Trying

It was a Sunday,
I think

There were just too many
loose ends chanting me
down, accosting me
like beggars

encircling me

I felt like a clown
in one of those
Fellini movies -

out of place

a somewhat
surreal presence
in my own life

There I sat,
head in hand

as if looking
out over a

"That's it!
I Give Up!"

A funny five
words, don't
you think?

Not much on
their own

Like the gesture
a demolitionist
uses to cue
the explosives

The bottom
floors were
first to go...

the daily
the way my hair

then, the
bigger things -

sense of place,
purpose, direction,

sense of self

Yep, that's the one...

"sense of self"

everything got
real quiet after that.


the distant
flapping of wings

Sliding Into Home

There's a stone
in my pocket

and a storm
on my lips

great field voices
of cane and wheat

songs from the
Southern people
inside me

equinox and
solstice folk
deep inside
the Earth

Deep inside
my bones

growling for
that summer wind

an air to
ride the
back of

sliding into home.

Saturday, January 14, 2006


careful breeze

wrinkled pelt

moonlit vagabond

lucky tree

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Another Reminder

The next time you pick up your car keys
or turn off a light switch
you'll remember this poem.

How do I know?

Because many years ago,
when you were still very young
you caught a glimpse of this moment
staring at a computer screen
reading these words.

One of the many reminders you set up for yourself,
like so many bread crumbs marking the path home

And the reminder is this:

If you've forgotten to look with awe and wonder at
the world around you

If you've forgotten that you are eternally innocent,
no matter how long the list of bad things
you think you've done

Then bookmark this poem and come back tomorrow
and I'll remind you again.

In the mean time,
try to have some fun.

You're taking things WAY too seriously.