______________   One of the noble covenants of love is how we take turns lifting each other from the limited vision that arises when we are in pain, how we take turns reminding each other that there is more than our pain, more than our despair, while bearing witness to our pain and despair. This poems comes from such a time. BETWEEN THE WALL AND THE FLAME You ask, “How can you believe in anything when there’s pain everywhere?” And... Read more

I was trying to read a book of poets from all over the world but the day and the light led me to feel their lives. This is the poem that arrived. THE BOOK WON’T LET ME HOLD IT This morning, the sun spills from the mountain to the page and try as I will, I can’t read the poems; only the chiseled notes in the back about their lives: this one killed on a forced march to Germany, his... Read more

______________   What if we are being painted by the artist of time? BEING AS ART The pastels of dawn are washing up behind the winter trees as if we are sketches and Being itself is some painter bringing us to life. And today She tries to color us in a bit further. I can feel the brush of eternity stroking the way I think; a bit lighter in front, a tad darker in back. Now a tear is forming... Read more

______________ The deeper the cut, the redder the blood. The deeper the experience, the richer the wisdom. It has always taken more time to reach the deep than the surface. And so it is with each other. It takes time to listen our way beyond the cuts into the depth of each other’s experience where the richness of living waits. This piece explores this mysterious physic of the soul.   WITH THINGS THAT BREAK What matters bears entering more than... Read more

______________ Months after my father died, I found myself in New York City, wandering through the Musuem of Modern Art, a place I love. On the third floor, in an exhibit featuring the work of Gauguin, I felt his presence strongly. A WALK THROUGH TIME Up 7th and over at 53rd, I’m back at MOMA. The last time I was here, I came from the hos- pital where my father was tethered, dangling from his life, his shock of white... Read more

______________ I am a life-long teacher, which means I am a life-long student. I come from a lineage of teachers. And so, I offer this small poem about this noble calling. BEING A TEACHER Like the moon standing full reflecting as much of the Source as it can so those unaccustomed to the dark can find their way, this is the path you have chosen, that has chosen you. A Question to Walk With: In conversation with a friend or... Read more

______________ I’m blessed to be part of a mens group that has been meeting for eight years. We’ve become very close. One of us, Don, describes our closeness this way, “I am living in a trust that now deeply shapes my life.” Once a year, we have a retreat together. After this year’s retreat, I felt each of them so deeply that I had to pull over on the highway and write this poem. FROM HERE TO HERE I’m listening... Read more

______________ It’s been a year since we lost our beloved dog-child Mira. During this time, we have learned even more about the nature of grief and loss, and how no one is exempt from these tender journeys. This poem speaks to what I’ve learned. AFTER MIRA One day, we think we dare to love but find we’ve already given our heart and have no choice but to work our fingers in that unexpected garden. And unimaginable things grow, through us,... Read more

______________ The great philosopher Abraham Heschel speaks of his fear that we will lose our sense of the Whole. I think this is inevitable, though just as inevitable that will find the Whole again. This poem explores this feeling. NOTHING IS SEPARATE All things are true. The wind through the Spanish Moss tells me that this has always been. I must keep my heart open long enough for all things to mix until the alchemy of Oneness softens my time... Read more

______________ For all the hardships that life throws at us, I have always felt that life keeps living. Perhaps not in the same form or in a way that is recognizable. But life keeps pulsing under everything. And no matter the pain or confusion I face, something in me keeps reaching for that irrepressible pulse. This poem comes from my reaching.     A FEW TURNS OF THE MOON From the balcony of this restaurant, I watch a hundred lives... Read more