Poem: “Eucharist” We come around a table lean-to. Some people with smiles and yet others with sullen brows. We’re surrounded by family and friends, our community. Words are spoken; reminders of deeds done and actions yet fulfilled. A thanksgiving shared from the body: a piece of bread and a cup of the vine, a broken body and poured out blood. Agreement to a shared new bond between creator and creation. A celebration of all things being made new and of... Read more
I have great respect and love for nature and the outdoors. I was born and raised in Northern California. When I lived in Santa Rosa, I didn’t give a second thought to driving to Bodega Bay, the Russian River or taking a saunter in Jack London State Park, and then driving to the Sierras the next day. Mountain biking, hiking, or backpacking was a part of my life—the wilderness has always been a place of refuge and healing for me.... Read more
Poem: “Maelstrom of Kindness” It’s hard to see the extravagant gestures of kindness around us when our eyes are being conditioned to see the controversial and maelstrom. I’m sitting here thinking and thinking and thinking. Why are my memories blank of public spirit? I look at my reflection in the ripples and thump my finger against my chest and say, It begins here. Read more
I went to the coffee shop early this morning. We’re closed on Sundays, but our town is having a Veteran’s Day parade later this morning, so we will be open for those few hours of the parade. Small businesses gotta get what we can, plus it’s chilly out today so people will want coffee and hot chocolate. Someone has to give the goods. As I braved the bone-chilling cold this morning and headed on over to the coffee shop, a... Read more
“Do not love the World” Dust swooped and full of hustle and bustle. It’s similar to other places yet different. I call it home, but it’s not really home. In fact, I’m not sure where home is at this point in life. Is it this dusty town? Where is home? A question that destines a nomad’s life for those who have no place to lay their head. Am I one of those steppe wanderers? The ones you read about in... Read more
I grew up in a neighborhood in Southwest Santa Rosa at the time when there were sporadic fields between houses with clumps of California Poppies mingling with tall grass, the occasional grove of the majestic valley oak and a random Gravenstein apple tree.The older folks from the neighborhood would tell us stories of sprawling orchards and of cows roaming the land where the houses now took their place. It’s in this neighborhood I learned the lessons of human value and... Read more
Poem: “Long Revealing” newborn infants arrive into a decaying creation in tender regalia, and long for nourishment—seeking to have their hunger sated. they thirst for spiritual milk to feed their salvation and move deeper into a knowledge the of divine. but it’s not enough. infants seek more they seek the beyond. corruption comes with desires beyond what the divine offers. the destroyer of mature contentment is a belly full of unripe tart and bitter apples. their only way is... Read more
Life definitely has it’s twists and turns. Sometimes our lives end up in a way we’d never imagine. As I’m typing these words, I am watching a young family being torn apart in front of our coffee shop. A mom and dad are being arrested, as their four year old little girl looks on in tears. I don’t know the offense the mom has committed—the police are tearing the truck apart. But I know this little girl will never... Read more
Tanka Poem: “Look to Spring” Fall glides from summer. Nature unfolds, shadows hold. Kiss of sleep to eyes, And decaying roots sink in. Frost over trees look to spring. Read more
Poem: “This Place we call Tierra” the unknotting of oneself from this thing we call Tierra is an alluring endeavor—a far off untouchable fantasy or nightmare. we dream it’s like balloons knotted around a child’s wrist seeking to be untethered and float away into the blue beyond. so to our elusive desires can overwhelm us to think there’s no hope— no hope of being a part of something beautiful and wonderful. but nothing is farther from the truth. we’re knotted... Read more
Joe Puentes
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In