Riding the Light


Sticky with need, hungered with longing

Speaking In Poetry: a potlatch of words/images

Ideas like pebbles tossed down a well

Just to hear the splash.

I once thought words built houses

Safe spaces wherein dwelling

Was of comfort & whole

Yet the wind whistles through verbs,

Rain washes away adjectives.

I am left holding only the idea

I thought writing would coalesce into love.


And this is her fate:

The always of the clock

Hanging silent for one D battery…

Still right twice upon each whirling day

At Ingo’s, the clock runs backward

But offers no undoing

Simply reversing Time’s forward dance

Now the Mandela Effect

Of my soul’s Mandala steps forward

Running down my arm onto paper

The lanky outpour of a million years lived

A thousand years loved

A past of pens, a present of words



If words are a spell, I am deeply ensorcelled

Splayed on a pentagram of circles, stars & points to ponder.

If love is an event, I arrived just in time to take down the banner.

If heaven is a train, my watch put me past its departure.

I’m always arriving after the wards are set;

When time rests on its haunches

Always in between beginnings

Resounding climax dying away

The years haven’t softened me any

They washed off the pluff mud

Rending me to bare rock

Knuckled & craggy

Slapping back at the waters

Urgent & laughing,

Bent on uprooting me

To tumble downriver.

My footprint is a mantra

My pedigree soundly peasant

I am who I am that I am

Blessing & Muse & all that occurs

In that Between.


Dumbledore’s Cauldron

I love the Pensieve

Where a wizard fishes out a single memory

From the mercury swarm afloat

Freeing if from fellows

All a-clamor for attention…

The memory, laid upon a towel to dry

Smelling of holy water & salt

Circling up with the prod of one fat finger

A stain of brine, a sharp cut of odor

A former place to be in the mind

Moved on to the present & far beyond.

I rest it upon my upper lip:

A clarion moment to inhale

Chill with wet suppositions –

Sodden strings of should/could/would/if

And just before it dries to sere

I flick it back to its pickling medium

It brightens, bubbles, swims away

A squirt of ink, an idea of smoke

Who will venture a guess who’s more free?


I am a rogue mouthpiece for one small voice in the universe

An egg & a sperm penetrated long ago,

Perpetrated in a cosmic giggle

No longer in gravitas, simply gravid

Yet so fully lifted into life by the dreams of heaven

A breath of patchouli, of sage & ylang-ylang

A brilliant magnolia blossom, white on green-wax leaves

A ciliated, petalled moon.

I am a night-shadow, caught for a moment

In sweaty mystery.

The light of a false dawn, fading but a moment after.

Yet for all the ephemeral I find myself to be

There’s no doubt of my footprints

Crossing space-time, my spoor off the paths of heaven

Leading to those mountaintops, to the moment insubstantial

When I return to the memory of God

Who’s almost forgotten me,

“Oh, there you are! I just thought of you the other day, my dear!

I felt you all this time, you know, playing peekaboo on the trail.”


These poems are running waters wearing me away

Rushing over grooves of white-salt runnels in rock

The years serve singled purpose: teaching me to fly

Oh yes, there will be a time

When laughter is my only memory:

The Holy Grail of life softened by a smile.

I have stalked the boundaries of heaven,

Drawn by a promise, a waft of pie-on-a-windowsill

A cool glass for an overheated soul to rest against

Taken by the view inside.

I am a vision, a shimmer in the corner of your eye

A snatch of bright song on an emptied-out day

A dip into perfume’s transitory promise

God has scraped His knuckles over me

I am bruised, imperfect, parts I started with now missing,

An angel touched down but for a moment but netted by gravity.

A breath of calm moisture on a searing hot day

I am the red shoes not dancing, the bare feet rejoicing; free.

Step out of your cities to my green velvet pastures

Allow the sun of my morning to break your frosted night,

Find in me that once-told joining of all you are to all you can be

Where you are born once again; born Holy.

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