Seven Summer Samauri

(2020 Isn’t Even Over.)



Doldrums not dolphins

Lockdown, not “Hey, stop down!”

 I have arrived

In my earliest summer mornings

I am relaxed…

 Body memory takes me back

Anatomically, a switch fires:

I am hanging clothes for Mom in the backyard,

Alongside the Little House.

 This is experience, not memory.

I can tie it to the other summer mornings on my belt & move on.

(1)a   Sense

I have the Sense that time is playing peek-a-boo

Time meant “life” as we knew it

Before the Ides of March arrived on the 23rd here…when

Time actually became a worthless currency – erased from the face of the clocks.

(What did it matter when we took off our pajamas?)

We had time all over our hands, dripping off, unimportant, schedules erased, through no fault of our own.

It ran off the clock in inky blackness we tried to catch & put back up. Instead we were made to wash our hands of all of it.

Time wasn’t money…but it was worth it.

We backed into not knowing the next of it

Days passed, even cravings vanished eventually, let alone news accuracy.

It began to feel “right” to seal inside – of course I can always say

it’s part of the heat signature, if asked.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t plan for the world to fall asunder,

At least as I’d known it.

All the bubbles are popping

All the soap operas ushering on their fat ladies with sweeping bows.

Mom always said, “Have six month’s expenses in the bank.” Ah! The description of a dream of my very own!

Between the moments of evolution & the next Emergence of holy life

We stand poised, yet learning by discovery (as always)

You live by your prayers, your wits, your altered (alerted) senses, until you live by habit, by rote; all alike as box stores at the edges of scintillant consciousness.



Again cornered with un-betokened dark news

Clothing myself in worded Psalms!

O, Lord! Added to the  head of the line.


My Arrival

Is the short reply to a long-awaited answer.

Mystery a lá Alchemy

Finding at the end of “What was I thinking?” a

Long, drawn-out “Ohhh.”


My Arrival II

A resounding & magical “Amen” to all my prayers

(humble as they were, they were mine)

As a Traveler of Words, I evolve quickly,

Like, with a wish.


My Arrival III

There is no GPS in heaven – you either know where

You’re going, or you leave.

Some of us agreed to be the leavers

Some of us travel lightly across worlds

In no particular order other than within.


A Theatre of Words

One letter shy of encompassment –

An Imprimatur emerges in my life

I acknowledge my me as the only one

& thus the best.

My next moments are spent

Tagging the universe & running away.


I’m Here!

I was waiting for the Light. I was watching it magnify around me

As one by one by solitary one, all the descriptions I might have for it

Melted away to simply standing still.

childhood, Part One


My mantra was, “I cannot remember the child I was” or all the years of now between then.

She has taken to showing up, slipping postcards of our past under my door.

Yet my memories of her are as foolish and small, hesitant & fearful.

(How I wish I could take them back to uncreate! Urge “Be cool, suave, debonair! All answers lie beyond your patience.”)

I wished to be in reality – as I seemed

In other realms.

If only my environment had prepared an ounce of the pound of me.


I recall being tiny

Braids so severe, my scalp stayed taut

Hypervigilance in glasses – blinkered by nystagmus/

Glasses impossible to keep on my nose.


I lived an imitation life, so much safer than living my own which was hidden for the foolish moments, hazy on salt air, striped in shadows.

I felt launched, like an episode of Quantum Leap into the Carol life,

Choosing only the stars that spoke loudest save I be missed.


I remember cartoons: sporadic family interactions: Reading!

These all indoors, but outside of the house only five long blocks to the beach, where an entirely offset (offshoot?) of me crystallized. And although I knew the beach would be where it always was, I was always grateful to it for being there.


Later in life I would remark, “the beach was my mother.”

I remember the beach: coming upon it

Digging into it for shelter; cool sand-silk just touched by sun,

Walking to the water where all smoothed into invitation: sand: sea: sun coalescent, the chanced Kaleidoscope of my life fitting into synchrony: I was perfect right there.

I must have memorized it with my breath.

Here I laid down all weapons, prayed my heart to open;

 here it was clear I was here only to be here – a placeholder

for divinity.

As sure as the reminiscent moon feathering off above.

I re-call the playing light & shadow, even rain, legendary whips of storm.

What I don’t remember is the other 80%.


End Part I: Placeholder for Divinity Series

Moving Closer to the Moon

I thought T or C would be my stay-place: my spot to live out my 70’s (which, by the way, I’m just getting comfortable in.) However, now I’m told to move on. And that I’ll move three more times after this one!

There is a total allure to relocating. Higher mountains, closer to the moon, furry pines to breathe, colder winds & much more snow.

Truly, I love the adventure & discovery of life Somewhere Else. I enjoy arrival, the three turns of settling in, the capability to love more, whether friends, a lover or a slice of scenery.

There is much to be said of love: life with it & without it. Oh, not the love of friends, but the Love of that self-offering where shields can be put aside & the whistle of warning becomes a coaxing sound. The dance opens to my steps.

I move away from love towards love. As I reach 72, perhaps I’ll settle  into this decade of 3D time. And still so much to explore.

Are transigence & intransigence the most fallow for me? In many senses & tenses, just “yes.”

The spear of Sagittarius rising arcs across my heart, defining yet another new path. Since 2013, I have lived in Ruidoso, Ocean City, Berlin, West Fenwick, Hillsboro & T or C. That arc is a goad & a lodestar at once.

My goals are to be in a higher elevation, a smaller, welcoming population base, reinventing myself there & renewing my attachment to the terrain of mountains. I want to live more of my dreams aloud with permission from this me through Higher Self.

I see me on a deck, overlooking the play of light on trees, the moon darting between, shy now we are in propinquity. I smell that distillation of fir-scented air & chill, ground from stardust. I walk steeper paths on frosty floors. I grow accustomed once more to bracing cold.

While nowhere near, I am already there…give or take a year.