Post No Bills

Attach nothing to this life.

this life is nothing in & of itself.

I’ve been doing it for maybe longer than you

all I’ve learned is I no longer want to be a particle

but a wave.

What do the words mean anymore?

I understand when I say them, I’m posting the wrong message

the one that these go for in this time.

I’m not talking them in today’s terms, though.

I gave up the moving forward & am taking a u-turn.

I need to have my today re-couched in yesterday.

And not just any yesterday, but a specific, focused, energetic of a yesterday.

the one where words had definition, & borders amongst themselves, & meanings.

I speak them that way at times.

I’m zooming in on my past, doing a close-up on who I was; with who I Am

aligning the two.

Once I got that, I’ll bring in who I want to be.

Life’s Little Potato Peeler

I like the analogy of being a whittler, of tiny shaves & curls of wood

tickling down to feather at my feet.

i like the idea that there might be a beginner spirit in the wood

waiting to get out, to sit on the shelf

to move among the thrift stores of the world.

I know at times, I do this with my life.

My pen makes a great tool; the sharpest knife ever,

that, & my words.

Each memory I consign to the forest floor

will blow into someone else’s tale.

In the Sights

They’ve got me now. Yesterday I fell again. I didn’t say anything to anyone: no one saw me tumble, tripping over the step at Ingo’s stage as I looked at something draped across a chair. I looked away for half a moment.

I am about to begin my Lightworker status. I need to guard myself much more than I have only flirted with before this now. I must do my moving meditations (my meds! / my media) with purpose & solidity, every day & continue them in my mind all day. I need that buffering shield at a time when all I wish to do is grow outward into the world. I’ve kept a low profile, but they can psych me at anywhere & have a vigilance level I care not to live at. The light comes on, I register on their board, & they reach around my shields to swipe me.

In split-second timing, Spirit has already moved me, tossed an angel wing between me & landing. I am placed elsewhere, out of harm’s way. And Harm has nothing in it for me, after all, I wouldn’t think. Just carrying out some kind of program. Running the mazes. Needs to be repurposed.

I have signed affidavits for the Confessional, I’m so clean. Right fire toe, right elbow area, bounced up off my front as my boobs provide a cushion. A little bit about left knee (are you kidding?) I am being brought into some alignment by both sides…by that I mean my ‘good side’ has no qualms about moving into heightened territory if it can be logged as a viable shortcut. I have asked my right arm, no matter what, continue to write.

There is no holdback: there’s no other direction anymore than forward. The need for lateral moves releases by ones & twos. I continue to presume upon Eternity. I agreed to this unlikely path, wandering through the dunes of life, finding it to be on purpose after all. Now I bring shields up. Now I pour on Grace like no tomorrow will ever come. The more I use, the more I HAVE. The more I Am.

There isn’t even time for pain to slow me. I will have healing by dial it up notch by notch again. “I’m ready” sings the voice on the radio all through this entry. I got news, Spirit says you’re ready, there’s no holding back. This is what I came in for.

I’m letting go of the narrative there is good & bad because it’s so mixed in right now I am not sure of that. What I put my faith in is events on their own time can land hard or soft, but land they will & often at the strangest times. I asked for the comet to land.

No one will make me guilty anymore. Everyone proceeds “as if.” Life here is conditional, it’s the ‘and limb’ part that concerns me at this age.



I see now, it’s become a spiral stair.

That was wide open once, everyone together

Rushing up to meet the golden world.

Aglow with their eagerness.

Yet one by one

They moved by me,

They moved around me

As I wandered off to a side.

I wanted to stand still & watch

The people heading by.

Sometimes I’d be joined in a swirl

Of like-thinkers for a while.

We’d connect in a literal 12-step program;

at 13, parting ways.

Most times, tho, I climbed along

An edge, over there, into where.


Not by choice,

But growing weary of departures.

That’s where the spiral stair began.

An idea “you’re better alone, at this point.”

That only fits one at a time.

I was unquestioning.

I notice now the tower around me

That when I emerge, I cross bridges.


My grief is not in my lungs, it’s migrated to my heart,

swollen with sorrows

not even my own.

I am annoyed to have to pay attention.

I am not sickly; my scars are well-earned…

Reminders & I stayed on a good path.

I did well when I remembered to

Search for these with my heart-compass Guide.

She tells me now to let go of it all, to go for the best

Which I can expect since my expectations will fuel nothing less.

I reach again Critical Mass.


When it is time for Ritual, I test a chord in my solar plexus

If it says, “Go fill up.”

I leave the dry sand I’ve been shaping

where it is.

I turn towards outside in degrees

longingly, almost fearful from being In.

One word can set you on a path of looking through

The Window at yourself, instead of staring out.

Now you are in the Ritual world

Where shelter is reversed from your norm

Where you are a little less plugged in all the time

Since it’s so much more meaningful to be unplugged.


I am sifting, seeking whole pieces

Here there is one, a spotted memory for

My back pocket.

Who cares if it’s not mine?

Life can get curious enough, but can

Never satisfy our Curiosity.


I have overcome fear for long periods of elation

Especially in traveling the road.

I auto-resumed balance

While here, on land, I am off-footed.

I would know my chart

To see if this streaking comet

Of self-worth & reassurance soon arrives:

To know to stand with my arms wide open

In welcome.

I just found prayer is the remote, pushed the button

To jump-start my transformation.

It is begun.

Now I need take my bearings

For the center of me,

The spirit core, the one who knows

Where they keep the wings.

Angels fly because they can?

What’s to stop me then?