30/30 poems....

When Asked (April 16^th poem)

When asked to explain my poetry I sometimes do comply

I don’t know why when so well do I know

Such interpretation cannot but be mistaken

The power of poetry lies not in meter

Story or its author’s dramatic bio but rather

In the many ways it can mean the many things

It can be/innumerable ways it can be taken

.......

I Used to Love People  (April 15^th poem)

I used to love people

Carelessly and with fervor

Self-lessly oh yes, but…

I used to want people

Pursue dance chase

Seduce and reel in spoils

Passionately, indeed, and yet…

I used to think it mattered

If I was memorable evoked

A shudder a shock a stutter

Oh! Look what I’ve done!

I used to know people

According to what they

Told me/ showed me

Ah, the spectacle the elaborate

The wow show, oh

I used to give people what

They said to give, nevermind

What they needed, I used to…

 .......

April 14th poem

A small branch flutters

Twirling it falls to the ground

Mother bird where are you

The fruit of your nestwork awaits

April 13th poem
For Bailey Rose 

Wise beyond words
Beauty enough for crying
A visionary stalking eternity
Watch carefully this womanchild

I Travel For...(April 10th poem)

I travel for the stories
Sometimes you have to
Be willing to hunt
Down the living
That is worth the telling



I am one day behind on my poems. Spent today driving back to LA from Oakland after a minor petsitting snafu in Oakland drastically altered my plans...

In a couple days I head up to Harbin Springs fro my poetry feature on Sunday, April 14th.

There are temples...(April 9th poem)

There are temples

Poets, mothers

Holy grounds everywhere

Sacred places

We can go

Moments when Spirit

Reaches for us runs

Us down, cries for us

Tethers us to Source

There are people plants

Fuzzy creatures who remind us

Beauty that blinds us

Coincidences which insist

Dramatic events that seize

Erase our ability to ignore

Absorb

In short, we have

No excuse

For not knowing

There is more

Broken Promises (April 8th poem)

We all make them: promises

We all eventually break one

Some lightly others

With true angst

Some promises are meant

To be broken

Some should never

Have been made

Sometimes we lie

With our eyes open wide

Sometimes we are cowards

Slipping away

Refusing to say

Never owning up never paying

For our mistakes

Sometimes we have no

Idea what giving

Our word means

What consequences

Breaking it brings

Sometimes we just don’t care

Living in a world of ME

We all make them: promises

But how often we break them

How seriously we take them

Defines what kind of people

We have become