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Archive for March, 2017

The final full moon of Winter 2017: the Worm Moon {Native Americans} or Storm Moon {Pagan Rites} or Lenten Moon {Christianity}. Also known as the Seed Moon or Chaste Moon. This is the final moon of Winter 2017 and the last full moon before the Spring Equinox. Tonight is also the time that Daylight Saving Time ends in most states of the U.S… returning time and hours to their natural cycle and us to a more harmonious rhythm. The days will be longer thanks to moving the clock ahead one hour -in the UK this is called “Summer Time”. This is the moon of nature’s rebirth from the dark winter months; its meaning is new, fresh starts.


//These poems were typed, not copy-pasted. It makes a difference.//


Venus Just Asked Me 


Perhaps 

For just one minute out of the day 

It may be of value to torture yourself 

With thoughts like, 


“I should be doing 

A hell of a lot more with my life than I am 

Cause I’m so darned talented” 


But remember,

For just one minute of the day. 


With all the rest of your time-

It would be best

To try

Looking upon your self more as God does. 


For He knows

Your true royal nature.  


God is never confused 

And can see Only Himself in you.  


My dear, 

Venus just leaned down and asked me 

To tell you a secret, to confess 


She’s just a mirror who has been stealing 

Your light and music for centuries 



She knows as does Hafiz,

You are the sole heir to 

The King.




Hafiz



The Size of the Love-Bruise


The

Gauge of a good poem is 

The size of the love-bruise it leaves 

On your neck. 

Or 

The size of the love-bruise it can paint 

On your brain.

Or 

The size of the love-bruise it can weave 

Into your soul. 

Or indeed-

It could be all of the 

Above. 




Hafiz


 …


The Shape of Laughter


Let my words become like a skilled 

Potter’s hands, 


Quieting,

Smoothing your life 

With their knowledge,


Reaching into your tender core 

And spreading you out 

Like the morning 


That leaps from the sun’s amused wink 

Onto hills, brows and backs of so many

Beautiful laboring beasts.


God’s duty is to make perfect 

All your movements of mind, of limb,

And your ascending shape of laughter.


Watch the way my hands dance 

With their diamond-edged brilliance 


Cutting you open with music, 

Reaching into your heart


And spilling the night sky- jar you carry 

That is always full of giggling planets and stars. 



My words are a divine potter’s wheel.

If you stay near to me, 

Please, 

Stay near to me–



And Hafiz will spin you into 

Love.




Hafiz



…..

The Fools Who Dream 


Here’s to the ones

who dream

Foolish, as they may seem

Here’s to the hearts

that ache

Here’s to the mess

we make


She told me:

A bit of madness is key

to give us to color to see

Who knows where it will lead us?


And that’s why they need us,

So bring on the rebels

The ripples from pebbles

The painters, and poets, and plays


And here’s to the fools

who dream

Crazy, as they may seem

Here’s to the hearts that break

Here’s to the mess we make


From “La La Land”, 2017 

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A night light-writing ( photograph) of one of my favorite homes in my neighborhood held a sweet surprise. 

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Moving


I think moving is not the few hours on a bleary Saturday morning

-the act of-

No, it is weeks:

Looking around at everything you love

And know you’re going

to have to say goodbye.


Like holding a lover for the last time

A little death


Everything we know is going to end

One day 

They say”


Maybe moves and doomed love affairs are

God’s gentle way of reminding us

Nothing is permanent.



Remember that last look

right before you closed the door

and knew you wouldn’t be back?

Isn’t that the definition of living,

Isn’t that the definition of loving.

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Love is On | Or When the Rose Showed its Thorns. Paint, found objects, fabric, dry roses. March 2017.


My friends,

I had to choose between sleep and Art 

Between clear eyes and Poetry 

So I chose to get lost in Divine intoxication

Now Hafiz and Rumi while away the small of the night with me 

I drink their wine

Frida winks at me and snaps her fan 

I took leave of the land of the measured – now I only visit-

 I shall follow my heart and the Muse 

(she does not come to those who run their life like a business – and  a clean easel is the saddest sight you will ever see) 

Now my hands are tinted blue 

I hear the birds praying each dawn 

And I smile. 



San Diego, March 6, 2017 

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