accidentally cut my pericardium meridian, badly, august 2003

my heart
beat differently
in the days after

what I tore open
became
an instructive gash
fractal of love

before that sudden cut
I had wandered
always in fire
and no true heart
caressed my blood
that was the season

of my barren heart

now
an injury
I don’t know how

brought me water

now dreams could gel
into form’s fullness

dreams of
the zinnia’s stout mandala
the loon’s flutter-call
the hurricane’s ordered power
the butterfly’s punctuation
of air
the tree’s sidewalk-splitting growth

dreams of
the porcupine’s infective spines
the vulture’s telling circles
the mud’s layer of slime
the flies’ ecstatic swarming
of dog shit
the landfill’s long methane fart

How am I
to lay my treasure
at this world’s feet?

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creature, creative

“The word ‘creative’ shares its etymology with the word ‘creature,’ and carries a similar sense of breathing aliveness, of an active, fine-grained, and multicellular making.” —Jane Hirshfield, Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World, Alfred A. Knopf, New York 2015, pg. 3.

after receiving acupuncture for my lung

I.

I wake from a dream
buying gerbera daisies
to place in a vase
the dream has convinced me I own—

since I’ve moved
I no longer know where anything hides
in the heavy, cluttered boxes
crowding closets

perpetual loss, that’s what fills those boxes
and I resent my partner
for pulling me here
and that reminds me

with a sudden catch of breath, how

very soon after
I was born
all the beauty I had ever known
faded

into endless, sterile white

I catch glimpses
now and then
of the place that came before—
yesterday—

when the needle punctured the skin
where that toe meets my sole

“For your lungs,” the healer said
and indeed, in an instant waking dream
floated
the filigree coral
suffused with softest red
of my lung
nothing less than

life’s tenuous perfection

and now the morning of the vase, here and then gone,
tells me that held in the pulse of air and blood

is a lace of remembrance

my first days here
the shock and grief
of the move—

my grief, which has been so precious to me,
for its waters
could anytime have been my river back,
back to the place before—
through drowning
in phlegm’s embrace
I would have gone many times
gladly, gladly

I would have gone
gladly, gladly

had not some faint sound
pulled me
the other way

I still do not understand that direction
all I know is—
ahead of me
the river now has shores

II.

shores of shimmering sound
embankments of my heart
reason to stay

I don’t remember sound
in that other place
not quite like ours, anyway

I was ready to play, I was ready
to throb

click done

Hello. I appreciate your visits to this blog.

I’m finally complete with my check of everything I’ve posted here since July, 2013. I wanted to make sure that everything was looking good in the new template I applied last October.

I’ve revised many poems. I deleted a fair number. Some poems that started out as attempts at haiku I judged as haiku failures, and I turned them into something else.

Going through this sifting and sorting process, it dawned on me that I now consider the poems published up until this point to be a complete body of work.

I now plan to update the Favorites page and then go on to posting longer poems, on a slower schedule, and on a broader range of themes—probably every few weeks or so.

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If you have 15 to 30 minutes to spare, I invite you to a site I consider one of the most important on the net: www.geoengineeringwatch.org.

If you’re confused as to why I keep linking to www.geoengineeringwatch.org and trying to bring to your attention the vast destruction caused by climate engineering, given that this is a poetry site… think about it for a minute! I’m an artist who revels in writing about the natural world. Since moving to rural New Mexico in 2012, the rate of destruction I see in my own backyard has accelerated noticeably. One of several reasons I feel done with writing my daily nature poem is that when I go outside nowadays, I find increasingly more to be sad about. It doesn’t mean that I don’t still see beauty and celebrate what’s lovely around me—and it has been getting harder for me to find those moments of inspiration in the midst of seeing more and more destruction.

My muse is feeling moved to respond more directly to the situation at hand. I’m more of an artist than an activist, so a fair bit of that response will probably be oblique and/or subtle. Some of the shift in my direction will likely make it into this blog, some of it will be expressed in other ways.

Thanks again for reading.

maintenance mode

Hello and thank you for visiting this blog. I appreciate you reading, visiting, and commenting!

Because of my recent redesign of this blog and the two others I own, Heart of Life Music and Heart of Life Alchemy, I have literally hundreds of posts to check, to ensure that each one displays the way I want it to, given the new templates. (A word of advice to new bloggers: choose your template carefully. : )

In addition, as I check through my posts at this blog and others, I find plenty of writing I want to revise. Sometimes I face the decision of whether or not to trash a particular poem or post.

I’m also behind on thanking my new followers, and keeping up with the blogs I follow.

The year 2014 is almost over. I decided yesterday that now is the time to get all the above “maintenance” jobs taken care of, so that I can enter 2015 ready to receive and share fresh inspiration. I plan to begin posting poetry again sometime near the transition between 2014 and 2015.

In the meantime, I can think of no better way to end this post than to encourage you to educate yourself about one of the great global challenges we face at this time: climate engineering.  You can find out more at www.geoengineeringwatch.org.

evening

winter-20248_640

stillness after snow
even here, where there’s no noise
weight has its own sound

Photo: See it at Pixabay here.

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I love real weather—it’s looks, its feels, it’s smells. I am hopeful that we can preserve real weather on our planet, which is why I invite you to visit www.geoengineeringwatch.org.