big sky music,

stars flung upon the night, nestling in fragrant grass, unwound by the infinite.

a wider peace

friends, a circle, a fire, a scent of sage
cowboy-quiet around sparks
tin cup in fingers
nothing to say
connected deeper than that.

dirt
making its smell present
dirt being Texas
damp dirt red and endless
sturdy under ass.

boots rough and scraped
comfortable
unpretending
at rest
quiet
knees easy
arms lazy
breathing unguarded
no time
no waiting
nor hurry

the weeds, the wild, the sprigs: teasers
the nose rush:
drugs to earthy lullaby swing.
cradle of earth
moon a beam a candle a
fire mesmerizing hypnotic,

one letting go of all

self, letting
be letting be
letting
be the freedom
of letting be

the shoulders dropped, sloughed off
like a snow bank sliding off a roof angle under sun
all at once in a slow sleepy quiet-heavy sliding.

all the shelves, the binds, the boulders
the crosses, albatrosses,
clatters, clusters:
lower,
rough slid slipped
like tears
like letting go of a baby

go of need
of grasping
a lover’s love
go another soul

a fierce hatred

a red, a black,
a blank, a field of white noise, a hurt, a cry, a loss, a black hole

letting
go
allowing
letting
go

riding river but not riding
no acting, asserting, defending;

relinquishing
slipping like the snow,
off,
sliding
away

being carried
by the river stars
the breathing air

the wind at grace, un
hurried un worried un captured un bound un
caught or catchable un
touchable but touching

letting slide, melting
unwanting

uncrying
un hating
un fighting
un puzzling
un driving
un piercing
jaws un clamping,
the fight in you slowly letting down its arms.

the fear in you
bubbling, receding, like the inhalation of a wave,
or the swirling down a drain.

slough off dead skin: cracking open like
old cover too tight, too battered, scratchy and panic making tight…

letting
all
be

stone.

a stone
is everything
is one

wholeness,
solid,

hypnotic like fire
with flowing subtleties;

is a bread crumb,
is a star,
is dust

is hurtful sharp hard shard
then soft,
quiet,
patient,
a measure of peace

trying nothing
expecting none
totally heavy
carrying tension nowhere
no muscles
no holding tight
heavy everywhere the same
dreamy everywhere the same

no right or wrong in a stone
no failure or forgiveness
no drive or guilt

dirt i will be
why not now
in the silent stars air night dirt grass flatness openness allness rest.

I see a silhouette
within the frame;
I hesitate.

To speak my name
would be an act of faith:
to tread upon
a path of flame.

A dream I had forgotten
the swelter of Cienfuegos,
—naked baby birds; nests;
a blue jay speaking with me daily,
the songs,
the songs…

Windows—cruel, brilliant
wounds—riven into
light
by the merciless precision
of the stone cutter’s blade.

A bird’s delicate tracks, vanishing
into wet sand…
what else has been lost, in the slap
and rustle of weeping waves?

Angles, Cracks and Gleamings

Mosaic
1. That which can be made only from things broken; from shards.
2. The act of creatively, playfully, soulfully, attentively, reconceiving and rearranging shards, into: pattern, beauty, harmony, coherence, concept, wholeness, belonging, identity, recognizableness: a new life.

Salt and Honey: Shattering and Bliss
Wings: A Story of Shattering and Bliss may offer a glimpse of my creative source, process, purpose.

Salt and Honey is the space in which I begin to gather the fragments of my shattered universe, and the jewels unearthed below.

Gather and arrange… and re-arrange… turning each against each other, so that I may see them in new ways.

So that I might begin, to discern: forms, meanings, messages… coalesce, from serendipitous combinations.

I may hope… to perceive storylines hidden within them, which only become coherent as I intuit the rhythms that their various shapes, colors, and textures seek to form.