Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, May 31, 2012


WISHBONE

I had my suspicions when the Humvee
muscled me off the on-ramp
and when the bald maitre d’
sat the blonde before me
even though I arrived first.
And then again just yesterday
when my passive-aggressive boss took credit 
for the client I had landed.
But this morning was when I knew
once and for all:
that the whole kit n’ kaboodle
the nine yards
the can of worms
the kettle of fish
the ball of wax
the deck
and the great shebang itself
were rigged
from the git-go.

I knew this when my love,
whom I call Schmuggie,
confessed that the wish she had made
on the wishbone we just played tug-of-war with
was a wish for herself only and not us
and that - and this is the part 
she really felt bad about -
that when she handed me the bone
she knew she’d win - which she did - because
she gave me the brittle end and took
the stronger, sturdier half for herself.
I couldn’t help it, you understand, don’t you?
she said by way of an apology.

Yes, I understand, Schmuggie.
I really do!

Because, despite my own doubt
and my refined sense of cynicism,
I know that the human heart
is a complicated instrument 
prone to its own flights of fancy
like a bird
whose bones protect it
from the power of its own wings –
or in our case, Schmuggie, love
and trust - and too little
wishful thinking.

Thursday, May 24, 2012


MARRY YOURSELF TO THE MIRROR
for Sarah Kerr

A dream has dreamed you all your life –
Carried you in its yellow beak and talons.
Tracked you through snowdrifts, deserts, and streams.
Held you against its thick black fur.
Warmed you in dappled clutches
And in the hollows of ancient oak.
Braided and bathed you
With fire and water, earth and air
Season after season.

Stitched you in and out of time.
Sang your name to the Seven Sisters.
Filled your belly with beets, cabbage and kale.
Dressed your wounds with aloe and clay.
Combed your hair with silver.
Fanned your brilliance with sage, feather and prayer.
Spawned you in rivers where the salmon runs.   
And left you alone in silence to tinker with the balance.

Gave you a glossary and a grammar
That pours through you like sand through an hour glass
That you ply with faith and gratitude
Into curls, swirls and florals
Bead, clay and leather
Wool, velvet and cotton
Wood, wire, and metal.
Until tears stream down your face
And your heart is broken open
By the mystery and the beauty
Your hands have fervently delivered.

This dream has mothered you
Mentored you, suckled you
On story and symbol
Through the phases of the moon and sun
Has shaken and danced you
Rattled and hummed you
For decades, for centuries, forever.

But today she comes to you like a bride
And bends toward your breathing with her breath
And whispers into the labyrinth and ocean of your ear
A message you hear like counsel form a bone
That you will spend the rest of your days deciphering:

Marry yourself to the mirror.
It’s time to spin the wheel.
Live along the bias as singer, weaver, drum.
Do the next thing and only what must be done -
Now and now and now.
There is nothing more to know.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

WITH LOVE

Lay me down, Brother,
In the well of the sun
Dress me in wing and talon

Make me the fulcrum of the flock

River my ears
With the Osprey’s cry
Owl my eyes with the night

Feather my breath with the wind

Eagle my heart
Anoint me with light

Blind me, my friend,
With love.




Thursday, May 10, 2012

GLISTENING

Stretched across the Briones trail
proud, poised and motionless
was of a young snake basking in the sun.
Diamondback or Gardener we did not know.
The lack of a rattle had us guessing.

Why wasn’t he moving? I wondered, out loud.
He must have just molted, left his skin in the grass,
my friend quickly replied
as if he had some insight I did not.

We stood there for a time
watching the raw, sinuous creature
glisten like a muscle in the sun.

Later down the trail
after there was no more oak to shade us
my friend began to tell me of the time
when he was young
and sought out adventure
at every turn
and how one year he took a job
as a nude model
for a life drawing class.

Initially both he and the young artists
were embarrassed by his nakedness.
During breaks, before sipping tea,
making eye contact
or mingling among the students
he would slip back into the thin skin
of the smock the teacher had given him.
Decorum and decency seemed so important then.

But as the class continued
the smock made little to no sense.
I am naked when they’re drawing me
why not when they’re not?
I had nothing left to hide? he said.

So one day he decided
to abandon the little sheath
and the artifice of modesty altogether
and step right out of his clothes
and stay out of them
until the class ended 
three hours later.
Proudly he wore his svelte physique.
This was the way it was, my friend said,
for the rest of the semester
and it was okay for me to just be
the Naked Guy.

He was smiling, as he told this story.
A part of him, I could tell,
was basking in the memory of it –
and nearly glistening.

   



Thursday, May 3, 2012


DOUBLE DELIGHT
for Jay Bunker

there is only and always
the opening

petal
after petal

the doubling of love
and its perfume

the journey
and the healing

the kiss, the candle
the rose

the bodies
casting the circle

and the message
inside the circle

my story’s our story
I travel for us 

that has us
simultaneously see

we are all citizens
of spring

wild, awake 
and aware

of our own 
inflorescence.