THE VALLEY OF ELAH

There is something to be said

for keeping our distance.

It worked for David

and his slingshot.

It’s what made felling

Goliath possible—

who, incidentally, came

ill-equipped and over-dressed

to the Valley of Elah. Distance

is a great teacher.

It gives us pause, the chance

to take a breath. Then,

awake again to all our senses,
we come to whatever

battle is before us
with the clarity and precision,

the courage, faith and strength,
to slay any foe, ugly and armored,

like we would an ogre blinded

by his own fable.

SHELTER IN PLACE

There is no

disease here.

No panic.

No fear.

Its pantry is full.

This lily is fine

to shelter

in place.

As long as

there is

sunlight and

earth beneath

its ivory

shealth—

and love,

most of all,

in the hearts

of passers-by.

WHERE TENDON MEETS BONE

I am forever looking

for just the right

insertion point—

the enthesis—where

tendon meets bone.

The physiologist in me

wants to bring us here,

to this place

of emotion without

motion

attachment without

attachment.

I want us to root ourselves

to this ground,

to the fiber and tissue of

this moment

and stay here

without having

to muscle our way

into anything

but the texture

of Now.

THE SHAKEDOWN

It all came back

when I wrapped my lips

around the rim of the straw.

The Ground Cow, in Auburn, CA.

The roadside burger palace 
my parents would stop at

on our way to Lake Tahoe.

And how, as a boy, I would order,

with my burger and fries,

a vanilla milkshake.

The shake would arrive—a meal

unto itself—in the 30 oz.

stainless steel mixing cup.

It was so thick

that no amount of sucking brought

ice cream to my lips. 
And yet I sucked anyway.

So hard, in fact, I thought

that if I wasn’t careful

I’d suck myself right down 

the straw and into 

the creamy swamp 

of the shake itself.

Back then, my imagination was

so potent and had such a pull,

that just thinking something

nearly made it so.