Hello All,

I am hosting my first online 

poetry workshop for non-poets. 

It is called 

COME TO YOUR SENSES. 

It will be offered monthly 

beginning Sunday, Mar. 16, at 2pm PST. 

There is limited space, so register earlier!

For more information, please visit this page. 

I hope you can join us!

AMBIENCE

Start here, with this image.

Then, add in a roaring fire,

some Woody Guthrie on the speakers

behind the bar, a few billiard tables

at the other end of the room and 

yards of barren green velvet

looking lost and lonely under

the harsh track lighting. 

Then, see the barkeep

by himself at the bar 

drinking Fernet-Branca

while folding white napkins.

Then, hear him start singing

I Ain’t Got No Home 

In This World Anymore

right along with Woody, 

their voices blending as one. 

I am in this moment,

completely, like a bug in amber.

I am drinking in every last ounce

of this ambience 

as if it were a hazy ale 

on an aimless afternoon.

THE TRANSCRIPTION

I felt like an ant carrying 

three times its body weight in dirt

as it moved toward the hill it was making 

with its colony.

The hill is called Love.

I felt this way because

I was listening to a recorded talk 

about the relationship between 

the Dark Night of the Soul, Love 

and the Infinite Presence of God.

I was so moved by what I was hearing

and by the depth of the talk’s message

that I felt the need to transcribe it

just so I could be closer

to the words being spoken.

Every letter I wrote down 

was like the dirt on the ant’s back.

And yet I had the startling sensation 

that the more I wrote 

the lighter I became

as I moved assiduously

toward the hill of Love.

*I am hosting my first online poetry workshop for non-poets. 

It is called COME TO YOUR SENSES. It will be offered monthly 

beginning Sunday, Mar. 16, at 2pm PST. 

There is limited space, so register earlier!

For more information, please visit this page. I hope you can join us!

MISSING THE MATTER

To grieve for something

That was never there

In the first place

Is to miss missing itself

You can’t erase

A vacuum

By adding 

Emptiness

To it

Twice

 THE RANSOM & THE SEQUEL

What if trust was the ransom

for the thing they believed

was being held hostage?

And, what if they gave it

freely, without the oversized 

black briefcase with the snazzy 

latches, might they then see

that there were no prisoners

or captors in the storyline

they’d been telling themselves

like a made-for-TV crime drama?

And, what if 

all that was really needed 

was a good old fashion heart-to-heart 

parlayed between one and the other 

of them where all suspicion got dropped

so that the strangers they’d become

gave way to the fondness and infatuation

they once felt?

And, what if by magic

they found themselves sitting 

side by side in one of their living rooms

with only truths to tell and tears to shed

and nothing, nothing to negotiate?

Yes, what if trust 

were truly in the room 

and on the table instead of 

all the hype and histrionics 

that so often squawked at them,

could they not then call off the dogs 

and the dragnet and just cuddle up 

on the coach before a roaring fire 

with a glass of red wine

and settle into a mediocre movie

just for old times sake?

And maybe, just maybe, 

as the credits began to roll,

hours later, they'd be willing 

to consider seeing, 

on another night, perhaps,

the romcom’s sappy sequel?