THE ROPE

What I hold on to

that keeps me climbing,

prevents me from falling,

and leaves me dangling

somewhere in between.

Taught attention.

A false sense of

discipline.

The grip I bring

to anything

I grasp at.

The braid and strand.

 The binding 

that tethers will

to way—

twists obstinance 
into being.

Cordage
made of fear.

The hauling and the lifting.
The busywork
that distracts and ensnares,
and, for the life of me, 
I can't let go of.

BRETHREN

An oddity of nature.

Standing in a stand of giants.

Frosted in an unreal glow, a dull glaze

that could be faux snow

or sunlight’s dappled brushwork,

but is not. An albino

redwood, a dwarf tree,

is what’s there—a startling 

anomaly in this forest.

Does it think: I am not

like the others,

grand and evergreen?

It does not.

It is simply a tree among trees.

A brother among brethren.

Nature has so much to teach us
about how to be with ourselves
and our own kind.

MUSK

Story permeates our beings,

our very bodies.

In other words: how we

hold and carry ourselves

in the world

is no small matter.

What we tell ourselves

about ourselves

is an attitude, an air  

we wear like a musk.

It is in us, on us, and all around us.

It perfumes everything and everyone

we come close to.

It is how we attract what we attract

and repel what we repel.

If we remain suffused

in our state of nonchalance

we might as well go about our business

like skunks in the night,

scavenging for our next meager meal,

while the dark keeps getting darker.

WINDOWS

There are worlds within worlds.

Just peer into the leafy shell

of an abutilon

and you will see

a kaleidoscope of patterns and textures

and perhaps a shade of green

you have never seen before.

In this moment this flower

will seem more like

the glass work in Chartres

than a blossom in a nursery in Albany, CA.

The truth is: both are

wonders of the world, windows

touched by heavenly light.

RIPPLES

If you really

listen to me

I will hear

what I have

to say

in what

I am saying.

I mean, really

hear it.

I mean, what

I say will arise

out of hearing

you hear me.

Like the pebble

that becomes

the ripples

in the pond.

SHARING

Let’s pass the hint of a sliver

between us.

Which is to say:

let’s be in time

together, the world

together,

as it waxes and wanes

from day to night,

as it cycles through its phases

squinting at us

as we squint back.

This is what sharing

looks like:

a movement from

cradle to crescent,

from I to we,

toward an alignment

that keeps deepening and repeating.

BLACK ON BLACK

There are shadows everywhere.

What we need is more light.

So don’t dress in black

and be the one

moving the props

about the stage unseen

before the play begins

and during intermission,

so some other actor

gets to take center stage

while you go unnoticed.

Do not blend

into the background,

fade into black

and call that your time

on stage. Don’t.

Own the stage

with your own soliloquies.

Leave audiences

illuminated with your illumination

and wanting more,

from you,

but most of all

from themselves.