Emerald Forest

At dawn, I slip into the emerald forest.

Giant fronds sway, ferns prickle,

Moss hovers.  I step gently into the

blue lagoon, cranes bathing, 

dragonflies undulating

upon the face of the deep.

In the emerald forest,

I lay down my sword and shield. I

notice what appears, what surfaces.

How tiny flowers pirouette in the breeze,

I lay down my heavy burden

and let the heart dance.

Be the Bee

Be the bee, 

fly to the flower within and

drink, drink, drink of her nectar.

Be grateful

for even a teeny tiny flower,

even a teeny tiny flower
has much nectar.

The flower offers her gift

especially for you,

her nectar of peace, of joy, 

Everything is easy

once you understand.

Remember this existence,

not the things that you do,

but this breath,

for it is your blessing.

Madrid Metro

A slice of the old world before Isabella,
before three ships, before the Inquisition,
downcast eyes, stoic faces, haunted El Grecos.

Three men from Tangiers, a woman in silk,
a guitarist who knew Segovia,
a flamenco dancer, a chubby girl,
with her grandfather, men in jeans, wide belts.

A slice of the old world before Isabella,
before three ships, before the Inquisition,
downcast eyes, stoic faces, haunted El Grecos.

Amaroo

Refuges seeking asylum, we came
to the light of her southern hemisphere
seeking what all seekers seek, a sliver
of joy in an oft desolate orb, and

She welcomed us graciously, spaciously,
how the cuckabera laughed at dawn, how
magpies hip hopped o're the natty grass,
how wallabies stared at us, then leapt to
thickets where frogs croaked a steady tune.

She accepted us graciously, spaciously,
with breeze, fragrance, warmth, with
her southern light, with her promise of
stillness, with her unbridled beauty.

Like A Running Stream

God gives and God takes away,
and dust returns to dust, but
the words of my Guru linger

like a running stream.
surging and resurging,
turning and returning,

like a running stream
bounding and rebounding
tuning the taut strings of my heart,

murmuring, whispering,
singing to me, as my
days, hours, moments flow by.

Inspired by Primo Levy

Why is this night different from all other nights?
because on this night, we’re kids out past dusk, 

stars zigzag across the sky like marbles,
jugglers toss tangerines, eggplants dance in the streets.

Giant sequoias uproot themselves,

trudge across the tundra to Vladivostock.

those murdered in mass graves assemble themselves.

The sun cries tears of gold, the moon tears of diamonds,

all who mourn are gladdened, all who hunger come to feast,

Elijah descends from his chariot and sips of our wine.

Pharaoh’s heart is softened, and for moments,

all is possible, nothing impossible, we rejoice.