Poetry. Words. Visual Poetry. Body Language and Movement … Say “moon.” Feel your mouth curve. Breathe. Sometimes Breathing Feels Like Dancing. Sometimes Dancing Feels Like Breathing. These days, in gratitude, I Feel Like Dancing and Breathing. Namaste´
did not have to go far today
to see a sudden burst of flight.
frost birds rise, startled,
in the dimming afternoon.
I recently finished “Luke’s Dream.” My sister, Kat and her husband, Jerry, commissioned me to make a mixed media painting to remind them of their sweet rottweiler, Luke, and their sailboat, the Splendid Mane. It was really lovely to be able to deliver it to my sister in person and to see her reaction to it.
waiting like a fisher in a sea of air,
she casts her net, spinning silks
and delicate knots
One of my all time favorite poems is by e.e.cummings, a poem I first read when I was 14 years old, living in Virginia. My dad introduced me to e.e.cummings. Throughout my spiritual journey, from Catholicism to Buddhism, to exploring other Christian faith communities and finally finding my spiritual home in Huichol Shamanism, e.e.cumming’s poet-mystic vision rings true to my heart.
washing the mountain dust from our bags,
I hang them to dry in the same sun that shines
on Mt. Shasta and on the Huichol village
like lines of a poem, tendrils, stems
and seeds of a hitchhiker weed
twist, turn and stick in my memory<
like notes scattered
across a sheet of music
waterfowl float on a curtain of dusk