stillness

bringing the mind to stillness
the body to still rest
the quiet
of calamity
not crashing
around
in this wind
i am just
what there is
to be
here
in the now
of this
just
just
and it is
still

falling all the way

watching
breathing
moving through the day
i notice
there is a stillness
sitting
in the circle
of the center
of my earth
praying
but not for anything
being
its calm, clear, reverberation
of self

early morning poetry

the beep beep beep of warning
comes and goes
wind blows
through the empty
stirring of
caged
beast
riles
children
out of bed
there is something
lurking
in the yes
of this now
and i can not see its face

once upon a time

there was no time
and every beautiful thing
in the world
was of one darkness
and in its boredom
or joy
of possibility
it decided
and in the decision
split itself
one from the other
to form lovers
of the first
and most important
kind
self and its opposite
twining together
a whirled is born
and never stops
whirling
dervish devotion
the only sense
to make
for being
one fractal part
of such
a beautiful
thing

in recognition of a life

i have
colors
threads
in the tapestry
that weave themselves
i sit
beside this one
made of
bone and sinew
synthetic hair
added to his
curls
in longness
not dreaded
yet
but
heading
there
the stories
of his hair
a jack
of spades
underneath his chair
he is
my prince
a boy
belonging
only
to this
moment
of grass weave
and chair
we share
the table
of this
dream
as if
there were no more
spinning
but
in, around and through
there are
there are

i manage
a hundred storylines
here at this table
i continue
continuing
on and on
this moment
tells itself
he
and me
with him
in the other room
and she
asleep
and the other
working
at the
store
of dollars
for dollars
too few
to
move

a single ant walks its path found in the wood grain
of fallen remnants
dead brothers
hover in spotted bits
of not yet buried
hair
hers
comingle
with the
not yet
swept away

formless nests

are forming
all the time
from barren
grasses
plucked
through
the eyes
that fly
overhead
saying
this one will do nicely
and shoving it
into
the nest
of comfort
that brings
forth
the future
of
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

here

in the sun
a blue bowl
with remnants
of silk
soymilk
pink handle
spoon
jutting out
in jousting motion
at the box of
more
i drink the scene
of boy returning
learning
on-line
spanish
doing
homework
alongside
his
poetic
mother
we are both
drinking
each other
a little
bit
in