August 3rd, 2007

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Good Morning!!

I feel really well this morning, excitedly so.  I started the final Harry Potter book last night, and entranced, read into the morning, so rising was a bit of a slow, eye-opening dance, but now, I am awake and enthused.  I feel so good!  I suppose it is wonderful to dip into archetype and quest once in a while, deal with the "forces of darkness" with magic words and wands.   Jane and I were thinking this morning that instead of attempting poetry in our time together, we should be writing a children's story, so who knows.   Monday, we begin!   : )

Here is my Morning Flow!   Jane is in a post-workshop let-down, and could not access words, only doubt.  As we know, we go between the highs and lows.   Low tide today for Jane.  High tide for me.   We anchor in different phases of the moon.  


August 3, 2007


Fog again this morning

so thick my world is the nearest trees.

Leaves stir shades of green

like hand-held puppets

in a children’s play.

In this restriction, I see the veins

in the leaves, the tiny berries

not yet plump with juice and red,

designed to entice the winter robins

to drunken revelry where they chomp

and swing from branches in haphazard flight.

This is the time of year

when to pop one blueberry is enough.

Life seen closely

is a boomerang

tossed and let go.

The seasons release,

and return.

The circles hold,

like nesting dolls.  



Harry Potter


Morning tripped like a fairy

opened my eyelids

and peered like a child within.

I was up late reading

of magical lands

and so I am still there

with flying dragons,

wands and words dissolving doors,

transport in and out,

invisible cloaks.

Good must win.  It always does.

There is a quest, a cup,

a girl, two boys,

one romantic, one a brother,

wisdom, pain, friends.

Always, friends.

The point is to gather

and risk with friends.

It is like when the first cell said to another,  “Let’s unite

in a beat of heart”, and so it all began,

the drumming of shared pulse,


flowers, trees,

woman, man. 




“Oh when the Saints Go Marching In”


Is a mantra still with me.

I am surrounded by saints,

everyone around me so good,

even as they struggle with what it is to be human,

with robes tattered and torn,

and yet, those rips and tears are where we see the arms

and legs working, reaching, sharing.

It is where the torso divides,

lifts up and out to walk, feed, hug, wrap.

Unity comes, but first there is a complex being

striving to bring 84,000 cells

into one easy beat.  

Unity: when all we saints

go marching in and out of our skins,

like the slide of trombones,

the sound of the sea,

echoing back and forth,

between shell

and ear.  






This river in me


the Mississippi


utilized in ways

I cannot see.


lift and sink,

open and close.

My heart


the sea.





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Transparency -

Yesterday morning I read the following words of Rod MacIver in Heron Dance and all day I visualized myself as transparent.  There is quite a luxury in that.  It is better than being velvet or gold, transparent.  I intend the same for today.

The other thing about forests that have been left alone is that they are quiet. Yes, there are birds singing and the wind sometimes roars through the leaves and branches, but there is a special deep peace in those woods. If you walk through them long enough, some of that quiet gets absorbed inside. Sharman Apt Russell calls it transparency:

When Nature whispers beauty, I do not always respond well. Feverishly I want to get inside. I bang at the glass. It is so beautiful. It is too beautiful.

Only rarely do I feel calm, equal to the occasion. Then I am, myself, transparent.

May transparency touch your day.

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Harry Potter -

I think what stimulated me on this subject of Harry Potter was seeing children at Squaw carrying their new Harry Potter hardcover books as though they were Bibles, and I realized today they are that, a Bible for children today.  The language is accessible, and the stories are of good and evil, and my sense is that though I'm not to the end of the book, good will triumph.  Perhaps Harry Potter will have to be sacrificed, and there is always resurrection.  She writes archetypal stories in an imaginative way and we are sucked in, and there is some tree root of response.  Ah, connection!  There it is again.  Here is to friends and relatives and all that is love, circulating again and again. 
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Poetry -

Jon Carroll in his column today talks about poetry and specifically the poems Billy Collins choose for the Best American poems of 2006.

Both the book and the column are worth checking out:   Jon Carroll is at: