
Vermiculite of Existence
Just tear the bag open
Avoid the dust
Dump it in
Throw in some broken stone
But don’t forget a big bag of vermiculite
The cement mixer turns
Pick up the hose
Turn on the cold water
Permeate the dryness
But no slushing around
Find the perfect mix
Now let it solidify
Ahhhhhhh
Finally a foundation
Now wait,
Wait for the lightness to emerge.
Until The Final Curtain
When life gets in the way
We begin again.
So I cleaned out my studio
Swept away some bad ideas
Put the old self in the trash
And dusted off what remains
Hoping the rest is still functional.
Onward, I say.
It’s not over yet.
January, 2018
Thus Have I Hear
Talking to her hallucinations
While sitting
Peacefully.
Back straight.
Eyes starring into empty space.
The old, blind,
Woman,
my mother
Breaths out…
SHUT UP!
SHUT UP!
Who said you could be in my dream.
Meditation Retreat
Colorado, October, 2017
When Mother’s Die
There is a space between
the world outside
and the sadness within my heart.
When mother’s die
there is no replacement.
Time moves like a pendulum,
Forward and back
and then forward.
Back to memories
Gait forward
Back to strange shadows
Pressing maybes
Then forward to answer the phone.
Trying again to not be pulled back
I light a candle.
Mother Teresa said,
“Be faithful in small things,
because it is in them
that your strength lies.”
That sums it up pretty good,
That was my mother.
That is how she lived her life.
August 18, 2017

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