Doing what has

to be done

has been the iron rule

of my life

but I wonder

at times

if iron ever breaks


with no warning

and the pieces


the long long way

to the ground

I had an invitation

I received my invitation

to be opened at the show

all the time I was preparing

but I didn’t know

when I went into the ring

they were watching row by row

then they came out punching

and I took it blow by blow

I thought I should protect myself

but where else could I go

I had an invitation

but I didn’t know

Peaceful sleep

The journey into peaceful sleep

passes through the garden

of thorns

you can make yourself

very small

and dodge this way and that

and pass right by those thorns

of thought

another way is to make yourself

so opaque

you pass right through them

and they never know

you were there

or you could make yourself

so light

you fly high up over

that garden

you might wonder what that is

way down there



What can be unthreaded

has begun to perish


the pieces are not the whole

without the thought of one


there is always a flaw

between skin and bone


nails do not hold wood

split from top to bottom


stir the brew and drink the froth

it has your name on it

Hint of dawn

The first hint of dawn

a subtle change in light

darkness gradually pulls back

there is no conflict

the planet is turning

A way to joy

The pathway through the forests

of my heart

has many twists and bends

in places it is narrow

and the ground has rocks and roots

but the soil is soft and rich

when you find the springy path

beside the gurgling waters

of my joy

the sounds and smells invite you

jump right in

the taste is cool and sweet

the rare one who finds themselves here

cannot help smiling

The magic carpet

My magic carpet tonight

was rumpled and yellow

it didn’t take me very far

I couldn’t even get out

of the dreamy bathroom

the stars will have to wait

for another day

then we’ll fly across the sky

with piercing soft eyes

barefoot and wrapped

in my favourite green towel


I have been

throwing pebbles

into the pond

in an attempt

to communicate with you

no response so far

I am about to conclude

you are not at the bottom

of the pond

maybe one more toss

Rose petals

Another visit

from my old friend


he brings a gift

of rose petals on the ground

I have been so concerned

about rose petals

on the ground

a reminder of the beauty

of the end of things

the jagged line across worn fabric

frayed at the edge of age


If something isn’t working

and you try

seventeen more times

thats ´┐╝enough