Poem: Until


where my skin rubs against

the surrounding particles

of the long dead others

and also

silent trapped thoughts

running fingers down

my nakedness

They absorb

into my open pores

and seep into the recesses

those closed in spaces

in between the cells

and shackled together

by this fleshy scarred coat

It chills

and pulls taut

over bones and blood

stretched to breaking

by times passing

This living hull

scratched and worn


until the day

it joins

the earth




Cosmic Birth

She walked into the crystalline night below an inky sky her thoughts following her like giant insects who come out only when old furniture is moved. The apparitions that stalked her, breathing their hot voices close to her ears, were ever present. It was like the dead air sound inside her head when the pressure gets too much; or maybe someone just over the other side was reaching out, trying to say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A rushing, like the blood in her veins, pushing and pulsing. They follow her, so very near.

Where was she going? And where had she just been? The night air felt like a slap, but it was a sting of stars blasting her awake.  Had she been asleep? Walking through her life, but not conscious. Faces, distorted with mouths that spoke at her, trying to swallow her and eat what she was, would swim out of the darkness, grinning. Often, she would find herself in a place she wouldn’t recognize, naked and unaware how she had gotten there. Just like on this stark night.

The mirrored hall of reality was a twisted place. It’s maze of unending pathways looking back upon itself reflected nothing and everything. Where did she start or end? The mystery of the beginning was unknown. So, she would keep moving because stopping would mean pain. The grace of fluidity kept her whole, in one piece, so she wouldn’t shatter into a million shards and fly off into the universe.

It was understood that this was a lonely place. The voices may speak, but they would never hear.  She would always walk alone on roadways unfamiliar and distant from where she knew she belonged. There would be a mist that would drift in around her and hold her like a baby, clouding the world around her and making the edges soft. But this made others wary of her, because when she stepped out of the fog, she saw with great clarity and knew when the others weren’t true. And this made her different.

So, it kept her walking; away from it all. It kept her separate, even though the voices followed. She kept going forward, step by step. The ghosts floated close by, but the cool, authentic air as she walked kept her present.

And as she walked, her head tilted toward the dotted evening sky. She thought about the stars, planets and the universes. Mostly about eternity. How it all stretches out on and on. It started before her and will go on after she is long gone. And how she is following its call back home.

Poem: Walking In Dawn

Dark walking

with chilled breath

blowing ghostly visitation

while chilled bones

slowly warm

Shadow halos

stretch quiet in the glow

slapping footfalls

counting distances unknown

Sleeping houses

passing by

may be saving shelter

should fears come alive

And sun starts to rise

grasping at sliver moon

dangling in the gray sky

tendrils of yellow reaching up

making moon vanish

Now lone mockingbird

is joined by a chorus

Dawn has been

walked awake





Poem: 17

One more sick

abandoned child

take Lucifer’s hand

and go Heaven up

to rain down wild

with hate no heart

Your Mother left dark

Father a hole

nothing you took

would fill your soul

The world now turns

17 lighter

Shattered and sadness

killing the gladness

Add to the countless

that suffer their fate

The spirits gather round

holy disquieting gate

for they wait

in bloodless shock

as the next enter

their flock





Poem: Chains

Years a slave

finally walking free

mud-caked down dirty shoes

dragging home

Will the soul ever sing on key

after bent down beat work

freedom is loaded

heavy with ropes

pulling on out

but ever tying

things tight low hopes

Forty years in Penitentiary

then hitting the street

smelling the air of


Bars and walls now left behind

the etching of punish

carved carefully through time

The binding gavels

final thud to close

the pathways forward

And words and words

to wound and cut

much bloodier than what

a gun can shoot

Inside the body disappears

until  it seems to be

just hollow fears

Fly away or gather others

yet sounds still linger close

will any time

seem anew

and recapture the ghost

Slave, prisoner and abused

can liberate some day

and wanna walk hard away

from hellish past

with head up and

chains left in a rusting mass


Poem: Speak Sweet

His words then

ring ring

true today

the voice that

speaks sweet

only time can solve race injustice

some said to him

It has not

Black ghost

talking before us



in winters of delay

When will The Dream come true?

destinies of Negro and White man tied together

Rip the bonds of inequality

and weave nets strong enough

to catch us all

as we come together

through time


Note: I am spending today listening to Martin Luther King Jr speeches, especially some I have never heard before. The words in italics are his.


I saw a ghost on my way into work this morning.  It was a pretty good day–it was ‘stay at home and work out’ morning. This involves doing my yoga and walking dogs and whatever else I decide to do now that it’s getting colder. Usually I leave really early and swim my mile after walking dogs. But I’ve decided four days a week of swimming is plenty and I wanted a change in routine. So now I break up my week with Wednesday being my home workout day.

So I was feeling all yoga’d out–mellow and serene. It was cool, but bright and crisp. I was listening to a quiet CD when I looked up at a car coming towards me when I saw a ghost driving a car! Let me explain.

Last year I lost a very dear friend to breast cancer. I’ve written about her here numerous times. She was one of my first EMT mentors, a mother of 11 children, humble, lovely, kind, quiet and competent. When she received her diagnosis she had just started nursing school. She didn’t tell people in her ambulance service until she began her treatments and it became obvious. And she courageously fought and finished her degree, but never practiced.

Needless to say she would have been an amazing nurse. The kind we rarely see these days. Partly because she was a natural caregiver, but also because she had life experience and she truly wanted to help. It was in her soul to be kind.

And I’m driving down the road and there’s my friend, behind the wheel: smiling the same unassuming smile she always had, hair parted and behind her ears like we had in the 70’s, with the sun beaming down on her face! My heart just jumped!

To top it off, today I was planning to teach CPR to the nurse from our local factory. She also is a lovely and gentle woman. Soft spoken and helpful, always there on the calls for service when we come to help. I called her house to set up the time for her CPR recert, but her husband told me she wasn’t home because she was getting radiation. I was stunned! He told me they had discovered breast cancer.

When I spoke to her, she informed me that in March she went for a routine mammo and they found two lumps. They were both removed and she was lucky. She only needed radiation and no chemo. But still…is that really lucky? Compared to what? But thank goodness she went for her routine one!

Was my friend trying to tell me something? Was she just telling me not to forget? Her? Exams? To enjoy life? I just walked a race in her honor. I never will forget her. In the Jewish religion they say every time you speak a dead person’s name then they are still alive. Well if you see them, then I guess they still are too!