Sea of Green

Salmon swim loops

between you and me

through the river flowing,

dreaming us back to our home

where we meet before dawn,

one source, one being

one song.

Ask Again

Listen, breathe, taste rosehips,

blackberries, submerge yourself in cold

water, run until you drop: sweat,

pant, then just lie there looking at the sky.

Can you see the river splashing before

your eyes? Listen and you will hear

everyone talking at once.  Do you know

what He meant when He called you?


Dearest Father

Keeping the river in mind

I swim to you through

time and across the miles

to tell you I’ve never forgotten

you. And I’m so grateful for

your tutelage—even though

I grew up with a different father.

I heard what you said coming along

the river, words clear as mountain

sky. I love you  so, dearest father.

The River

The soup between us is colorless and it’s thought to be

liquid, but it could be energy or some mercurial substance

we haven’t discovered yet. It’s warm and cold depending

on outside configurations of clouds and wind and moisture—

but basically it’s without temperature or solidity or liquidity.

The soup between us has no taste—unless the dairy farm’s

nearby or the lumberyard—a dirty clothes hamper, but still

that’s not it. It’s not the transmitter we call “the soup” for lack

of a better name. Well, perhaps the river that connects up all.

The river, yes–that’s it. “The river.”

It’s Long Into It

They say toads are the first to go

then the fields and streams, ice

and fresh air to breath, our furry

friends and the flying ones, too.

Between you and me, send out

a pure line of white light; string

upon it what you love the most—

my guess is all of it. Then prepare

to fortify the web of life against

degradation, against the odds.

100th Monkey Soup

Today I changed something about my behavior and a friend did as well. We gawked at each other in amazement. No more washing potatoes at the stream but now altering our DNA.  Gone sickle cell anemia or Huntington’s disease.  It’s tight, this circuit of lines running between you and me.  Discover the code, ready to stand before the new world.




The cat curls into a ball

as does the dog. We pull our

knees to our chest—turning

inward, traveling in time back

to womb when everything

was copasetic—now we’re

blind with brilliance expanding

into the open –our next stage

of evolution? Light streams

from billions of cells like stars

in our galaxy.




Light grows like weeds

in and out—swift slips

inside dark recesses, cracks

cave to brillance.

Far off in the universe,

dust and wind wash

away turbulence—all unseen.

Still, we chill down our spines,

turn to reach another,


Tidal Plane

Like a delta, space empties

and opens into the sea between.

our bodies–converging, swaying

and parting; fluid feelings beneath

the skin and cells—thoughts wired

as one grid. Vast as universe, tiny

as mushroom minutia—

a message system between all.