NASA Image of the Day

Saturday, May 25, 2013


In a snap of winter ice, spring pauses, sigh hand bracing,
And breathes a last thought of frozen Past.

Like all Fire and Ice moments, it is enough to live it, knowing.

...and I, harbinger of its Fears and Flames, Snaps and Snows, Ice Sleeps and Sorrows,
Speak the language of
Fierce eyes in the
Drawing in my breath,

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Mother .....and her day.

What if I am a rib? I would have you think of me as more than mere cage.
Even if I am only one, then - and only, now, understood, of this tree and rock and shale and sky, schooled - I nurture, still;
Tending to my wounds, scar upon scar, star upon star, standing sentinel,
The milk of my tears is mixed with blood and carbon, trying, trying, trying.....
Mixed and mean, unexpectedly kind, swift and salient......vessel, and vassal, and voice.
I am blamed, blameless, and burdened, and bear it, fiercely.
I am the dignity of all tried and true.
I see the smaller selves, ardent and searching, bird mouths, eyes closed, and flying;
Homing and corded, invisible threads of my heart, riding upon air and thought and hopes.
I remember the moments of their forming; the breathed and breathed into; the sigh, and the met, rounded;
I feel again, water's rhythm, forming, and joining, swimming into themselves, and each other, beautifully;
Endless dance of completed,
Exquisite pain, forgotten;
Replete and joyous, in the
I am now, and ago, and, though bereft of more of me, in these cyclical days of ending and passing through,
Dreaming, still,
of my

Monday, May 6, 2013


We hide our appetites, embarassed into denial,
Age mocking our knowledge of our slow demise.
Screaming against the passage of Time, we politely acknowledge the minutes and moments
As they glance at us, through us, amidst us,
And we are ignited with the recognition of
Life, unextinguished.
I would have lived many such selves as were given to me, kindly,
If only I had spent a fraction of the lost levees
Upon a soul that truly loved
My fierceness.
And what is love? To know, to see, to feel, to quench an appetite;
To slake and forgive it; to stoke and stroke it into being,
Relaxed in its glow, secret and sighing in its Adoring;
Having known it as
Expressed and Closed,
At last.


Wish away these baser things, in this modern age.
Witness the blossoming of my mind, expanding amidst all the horizons of sky travelled,
And see, whisked and wandering, stroked forearms, cilia springing, creating.
Awakened thusly, amidst seasons of springtime flushed and floundering,
Awkward youth remembering,
Renewal scoffs at all that is cruel in this life,
And, mocking flesh and numbered past,
I am reminded of when I sought spring.
Oh, that I had once thought no one wanted my self self's to scream silently of living!
Ragged whispers imagined, all the appetites of carbon dating stressed tools notwithstanding,
I defy Time.


I am blocked by distance;
Voided by the chasm of miles;
Starved by the absence of your mouth,
Speaking my name.

In the life of "Ahead", I am Captain, Still,
Manoevering the valueless ticks of Time
Which I see as small flits of Light and Life
Buoyed by my Heart.

Spent thus, it is a Cadence Clear, which,Steered so,
is the syllabus of syllables, sounding clearly;
And each note and sound are
My Eyes,

Sunday, May 5, 2013

To Be Loved

What has this life demanded of us,
That we cannot recognize, in an instant,
When ourselves are ourselves, again, met?
It happens, despite death - perhaps because of it,
Knowing that that word - death - is one we have made,
Mocking that which made us, even beyond ourselves,
Being more than ourselves, having Promised.
We can only breathe, and touch, thinking;
Or, barring that, or beyond that, speak to the other;
Sing to the other;
Form words for the other;
So that they speak as we would have them speak,
Having formed the answers in our heads
A thousand, thousand times.
Then, robbed of the corporeal enclosures of each other, for the moment,
We are simply
Thought of, and Known
We weep, and smile, refreshed; aggrieved, relieved.....perceived.
It is then we understand the dust, blown into Being, at last, from Love.
Oh, Love, Love!
What a love, needing more!
What a song, and a Joy, and a sudden calm!
It is rare, when we know vessel, are of Vessel, perceive Vassal, are of a Cup,
and yet, can be, and Be, and .....exist.
Filled with this Sense, we are calm, and Fierce, and loved
In the mists of uncertainty which cloud the forlorn and angry,
Having known nothing beyond
Atom, given its moments with great Care, and treasuring them in this Life, as never before.

Imagining "Let there Be"...and we, too imagine Lights and Love.

Incandescent rumble, rhythm of life, shaking, shaking, shaking
Yet in the foundations of self, knowing the moment
Perception Thought
that is Being, and
Fearing Not.
How so? whene'er air, within, without, in large space clearing forth
Clouded cloud, shaking moves anew
Being, renewing

Oh the cloudless, blameless Sky,
We see such a huge canvas, and
Marvel at the
Greatest Artist,
Moving Heav'n and Atom
in such a mold
Beyond Hands,
Thought of.
We can only think of carboned made, but know, still. It is Enough....for now. 
Breath has moved it,
Gently reminding - not awkward facsimiles of enormous effort.

See! and See! and See!
Only Imagined.....
This is Joy.
Oh, mind mine! What manner of evil shall take it from Me,
Says I.....says I's own, too, and then, to wound Us further,
promising nothing but
Envy at
Ah, no matter....they matter, and it is enough.
Again....sing into now, again.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Paint and Petals

Today is a new day.
When the bird song reminds me of the hour, I will think it, again;
Think of new thoughts; dream of new dreams;
Speak and sing a world away, but present, and bring our secret moment world closer to the heart that dreamed it,

I shall build in mind a thousand, thousand petalled lights, so that they shine with such a gleam
Your eyes will catch their glimmer, and glow, warmed, and earnest.

My fierce garden of new lights, gleaming, will grow, and grow, and your gaze will
Make a thousand flowers, newly nestled, strive to bloom,
Seeing in them, my wave, and my wander,
Scattering errant beauty like some wild and wooly
Monet of Emily Carr, on fire,