Other Poetry

For several years I’ve lived in one of Seattle’s legendary floating homes:  a normal full sized house, only floating.  Sometimes it freaks me out:

"Living, for Now, on Lake Union"

 

Beneath my floor: twenty feet of fishes.

 

And beneath them, rusting, rotting wrecks:

    centuries of sunken logs, misplaced flowerpots,

    lost screwdrivers, glasses, wallets, keys,

    abandoned toilets, burned-out barbecues,

    misadventured boats and unwise cats;

 

Dead things, those, though not forever: 

    slow or fast, they go to life again,

    each in its own way...

 

Above my floor: more water,

    collated by bark or pelt or skin

        (—dry boundaries, thin pretense 

            of separation from the Lake...)

    some of it self-conscious, 

    some of it imagining itself more obdurate

    than the junk below.

 

Live things, we, in this water house, though not forever:

    slow or fast, the patient, patient Lake 

        wins us back again.

  

Originally published in Floating Homes Anthology 2021 by Peanut Butter Publishing.

That poem, “Living For Now On Lake Union”, was shortened to 300 words (exactly!) for submission to Seattle’s 2017 “Poetry On Buses” contest, and it won a spot on their web site (though not on an actual bus):

“Twenty Feet of Fishes”

Beneath my floor:  the lake,
    collector, uniter, tomb;
Slow or fast, its temporary dead go to life again.

Above my floor:  more water,
    collated by bark or pelt or skin.
Here we live, dry, in our water house, though not forever;
    slow or fast, the Lake wins us back again.

Miscellaneous Love haiku

Love should be, like, all
hearts and candy, kisses, sighs.
Too bad it's just not.


Rehearsing our lines
when she whispered "I love you"
--what page were we on…??


Love reflects in each,
Reveals in all as wholeness;
Each and all, same Love. 


We sit by our fire,
Sip our cups of licorice tea,
Knit our souls with Grace.


Where does love come from:
heaven? heart? or God? or groin?
None!  Love IS the "where".


This is love to me:
Deep and steadfast faith that I
travel with my soul.

Web Dweller

I've lost my name.  Or haven't found it yet.  Or know it only in a language I can't speak.

I float and soar and weave, in this group, in every group,

   on currents of unseen energy, 

   unsensed, unknown, undescribed,

   impossible -- yet there's my inner life.

Someone smiles, or cries, bursting with love or anguish:  that's Lake Union fireworks finale, accompanied by Strauss!   I inhale life and love from the glowing web embracing us.

   (-no one notices)

Someone complains about their parking ticket, rolling in the pain and smearing it stinking on their face and hair, and ours:  that's screeching brakes and broken needles and losing my balance on the top rung of the high ladder.  I'm mute (not speaking the language), but I struggle to pull the energy threads and tendrils back into honesty and beauty and balance.

   (-no one notices)

A hand strokes, a cat purrs, and I'm breathless with the wonder of the meaning filled strobing fragrance, the unbearable harmony of the live humming room.  I am hand.  I am cat.  I am red red carpet.  I sing, and the web sings!

   (-did someone notice?)

A moment healed.

A moment joined.

A rare, rare moment of recognition, glimpse of unity,

   and there's the whispered echo of my name.

Dedication

To the God of my god
The Presence that cradles time
Love beyond love
Understanding beyond wisdom from all error
Source of the source of my courage
Untouchable health of a healer's healer
Untouchable life of a death
Bliss beyond joy
Life of the life of my life:
I say only
(simply)
Amen!