Monday, January 21, 2008

Simple Pleasures: On Dirty Dishes

A little wooden plaque hung over my Mom’s kitchen sink for years; I don’t know where she got it, or how long she had it. But thirteen years after her death, it still hangs by my kitchen sink, having followed me to every house, apartment, and mobile home we’ve lived in. Entitled "Dishwashing Without... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Simple Pleasures: Of Hot Showers

The virus hit me full blast at work, chasing me home with a horrific headache and aches all over my body. I threw on some pajamas, spent the rest of that day and half of the next in bed. When I woke late in the morning, all I craved was a hot shower. As the water sluiced over me, I thought of how... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

A Walk in the Fog - a poem

Night wraiths on an insubstantial plain we bow to the naked branches and spread our souls in prayer the winding stream a ribbon of smoke winter bare trees lost in upward reaching depth sounds...sounds... terrors without form voices clatter and fade to nothing and we, the dog and I, are only echoes... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Bloom Where You're Planted

Bloom Where You’re Planted (with a nod to William Faulkner) I have seen beauty in unlikely places Smiling Madonna in rust stained brick Morning glory on white sand dune Lilies rising from a stagnant pond - And so I know we will not only endure We will prevail. Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Meditation - Leaving the World Behind

Eyes closed, body straight, breathing slowed. Entering through a hollow tree, I tread down stairs into the darkness of a deep cellar. Thoughts from the world above snag at my soul, trying to ensnare me, trying to hold me in the material world. They are temporal, and un-lasting. They are a tie to the... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Where are You?

Where Are You? Not in the glass and concrete temples, not in the preacher's honeyed words not in childhood prayers whispered when fear strikes in the night; But in the chilling darkness of pre-dawn in the cold clean air that bites the lungs in cramping muscles that force the body to remember itself... Sign in to see full entry.

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