elevate what Paper Poetry’s about,
patiently coach, guide
from the inside
With these two,
like a river’s water bestowing -
they will go with your flowing.
It’s a collaboration,
a supportive examination,
of what wants to be birthed,
then bathing away what isn’t worth
Thank you to Indubala, the moon’s reflection,
the dancing light’s upward direction,
and Carolyn, of joy, happiness, strength connection,
editors, writers, lovers of the Unknowable
they bring out the beauty of your literary complexion.
I tried not to cry but finally let myself as I was leaving Adobe Hills three days ago. Savannah, the owner, showed me that her cat Meow had found her way into my car and was sitting on the sheet covering my bags. Later Savannah told me the dog Barney was crying as I left so I went back and gave him strong pets and encouraging words.
I’m wanting to share some things that caught my eye/wonder while I was n the Sierra Nevada foothills. Perhaps you will see why leaving was so sad. …
A writer, mama,
has painful lipedema.
Helping shares promise.
“If I could give you one thought, it would be to lift someone up. Lift a stranger up — lift her up. I would ask you, mother and father, brother and sister, lovers, mother and daughter, father and son, lift someone. The very idea of lifting someone up will lift you, as well.” — Maya Angelou (quote found on article by Jocelyn Soriano)
Our fellow writer Shannon Ashley needs a surgery for lipedema. …
For what occasion
doth I wake midst dream
to prayers of little
children and families?
Above her head
the new couple’s
No one can take a
photo close up.
What lies behind
the couple’s kiss
resound there with prayers
in the valley.
“Kindle the fire of love,”
aunts, uncles, family,
“and burn away all things,
then set thy foot
into the land
of the lovers.”
the ears hear
the pell of
of the choir
why you were
In a fantasy visualization, on June 24, the day of the full moon, I saw Dr. Cyril, the telepathic bird on the black rail outside.the kitchen. I was supposed to have decided, per the semi-fictional story in “Adobe Hills 5” which topic, among several bothering me, to bring to a nine-minute therapy session with him.
I wait upon the pause,
the sentence in the Divine Writings
that stops my reading,
stops my breathing
like this one this dawn:
“The Spirit of truth is soaring
on the Supreme Apex, like unto a bird,
in order that it may discover
a severed heart
and alight therein and make its nest.”¹
This one leans me forward.
Will this heart
be one where
the bird of Truth
might alight, make a nest?
Will the spark within, this dawn,
catch fire by Spirit, draining
ego, funneling me into severance?
An oft self-focused poet,
I pen so my soul
My box is full of your notes
and those of every person who studied
with a pyramid of people
taught to persuade people through
persevering, blaring emails,
to serve wealthy people
so you make more money.
I admire your hard work, but stop it!
I do not know you,
I do not know what you sell.
I might miss something crucial
to illumine my life path
but I’m deleting 50 notes
you sent me, a stranger,
a person you have no time to meet,
or call by name, except by list on Mail Chimp. …
There are some strange and beautiful things that have happened while I’ve been in the Sierras.
Maybe this has happened to you….probably. The outside world seems to present reflections of what’s going on inside.
Two or three personal examples: A couple of weeks ago I was in the kitchen, after an email conflict with a friend when two quite large, thick-legged bugs appeared on the floor.
The first one was quick to dart under the dishwasher, he/she/it came out later and I was able to escort both out. …
You are love, writing in rays of sunsets you breathe, in
magical early morning shifting light that promises new days in more than welcoming arms, like a huge surprise bundle swayed over Creation with
drops everywhere by the Stork, for that day, in colors and cool breezes,
the Ultimate Packager, reminding that Grandfather, Essence, Source is here, always, in rhythm, steady as heart-beat.
Today you were hurt. It didn’t go well. You made mistakes. …
Goal: Ignite your heart, soul, and laughter with humorous, spiritual, psychologically healing stories informed by service as a clinical social worker 30 years.