Dissecting a Cloud

No words, saved up thoughts
Can answer true –
Only tiptoe around
The most obvious truth
Yet never set foot on that ground –
Dissecting a cloud
And finding nothing in his hands
The scholar despairs
Yet it is self-evident I stood the sternest test
Without the need for thoughts, or words
Or rather they took their places as servants
To greater cause
Before the event they fell over each other
To show me the way
And so I erred and stumbled
Or worried about stumbling and so fell
Until the moment came for the test
And eyes fixed ahead, thoughts had no choice
But to follow the narrow avenue offered them
And under sweat and toil a thoughtless place was born
A simple switch of focus and hysteria became calm
Instinct took over and honesty –
Without compromise for bending truths
Or looking one’s best
Showed them all what I could do, and cannot
And being the best that I could be
Who would not be happy with that?
When the road unplanned offers up such un-guessed at wonders
Such gifts not wrought by my hands
And you few who understand these words
Can share the joke
That I have no other way to tell this story
But with words!
So off with you, no more philosophies
And see this place for yourself


No Mistakes

Why do we think we make mistakes?
What is a mistake other than the thought that ‘what is’ should not be?
But ‘it’ is!
Does the rain fall in the wrong place;
Do birds sing the wrong tune;
Do we not stumble and end up in just the right place because of it?


Poetry, a butterfly’s wings
A delicate supposition, neither here nor there
Hinting at more than can be said
Places these words might take you
But look too closely and you’ll fall
To where nothing has any meaning at all


Poetry is like psychoanalysing yourself,
You don’t always want to share what comes out,
But you can’t write as well if you fake it.

Deep Time

Deep time, still time, silent time.
Where the echo of our lives
beats a distant drum,
barely heard now, over the drip, drip,
sigh of wind and steady rhythm of the earth.
Here I’m home and here I’m found.
Never before have I known the joy
of silent mind, enclosing all,
and only here, but it’s ever here,
Where I’m home and where I’m found.

A Thanks to Ray Bradbury

Though our fires burn apart,
A spark from yours lit mine
To fill the dark heavens,
With flames of joy and tiny angels,
To drift on night winds and perhaps,
Find timber dry enough to light,
Some other poor wretch’s life

And so I give you thanks dear Ray,
And offer your name upon these same winds
Hoping against hope it will find its way home.

I wrote this in January, 2010, but it seems most fitting to publish it now.
My thoughts go to the family of this great man, who passed away last night.
I wouldn’t be me without you Ray, I’ll never forget the nights I spent reading your words, looking up at the stars, and dreaming…Thank you.


When we move, not randomly, but by necessity,
We move most powerfully,
Feel most freely,
And are at the peak of true creativity.


Time; a sleeping horse, who runs no more,
A tree that grows green shoots no more;
Only weather beaten cliff and sandy desert remain
To speak of adventures we once enjoyed,
And twinkling stars that mock still,
Our impermanence.

Playing Dice

So many lives
Spin through imagination,
Possibilities of which I have but one to live,
In this I find inconsolable sadness-
But also hope.
For I’ll never know which of these many worlds
Will be my adventure,
So let’s play dice
With god,
Even if he knows all the answers-
I don’t
And that’s just the way it should be.

Life without a Script

To watch is not to control,
Influence is not pulling back one hand-
With the other,
But watching the stivings
Of the man you thought you were,
Till they cease,
Then watching on in wonder-
At what comes next;
Life without a script
And no starring character.

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