Coyote Soul

Disco Styx

2010-12-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

there was an angel
then there was a star, a spinning ball of light
and the mist of night descended with love
with a cool love and a pulsating rhythm
angels sounded the trumpets as we hustled to the street
grooving to a familiar vibe
knowing what we really loved was how we moved

I'm so old someone shouted
keep dancing the night replied as we lined the street
and down the middle each moved in turn
celebrating a life and

whoa........

....lou rawls was presiding!

he stood there under the stars, smiling so cool,
as the velvet tones of his voice broke the news
that we were going to miss his loving.
hands clapping
side stepping down that line,
swaying our hips and arms to the beat
we knew he was true
and to the sweet mystic rhythm of disco
we gladly danced
forever

Maypole

2010-11-06T11:17:00.000-07:00

Oh

round about the ribbons
lost in thought i go
the best provide
as this life should
for those i do not know

the joy i feel the love
the love
the love
not god
but from my monstrance heart

beating red and flowing
from my fingers
love and knowing

that ever more
round elephant
or kisses for the flea
the lace of love embracing
twirls

not god
not god
but love
just love
for thee

Oh

Reconciling

2010-09-19T19:34:00.000-07:00

everything in memory is either this way
or that
good or bad
happy
sad
clear or hardly there
I pull from my past
reaching deep into the murk
and marbled slew
grabbing at bits and bites

it’s like a soup i tell you
soup
thick and old country
roiling
savoring the smell
so soon or far from the happening
i blow on the spoon and scrunch my eyes as i slurp
relishing the questions from my childhood

it tastes so good now
less filling

Curtain Call

2010-05-07T21:33:00.000-07:00

orange red black golden
bubbling up
a craggy caldron
veiled in hot vapor darkness
and unmeasured time

nothing else out there
but other caldrons
simmering
not as hot
not as large
not enveloped in the swirling
just right mix
of gas fire
and elemental spice

who knew of our beginnings
measured in eons

or
one mighty touch

the work of unknowable forces

or
one to many gods

this beginning
of desolation molten rock
flaming meteors hitting oceans with a hiss

or
dark star peppered day by day creation
ordered and made ready
just for us
by him

the flames extinguished
cooling
mixing it up
hydrogen beget oxygen

or
adam and eve beget cain

miraculous chemical mutations
molded by time and space
rooted swimming
lumbering between two worlds
finally inhaling
cast out from the cradle of birth into a stinging world
of calamity and chance

small became big
walk became run
some became giants while we slept in trees
until a fireball cast us into dark once more

or
in such a short time as he created
we became the fireball
and smothered the whole good thing

The Winter Branch

2010-03-07T13:18:00.000-08:00

the winter branch held
not knowing that mother spring
was budding anew

Healing

2010-03-07T10:07:00.000-08:00

after the glass cut my skin
the initial blood pain stunned moment
i focused on the index finger of my left hand
i was careless and injured this little party
I accepted responsibility for the accident
and together we mutually decided
to go to the little digit emergency center
and get it checked out

so i walked to the sink

gently sudsing the red trench
pulling it open as the warm water
coursed down the little fleshy canyon
it was hurt but not tragically
so we cleaned up and sat down
and let the air and micro magicians
do their work
i slept a bit as it healed
hours later the report was in

no hard feelings

ready to return to work with 3 days off kitchen duty
light dressing required
I placed the bandaid gently over the line of hurt
and decided it had been a hard day on the digit
so off to the sofa
resting my hand on a pillow
assured all is well
as i read aloud from a favorite book
words known to heal

It Is

2010-01-12T19:53:00.000-08:00

beautiful
so achingly beautiful
so seemingly same yet outrageously different
how changing in colors and scrumptious in forms
outrageously lovingly achingly beautiful
world

Sentient Being

2009-12-27T20:51:00.000-08:00

a smart brain circles a new image
whether in snow or sun
the brain knows
yes
no
something to ponder

it stops
wary still
considering
no
maybe
pretty
sure
yes

the same brain
regardless of cranial form
decides
swift or slow
for good
or ill
and proceeds
with its knowing
in a certain
smart
moment

Merry, Holy

2009-12-10T17:48:00.000-08:00

merry white the crystal that has fallen from the sky
merry be the holly berry
happy be the birds
holy is the bramble
and the forage for the herds

it is the time, tis the season
snow and cold abide
merry be the shortened days,
the winter
and the holidays

happy, merry, holy, berries
to you

You Can See It in Their Eyes

2009-11-22T11:20:00.001-08:00

and for the feathered,
before you eat,
know they sounded this morning.

and in some memory,
scratched the dirt not known
saw patterns the day should bring
and a respect
their full breath
did not provide.

Nets

2009-10-25T17:35:00.000-07:00

there is a net down there, a trap
it lays across the walking grounds
it reaches to the far corners of the country
and stepping into the search
for something to eat
to wear
shelter
company and kind
it waits for the lightest of footfalls
before it snatches ,snares
sending so many falling
then hoisted
upside down
their lives
upside down
above the net.

the greedy thieves
hungry for others
extend and strengthen their trap
catching more
leaving them hanging
as laws are written
mandating better nets
everywhere.

Full 8

2009-10-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

wow
i slept good last night
so good
i could star in a poster
pro sun and daybreak
marching for a greater good
so happy for others
i share the joy and look to the sun
without shades

i will dress like i feel
in energetic flowering fabric
and blossom throughout the day
howdy day!
nothing i can’t do
if i let me
be

Upper Balcony

2009-10-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

how can i believe it
here, in a mirror
how silly of me,
and you are?
i know why
when watching a silent film
one sits so still in the dark
concentrating on the unspoken

staring into the mirror
close and quiet
turning left then right
exaggerating my expressions
watching wrinkles layer down my face
crowding to examine my laugh
aghast!
my features shift and alarm
i recoil from the villain
til i near swoon

i take to this stage
at least as loved
as a saturday matinee
so rife with character
like back in the day
when the story of my life
had yet to speak

Infinite Presence

2009-09-02T17:46:00.000-07:00

all creation is our family
and like sky who welcomes birds
we are carved by souls
we'll never know
so love need not speak words

Paper Trail

2009-08-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

my cat sat still
on window sill
with pencil on paper
she’s rendered
so years to come
our sweet souls gone
my still life still
remembers

Summon Love

2009-08-20T17:45:00.001-07:00

in the dark morning i said a prayer
a long summons to the early ones
those that rise when the sun crooks a beckoning finger
(come here, come to me)
a prayer to the risers , day starters
daylight
savors
the workers
asking
asking them in my prayer
(understanding the dark notes of their day)
asking them
to pray with me
altogether
god like
and thinking hard enough
we can remember
for a moment
feeling another's pain
division upon the lands
the hate
together
let us pray
to a sun beaming and beckoning
together
let us savor
and summon
love

Suddenly

2009-08-10T19:24:00.000-07:00

heralding the second storm
fronting for the rain
cloud mountains
ranging east

do wonders
never cease?

The Visiting Storm

2009-07-24T19:46:00.000-07:00

the visiting storm

couldn’t stay

gusted in and blew away

but further south and

and further east

it pulled the trees

and flooded streets

flooded homes and

smashed the glass

by throwing hail as it passed

pitching lightning down like spears

thundering rumbling

everyone fearing

a funnel cloud sighting

the roar like a train

the flash of the lightning

the torrents of rain

Eve And Now

2009-07-20T16:17:00.001-07:00

many, many, many years ago
out on the desert
before america
a woman ran towards the sun

she stood on the dunes
waiting for her sign.
back then all people were a gift
everyone so new
born of infinite mystery

out in the hotness and blinding sky
she stood
still
as the wind stretched her hair to thick strands
embedding sand over her every inch
until the glitter of sun on sand
made her invisible

this place was new born
hot
wonderful
yet filled her with fear

learning began with her stillness
and watching
as the sea of sand shifted into patterns not understood
or yet respected

she would watch
confident that in this hot fury
meaning would shape itself
and she would know
know for all time
the right things.

it would take so long
it would create patience and understanding.

as the day cooled
she allowed herself distraction
following the light streaking across the sand
till it rode a snake’s back out of sight

just for that short time
she looked away
looked its way
amused

and that was time enough

enough for man to pound past her
and across the sands
breaking all waves and patterns
advancing with certitude and a heavy hand
that would trouble the new world
for many, many, many years to come

The Wind and the Garden Gloves

2009-07-02T06:49:00.001-07:00

Madly dashing hither and yon
rabidly gathering seeds
rushing and twisting and bumping and spilling
my arms full,
i fell to my knees
in my garden
what joy of joy of joy
it is time for the dirt to contain
my ridiculous need to get dirty and play
in an animal way in the green
but today in my rush to gather my work things
my silver and shiny new tools
i forgot my dear work gloves that favor my hands
and are studded with beautiful jewels
so i ran to the work shed and shelf where they lie
and i found them there, restless and trembling
for as the door opened the air entered too
and a rather bold wind pushed against me
swirling and almost quite rudely
it swept up my gloves as I rushed to retrieve them
then whoooooooosh
up they flew high over my head
so I reached tippy toe towards the heavens

“come down here!” i called to my dear garden gloves
that were flittering hither and yon
but instead of returning to me and the seeds
they decided to fly
and were gone!!!!

i watched my dear garden gloves flap with delight
my beautiful garden gloves transformed by flight
and fly away fly away that’s what they did
like a bird taken up by the sun
my cute little garden gloves flew out of sight
and away from the work to be done.

like an irish prayer

2009-06-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

for the love of mike
i beseech you
for the love of all that mike is
i am thankful and glad
for his presence
for the love of what mike loves
i take on faith
that returns to him are plenty
and for the love of what mike sees,
enough.
it is good.
and what catches my heart and fancy
may it be enough
or at least
familiar
and enough
in its certain right and place
to be here
and for the love of mike and jesus
let the creatures live
what harm ever done to you
what good done when their lives are taken
as they flee.
well, then,
for the love of mike
kiss the night hello with a beer and let the creatures pass
why harm any
for the sweet love of mike and jesus
let them be

Open

2009-05-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

opened wide the screen door and stepped into the sun
hills were gold with dying weed and planting had begun
i thought i might find forest
or brush as old as mouse
whatever grows despite us
i salute you
and the sun

There are some days

2009-05-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

there are some days
there is today
i am waiting for the rain
the thought of watering the garden
is a weight

sadness is a sleepy sensation in the early hours
later it morphs to an ache
a pain
an unsatisfied hunger

my day list is short
too much can stretch things to the breaking point
then nothing gets done
too little and there is no call for motion
nothing gets done

maybe it will rain

perhaps a nap
aspirin
lunch
i will move slowly
letting life’s events no matter how subtle
proceed at pace,
meditative

with the first drop
i will lay down
thinking about the beauty of the falling water
how it quenches so many thirsts
eases so many burdens
lifts so much weight

PANTHERA ONCA

2009-05-20T19:02:00.000-07:00

How sad
so very sad
this baby
jaguar
lifted into the air
contrary to paws
up
feels
down
soon
open them wide
to land
faces
not jaguar faces
cameras
???
not known
sudden rush
noises
up
no ground
no known
no tree
tail pulled
something not seen

poor baby
all to weigh
your little 3 million year old
self
for our immediate enjoyment

Image only: Original Caption: Huffington Post: Keeper takes one of the triplet jaguar cubs out of a basket for weighing, May 19, 2009.

Poem: Coyote Soul

branded

2009-05-19T13:46:00.000-07:00

i use to care about them
and bought by name
still do a little
but now i watch old commercials on you tube
perhaps for that same feeling
my mind knows the soft messages
the pitch
responses pulled out of me

sweet balm
for a marketed mind

Reptilian I

2009-05-01T18:50:00.001-07:00

watching a lizard
i put one hand down
another follows
back to front
low to the ground i go
flattening
sibilant
is my tail dragging?

i follow through grass and weed
to open space
belly cooling
eyes scanning the big grass
green blades
shards of light
wind

then, the brushing
rushing
interrupted pattern
of a push
of a snake!
quick!
the other!

i am fear
lifting my legs
my hands and feet
leg over leg
hand over hand
fast
faster
faster
sliced by shards and blades
darting into shadow

slowly bobbing
weaving
seeing beyond stillness
wind
grass and sun
watching
for the other
the storm of light and silence
the crack in the patterns

every which way
every which way
i look
resting
in the dark
under a rock
digging a little
my hand is foot
cool and dark

a simple stone
flat
i am under it
i am still
so still
am I
still
who i am?

my heart
beating heart
fast quick hot
out there
so open
the sun
blinding

quick!
the urge to rush
but i stay
sway
cool in the dark
a split second
i resist
then, now
an urge
push forward!
go! go out!
out from the rock!

one hand down
front to back
green shards
hot sun
the pattern is breaking!
rushing, smoothing, pushing
close behind
faster! faster!
one hand down

the other follows.

Amidst the Glorious Bounty Of Now

2009-04-28T16:43:00.001-07:00

There is nothing more important than this, right here
there can be nothing more beautiful than what is before me, right now
there was no other way i could have taken
to bring me closer to this moment
whatever is before me i know nothing of
yet through its bounty i walk

nowhere, no time
can bring so much to my senses
no minute, as essential
no second, so vital
yet this very place is, was, everywhere
just as extraordinary for every living thing
luxuriant awareness
amidst the bounty of now

and there is nothing so sad
as to not see it, to not feel it
to not live and embrace it
this moment
this very
exquisite
moment

Spring Grazing

2009-04-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

First it rained, then it snowed
the sun wanted to show but
no, no, no
not today
tomorrow is the sunshine, they say
all i know is the horses and cows don't mind
if there is sunshine or rain
because the greening has begun
and they'll eat good all day.

Seasons

2009-04-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

I thought we would never leave winter
but with spring in my step
I'll certainly see summer
before falling back
to make angels in the snow

Insects Amaze Me

2009-04-11T18:32:00.001-07:00

insects amaze me
they wonderously do
billions are everywhere
if only we knew

what makes them so different
and the role that they play
we might respect earth
in a tiny, big way

Freak and Biff

2009-04-11T13:58:00.001-07:00

(Image copyright Kuzniart 2009)

I'm writing some stories in poetic form that should be fun for both kids and grownups to read. Chris and I are working together on the illustrations so be prepared for some wild characters and colors. Here's a sample illustration from the story "Freak and Biff". Freak is the cow and Biff is the donkey. It is a story of friendship and differences. Simple lessons often translate into the best stories.

There Is No Burden To a Dream

2009-04-08T16:45:00.001-07:00

There is no burden to a dream
it should be something that frees you upward,
light as a feather,
face towards the sun,
a deep breath swelling your chest full of good air
the smile reminding again and again of the joy of the dream
and the good feeling of true peace

nothing and no one can harm you
nothing and no one can disturb your dream

You will be whole
all by yourself
alone
able to understand where you fit and flow with all of life
as it swirls and orbits
appears and departs
nations and spaces of other lives and creatures
and to understand that harm to any one
hurts you the very most.

Years Ago Loving

2009-03-28T19:18:00.000-07:00

a polaroid
a snapshot
a party
these two

wallpaper
flowering
his green pants
her blue

round about
hugging
their happiness
blooms

post war
elation
and boomers
soon due

Devotional

2009-03-16T15:53:00.000-07:00

For all the animals

for all they are
see them, with a bird's eye
smell them, with the ox's nose
feel them here
in your heart
with the quick sense of the red fox
as she jumps
just for joy.

Collage by Chris

Wish That I Was Here

2009-03-10T13:13:00.000-07:00

I dressed myself in flower spots
and did my hair in colors
I left my garden, home and hearth
to be amongst the others

I hadn’t walked among them
since I don’t remember when
so seeing all their faces
will bring me back again

Back to when an old friend gave me
something oh so dear
that I packed it with the memory
and lost both late last year

Or the time this person called to say
oh what a time we had!
not being rude, but honestly
not recalling him was sad

but anyway the invite came
had 40 years gone by?
reunion with the others
should prove my state a lie

Why, when I walk in and see them
and know them by their names
my memory will welcome me
and likewise do the same

What a life I must have led!
what grand folks befriended!
So what I can’t recall a thing
it’s not like life has ended

It’s in the moment I reside
a pleasant place, quite near
the only thing that I regret
I wish that I was here

Beach

2009-03-01T14:38:00.001-08:00

Up on one elbow she yelled

“Any body got the time?”

Hearts gripped.

Who could move?
or even worse
invite conversation
when all you wanted to do is lie there
in silence
in the temple of the sacred sands and chanting radio choirs

Thousands like me
all of us
eyes closed
slow roasting worries with prayerful diligence
waiting for our troubles to rise on the heat
and float to a distant star.
Who wanted to interrupt this holy ritual
this perfectly relaxed, vacant moment
for time.

So the thousands, like me,
in prone supplication to the great hot god,
ignored the awake one
pretending an even deeper sleep,
sending that worry also to the sky.

Secrets

2009-03-01T10:17:00.000-08:00

Birds have teeth
dogs have souls
wild strawberries stained the hooves of the running horse

they are wild,
they are gone.

Branches are arms stretched out like avenues to cross
trunks round and gravid even after their seed is sown,
healing themselves
leaf licking wound.

they are breath,
they are life.

Winter!
who could believe,

Spring!
who survived,

Rejoiced!
the sun feeds us all a big yellow muffin to sustain our journey to the sky.

Please, let me tell you something I have learned.
It is a thought of great fear.
Hold it close, and wonder.

(I look for a soft cradle in which to lay my concern and you deliver)

"I am safe, you are safe"
(we understand that many are not)

That is the secret.

Dark Birds

2009-02-04T17:12:00.001-08:00

The Birch grew beside the water early in the world
undoing itself bit by bit
year by year
casting parchment to the winds
asking to be part of the story,
to tell what it knew

The tree's skin dropped to the ground in thin sheets
and curled up as scrolls
coveting early images of dark birds
inked onto its flesh
by a god.

Later on, the tattooed scroll was found by a man
and, like any thing of wonderment,
passed from one to another
making each man whistle and sing
as if he had captured the birds

with his own hands.

My Creative and Colorful Turn

2009-01-28T07:59:00.000-08:00

One day
standing by the window looking at the snow
I wondered
how can I capture the sparkle?
the whiter whites
the reflective crystals of ice
that sense of softness crusted by the cold
How can I capture all of it on paper?

I am awaiting the thaw and a warmer sun
that inspired first blush when colors flow and grass rattles with life
the winds tussle fur and wing
and white sunlight softly burns the green
A seasonal masterpiece!
with all its starts and stormy revisions,
complete.

And my muse?
My creative and colorful turn?

dormant

in the palette
the shapes,
the feel and timing.

and I,
in a white encrusted mantle,
can only wait
and ready for color's return.

Evolving

2009-01-23T16:41:00.000-08:00

The wind coursing off the planets is strong
we turn in revolution
blasts of hot gas crackle our veneer
cool off
enough to grow arms and teeth and tail
Linked by line, one to the other
matched xx,xy,xxyy
basic stuff
mapped and frozen
filed away for the future
for the right time
and a good strong breeze.

Winter Spring

2009-01-21T20:36:00.000-08:00

With so much snow and cold, and wind whipped drifts all about, I think of spring. Spring with the new green grass, bright blue skies and returning birds. Spring with the rapid creek and awakening snakes. The early buds and the first warm rains. Starting the seeds in the cold frame. Raking up the winter debris. Donning a flannel shirt and garden gloves. Working up a sweat. Spring! I love winter but more arctic air is coming this weekend and more snow a week after that. So I ordered the garden seeds and onion and potato sets, three Nanking cherry bushes and some grape vines. Now I eagerly await the passing of the last frost, the promise of the garden and Spring's sweet, sweet labors of love.

(The painting is entitled "Ode To a Mexican Bird". When I was a child we had pictures hanging in the house that were made in Mexico and depicted birds, their bodies made of feathers. So colorful, I often wondered what birds could be so beautiful.)

A Sacred Trust

2009-01-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

The earth holds us all without concern for form.
Beneath:
an incubator of heat, liquid rock and gas
Above:
we come and go
some sooner than need be and with a soul of consequences

But:
(if you)
trace the patterns of the prints in crusted melt of snow
at end of winter
note!
They wear no shoes
yet they know

We need this place.

Looking to the Lady who places feast and scrap at all doors
they have hope:

that She will return
that She will return every year
that She will return every month and day and minute

they know Her very well
and they believe.

A First and Lasting Love

2009-01-06T10:27:00.000-08:00

I remember when I was six walking up the stairs to our apartment with my mom. I looked down and much to my awe and delight was the biggest and greenest and most graceful moving insect I had ever seen. I dropped to a squat with a big smile in my heart and on my face and said "Look mom, what is it? It's so pretty." I reached to touch it, perhaps to pick it up, but before I could my mom came over, informed me it was a grasshopper and told me to get in the house. I fell instantly in love. Not just with the grasshopper, but with the feelings I had watching it. Delight, awe, respect for its presence and life, amazement over its size and glorious lime green coloring. Later on I discovered it was a katydid. To this day, when I see one, I feel the same sense of awe and wonder I did those many years ago. In fact, I have those same feelings for all the natural world and its creatures, those things I've seen and those I never will. I like to think that the last breath I draw will be a gasp of delight as I watch a butterfly pass by.

This spring I' ll carry my pads, paints and pencils outdoors and sketch what draws me in. I haven't painted a snake portrait yet but intend to as they are plentiful here, large and quite commanding when present. They stretch across the driveway on a pleasant day, soaking up the heat before slicing through the shade of the tall grass.

The painting above is of a coyote. I had a mural/mosaic design thing going on as I was painting so I entitled it "Pompeii Dog".

The Luck Of The Draw

2009-01-01T10:00:00.000-08:00

I like to paint. Sitting down in front of blank paper or gessoed board, waiting for that mystical moment when the brush touches the surface and something starts. Sometimes I begin with a vague image or theme in mind. Often I just see what happens. I love to paint portraits. I usually choose a photo or magazine ad to guide me with the general shape of the head or facial features but the finished product looks nothing like the original inspiration. And I like it that way. I like never quite knowing how a painting is going to turn out. I first focus on the face, the expression. It always amazes me how the slightest curve of the mouth or angle of the eye can create a mood and personality. After the face is completed, the rest is gravy. And then there is that decisive moment, brush in hand, when the muse whispers "It's finished. Brush down. Back away from the table." Everything I paint I complete in one sitting over a period of one to three hours or so. Wouldn't know how to come back to a piece. I wouldn't be under the same spell that allowed me to create it in the first place.
The painting above is entitled "Mom". It is loosely based on a grainy black and white photo of my mother taken about 1940 or so. Perhaps tomorrow I will begin work on a series of four portraits, each somehow reflecting a season. Or maybe I'll begin work on this group portrait idea I've been tossing about entitled "Choir". We'll see. I never know until the paint begins to flow. It truly is the luck of the draw.

Let's Go Back

2008-12-29T20:16:00.000-08:00

Let's go back
go back to when you were a child
as far back as you will allow
are you two? three? five?
can you see your little hands and feet?
wherever you landed, this place your mind set you in is very important
note exactly where that place is because it is the core of your soul
step back and see yourself - hair , face, belly, the clothes you are wearing
in what place are you?
who is there with you or are you alone?
note your emotions - love, fear, loneliness, rage
what do you feel about this little you?

You are a creation
coming from something that was formed by another, upon another,
upon another
stringing back
tied by time, countless and eternal
each of your cells is all of you
each cell a brain
every cell a memory of the bounty and lush bed of the birth of all life.

You are individual in that you have a body
but you are hardly who you think you are.

Stand your little self up in your memory
peal off all your clothes
feel the temperature of your surroundings
see the place where you stand
breath in, smell, look around
erase everyone else
turn off the noise and be there for a while

Let where you are evolve
it will paint itself and soon you will wish to move around in it
your little body
let it go
let it run wild
let your memories release from every cell
older and older

There are other creatures with you now
running, running
you - naked, bouncing, skin scratching on a branch
you are panting too
there is no need to rest
just keep going back
open your memory
and run tripping down the grassy slope to join the herd.