On Breathing

Wild roots find earth and this is how we fly,
our bodies free beneath the weight of bone,
when hands rise up like wings, become the sky,
each sweet breath climbs us closer to the sun,
and ballast from these thoughts becomes the rain,
falls into each pain I’ve guarded from you,
my vessel flooded, cracks without refrain,
as what moves inside me, moves inside you.
The inhalation opens up the gate,
the exhalation tills the solid ground,
the in and out and in and out of it,
soft feathers on the wind the only sound,
and so near silence, all wings become one
as breath moves in and out and in again.

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Shadows

Even the
pebbles cast
black shadows
long, like
zebra stripes
across the
dusty trail.
And long,
your shadow
too, speechless
and stretching
up the
hillside ripe
with yellow
cactus bloom.
All evening,
you are
quiet with
your questions,
stopping only
to replace
the silver
grass between
your teeth,
or to
sit and
watch the
last speckled
patch of
sunlight fading
on the
river, rippled
water moving
in and
out, and
in again.

The Fish

listen.                   I am  
more than            a fish
bubbling               swimming
words                   around, I am
living                     deep
inside of                dark
spaces                  between the
silent                      oceans.

Sea Change

There is something
bubbling, brewing,

calling blue beneath
the surface,

aching,
stirring.

You are listening
and  ignoring,

ocean’s eager
swells unnerving.

Riptides pulling,
unforgiving.

Paddle fast
against the surging,

or gaze hard at
what is

churning.
If only you could

quench the wondering,
satisfy the tugging song.

Surrender to depths’
endless calling,

you may find
silence

in the dawn.