all the dying reach
into the unknowable,
a blooming song born

all the dying reach
into the unknowable,
a blooming song born
In May Monet brews
deep hues’ agony and love
the vista reveals
A woman reeling
deeply resonating hope,
courage poised, still.
My daughter, Marion, is often called May, and in May we visited Carnegie Museum of Art. The month of May turned out to be a very challenging and difficult time for my daughter. Her courage, strength, and depth of awareness struck me as I turned to look back at her lingering over Monet’s magnificent and imparting work of beauty.
witnesses in time
among the lines’ flowing sighs
eternal love vibes
haphazardly stood,
our stories telling fluid
crooked mystery
all the crushing tides,
rivulets, flashing bolts of
life, light, fire and ice
carve these etchings’ speak
and harden, encase tender
flow while seeds erupt
magic, making me
in spite of, because of all
these shredding life songs
“One cannot have doubt about that which he wishes to trust. To trust love you must be convinced of love. One cannot admit what he does not yield to. To yield to love you must be vulnerable to love. One cannot love what he does not dedicate himself to. To dedicate yourself to love you must be forever growing in love.” Leo Buscaglia
shore breaks here whisper
something about constancy.
love knows all our fears
tossing in tides of
change. we cling to sea’s uproar
’til the silence sighs
and we float ashore,
tumbling mystery and
faith in what we know.
liquid life love flow
spends wet timeless precious now
an eternal rhyme
ripple through, over
me-all fully floating now
torn from towers’ sway
say me along to
brew roaring liquid peace-flow
from night to day, new
watch me fall apart
seeds, crumbling into song full
‘neath the hum of earth
from dirt to sky to
river low and back to dirt,
dancing life anew.
these grapes wash vintage
soul clean, wholly alive, a
deep grace glowing love’s hum