The Glade of the Forest

In the glade of the forest
we found a spot
it was the perfect shape
a home for a woodland creature
a magic brewing witch
kids just like us.

Five trees stood together
a small circle almost complete
acorns, berries, pine cones strewn within
soft forest floor
the oak, the largest above the maples
with a burrowed hole in the base of the trunk
the size of a cooking pot
and here is where we made our brews
twigs, pine needles, acorns, dirt, leaves, berries
we stirred with the best sticks we could find
making the best soups we could make
to feed our magic hearts
and to beckon the wild things
that we knew could see us in the woods.

I would greet the fawn
as she walked into the circle
“hello fawn. do you want some breakfast?”
I’d lay a bowl on the ground for her.

I’d poke and tend to our brew once again
adding a few new ingredients
black oak, birch bark
wondering if the porcupine
would show up or not.

the kids would start to walk by on the trail
back towards the school yard
noisy shouting and snorting
and the school bell would ring
they’d start to run and rush
snapping me from my trance
the flora and fauna releasing me for the moment
reluctantly looking over my shoulder
back at the brown bricked building
unwilling to budge
my magic holding me down
expecting and waiting and waiting
for the woods to fold into themselves
to reveal the shimmering under belly
of everything I’ve always felt
but had never seen with my eyes.

I Had a Hunch All Along

a cycle like water
an alchemist, i blend
this into that
elevated and hot
slumber never sleeps
dimensions so divided
aching for unity
a form with full flow
like seeded wires
connected and fruitful
bringing this stream
to its ocean
so i can move
and move again.

Bring It In and Begin

silky wings
slip through choppy flight
I release and pause
with momentum under
a quiet moment
to tell you I love you
a breath so natural
an exhale with your name

instead I seal my lips
turning to face inward
my heart so open
with silence I fly
into new and old wounds
I will do more than recover
not knowing the next unfolding
I can surrender without losing.

I Said I Knew

i’ve seen it for years
the light that flickers
when your stream
reaches my shore
it yanks
on what we both know well
call it what you want
a spark that flew
somehow survived
a firefly in a jar
with poke holes of air
often asking
to fly freely
in the summer woods
with a dawn
that never arrives.

Pass & Realign

i peel back
the skins of our distance
and wonder at the kernel
of where this began
where it grew
into twisted knuckles
holding gold and crystal
so tightly our palms bled
into silt and salt
pouring onto the future
of everything that will always
happen without you.

Fling & Refocus

to get unstuck
outside parts of yourself
that stick and harden
fool you into thinking
a different way
is always escaping.

i want to unstick
because perspective
is not a flash light
onto reality
but is the core and creator
of all you give and get.

yes to give
i want to give more
give to everything
not just me or someone i love
but give just to give
by being with and working at
what i love
and have created for myself
not dealt
to me by some unnameable force.

you are what you give
you are what you love too
and it’s hard to say which comes first
because when i give i love
and when i love i give too.

London St., Peterborough ON (1999)

I am writing on paper
from the bearded lady
she has stamped it
with a leaf and some velvet
making my hands
want weightlessness.

This porch and this blue sky
with autumn in its creases
erodes Saussure and his comfortable
delegation of arbitrarity
and things like the trees
with their flustered
state of coral death
become fine tuned.

You Are There

~~~a lovely poem, not mine~~~
by Erica Jong

You are there.
You have always been
there.
Even when you thought
you were climbing
you had already arrived.
Even when you were
breathing hard,
you were at rest.
Even then it was clear
you were there.

Not in our nature
to know what
is journey and what
arrival.
Even if we knew
we would not admit.
Even if we lived
we would think
we were just
germinating.

To live is to be
uncertain.
Certainty comes
at the end.