
what i saw, or heard or dreamt or desired,
slid and slipped, tipped and tripped–
at once crystal clear and perfectly opaque

what i saw, or heard or dreamt or desired,
slid and slipped, tipped and tripped–
at once crystal clear and perfectly opaque

Come hear Uncle John’s Band by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about, here beside the rising tide.
Uncle John’s Band written by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter,
The Grateful Dead, 1970

your gaze leaves me frozen
and i wonder what your eyes hide,
a little pain, a little promise, a little pride–
your gaze leaves me broken,
and i wonder what your violet eyes veil–
see you later, see you never, see you ’round sometime over there

sweet drops of rain kissing you awake

go ahead and spin,
it might be a beautiful journey

fly with the geese
live in a miniature village beneath huge orchids
become invisible and wander the world
ride a unicorn
physically step into the pages of a book
have a conversation with fish (and cows and birds and horses and cats)
walk into a painting
travel in a time machine

This list inspired by Susannah Conway.
Dear Love, where did we go wrong?
Dear Home, you are not made of bricks and mortar.
Dear Feet, i must take better care of you.
Dear Morning, i know we can be friends.
Dear Intuition, thank you.
Dear Books, i love you.
Dear Rest, you are always welcome.
Dear Younger Me, be kinder, more generous and less self-absorbed.
Dear Imagination, why don’t you call as often?
Dear First Love, please forgive me.
Dear Hunger, you swallow me whole.
Dear Future Me, i hope you’ve found your way.
Dear Senses, i cherish you.
Dear Courage, do not desert me.
Dear Shadows, can you make a puppet?
Dear Legs, you are mighty.
Dear Family, practice patience and love.
Dear Kindness, we are close now and i am grateful.
Dear Money, you still frighten me after all these years.
Dear Reflection, always at odds with the world.
Dear Sky, you are sill lovely when you cry.
Dear Fear, why do you follow me?
Dear Magic, you are my saving grace.
Dear Truth, help me find the answers.
Dear America, it’s not all about you.
Dear Heart, if only you could be lighter.
Dear Change, you never fail to show up.
Dear Laughter, thank goodness you have not foresaken me.
Dear Sancutuary, i miss you.
Dear Sylvia, it will be ok.

blue and white and red
spinach and cucumbers and green apples
spring nights and quacking ducks
the letter q next to the letter i
black tea and almonds with honey
soft scarves and cold winds
patience and family
journeys with no destinations
the smell of old board games and nostalgia

we all practice the art of camouflage
to one extent or another

i witnessed a devastating fire on a sunny day in March,
i heard the glass pop and the timbers fall within great plumes of suffocating black smoke–
i placed my face close to the velvet petals of a tulip and felt a cool greeting in response–
i watched a small child ride a scooter in the street and an old woman yell at him to move along, his indifference made clear in the straight position of his young shoulders–
i held a pup’s head that will grow to be larger than my own and marveled at her soft, gangling beauty–
almost too much for a lifetime, let alone, for a day