Okay, enough already!
It’s a futile misunderstanding of the world
to wish winter away -
like insensitive words.

Snow I love -
fresh flake and flood,
shoveling in the driveway
my blue coat turns white
as flour and we wake
to moonstone evergreens.

Yet no one claps or stands for ice
and a freezing March is without glory.
It is coats, boots, gloves, hat, scarf,
long underwear, sweaters, ear muffs,
on and off, on and off, and on and on,
and the sky stays white,
and everything is blurry gray,
and we’re growing old in the United States.
Indeed.  It’s easy to magnifying
what is liked least.

Okay. Acceptance baby -
bring it on!  I wish only to be here now.
In Minnesota.
I'm going out into this icy c..c..cold.

Under all these layers
is a warm me.

Hi hibiscus.
Here is water,
a kiss for the day,
leaf to my cheek,
a gentle word or two.

You are a rescue,
saved from snow,
like a neighborhood cat,
waiting for spring air.

On the iron stand
in the living room corner,
you grow tangerine flowers
in December.

If only we could
fold and unfold
the world,
then this Christmas
I would share
my feast with you!

Here I am thinking about him

in the middle of the night again,

about our passing ships.

Here I am stuck on ice,

waiting for spring,

the ice breaker to arrive.

There he sails, a pirate

with part of my treasure,
east into the sunrise,
receding in my binoculars.

I stroll the tarnished street
in fluid purple-gray winter,
not frozen white on white.

My coat is open
like a early summer sweater.
I’m searching.

There is always something
opening the day, bringing
you to a halt, causing

you to gasp and sigh.
Oh!  At the garden’s edge
sunflowers stand in winter,

frail, yet proud and undeterred.
They are taller then me,
charcoal lined, light and strong


not crumbling with a touch,
melancholy silhouettes, seeming
shadows of old soldiers and dancers.

They are pearl-gray statues
garden-made, guarding
the ground till spring.

Off Medication

He  searches and questions
from across the table,
beside her on the church pew.
She feels it between them
his searching and questions
and begins to think again:
I am not good enough.
I am not good enough.

I am not good enough grows.

She searches and questions
at the table, during work,
unable to sleep.
She searches and questions
into a deep, falling night.
It is a mission of destruction.
How easily she breaks
for she is not good enough.
She has never been
and will never be
good enough.

Thank you for meeting
this late summer rose,

self doubt - spring-silver and indigo,

mockingbird with a broken wing,
intern of river songs,

with compliments, more

compliments, sincerely

to meet part of yourself
in me.

I need a shovel
to dig deep to find
my love for you.  No.
A backhoe won't even do.

Years a companion
easy to find,
years again till finally lost,
my love for you.

I gave up,
left you for dead,
so far-away-cold
my love for you.

But love is never gone
or it was not love.
Maybe it was never
love at all.

Are you God?
My crew of angels
are not disabled.
They are perfect.

Joy is being in every moment,
none excluded, I know.
  From Dana, I growl, emit nonlanguage
sounds.  It is a way of helping the universe
to evolve.
                           Skeptics, you baboons!
It is stepforward into silliness.

  "Grrrrr.." I say when she glares, a volcano
ready to spray lava into the room,
   because she'll remember her comedian self.
Suddenly she smiles leaning forward,
an eruption thwarted, and I hear her rumble,
a low human "grrrr..."

All is right in the world.

We don't need to agree on things
my Russian counterpart.
We don't need to agree
that there are no countries
as I believe,
or that your country is great
as you do.

You think I'm a remnant hippie,
a tiny, insignificant piece of peace.
I think you are interesting
and smoke and drink too much.

Smoke, drink,
insignificant piece of peace,
It's all the same.

But poetry,
poetry,
poetry, oh Lord!
Heaven and all dimensions listen,
timelessly smitten as we.

If only poetry made our world go round.
We agree on that.

We sit cross-legged

      facing each other,

      a tall lighted candle, 

a plate of delectable dark chocolate 

      in between us,

each with a cup of warm, gentle tea.

      We breath in chocolate, tea, 

       fire, each other's smiling auras.

      "Meditation!" he beams,
Where have you been all my life!"

He thinks we are separate
he worked hard
for what is his alone

unaware I am
hands to his feet
water to his land
atom to his atom
veins to his leaf

unaware he is
lightening to my thunder
blue to my lightest, brightest green
roots to my flowers
handle of my cup

unaware he is
a voice to his rhythm
cells of his neighbor's blood
a far-away stranger's blood
a tusk of an elephant
the stranger is hunting

unaware he is
a star to their stars
seconds to their seconds
ignorance to their ignorance
wisdom to their wisdom
as I am

It may take until a last breath
a breath he thinks is his alone
that he realizes this.

she has a narrow mind

flat-earth vision

I thought

until I fell off the edge

birds flutter
feedering
four feet from me
wings and air
rolling rs

I play pianissimo
- hear them join me
one of a singing flock,
singing in heaven

Sitting
at the cleared table
waiting for...
This!

contemplating
a rose cardinal dining
at my sunflower seed restaurant feeder
finishing with fervent song
my tip!

Do you love me
like you used to
when I was younger?
Do you, do you, do you, do you...

Am I beautiful
like I was
when I was younger?
Am I, am I, am I, am I...

Do I still have potential
to make clouds weep or disappear
like I used to singing
Do I, do I, do I, do I....

I still love you
You are more beautiful,
every day more beautiful.
I do. I do. I do.

The sum

of all
thoughts
is one.
Love,
fear is
undone.

anticipating spring
my hair is turning
green

All evening French words
one brick at a time mon ami
un brique rouge, deux, trois,
millions of synapses.
Across land and sea,
sur terre et sur mer,
to Paris the path is built
one brick at a time mon ami.

perfect cat 
carefree, purring
like a chorus of cats

Every day should be such a day
from the first breath in the dark
when you know you are awake
to the last before sleep
not wanting it to end
every day should be such a day.

Every day should be such a day
when you know you are special
that the day is yours
and that you are kind
and beautiful as morning light
every day should be such a day.

Every day should be such a day
where every sound is music
where stillness is a melody
and life is for rejoicing
You know that you belong
Every day should be such a day!

Wolf wind outside the window
waking me up in the middle of the night
to confront again this cold-like hunger
loneliness is bringing