old claims

golden ocean catching sunset fire,
winters cold, burn the lungs and eyes,

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.


look here to marvel at
the subtlety and violence of color,
the manic strength of storming wind,
the give and take of life, the

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.

prairie plains, fields of golden wheat,
my Midwest.
land watered by sweat, blood,
and stubborn determination.
land of hard men and women,

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.

forget monuments, signs, tours.
here, history is palpable, alive.
keeps rhythm to the great and terrible heart of

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.

my Midwest.
she sings and wails, and wails and sings.
calls me back to a home I left long ago.
my Midwest,

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.

I hear you still. I know your claim.
I will bring them to you.
They will hear your songs and taste your dirt,
They will know and understand your

flat earth, endless sky, howling wind.

the whale's song

I dreamt of speaking

on a night where no silence was to be found.

mad thoughts rushing about,

too fast to understand, too slow to forget.

Through a whispering stream, 

these thoughts float to a silent God.

Trident in hand, he watches and understands

the currents and waves of running prayers

rising in swells with every heavy breath,

spiraling into whirlpools of despair.

Also, happily lapping the sweet shore of remembrance,

of gratitude. 

I dreamt of speaking

on a night where no silence was to be found.

On the belly of an ocean  black,  

I bobbed along afraid of the universe beneath me, 

so real,  hidden and unseen. So much a part of me.

I bobbed along afraid of the universe above,

endless and expanding, unveiling the secrets of me. 

I bobbed alone in his majestic presence, 

irrevocably being, wanting to just be. 

Shadows

If you spend enough time with toddlers you start to see the world anew, through their eyes. Words become fresh again, pots become instruments, and burps are the funniest thing under the sun.  The other week,  my nephew and I stood looking out the kitchen window. Outside, the sun had gone to sleep and the porch  light cast new shadows. The night wind made the big, patio  umbrella dance without music, its black shadow bobbing ominously against the garage. I felt the grip of my nephew's fingers tighten, like his legs wrapped around my waist. His chubby finger pointed at the dark, the  umbrella, the shadow. He had this anxious look and I could tell he was having a "to cry or not to cry" moment.  Unable to make his mind up,  he looked back my way, checking to see how I was handling the spookiness. As I calmly explained shadows, wind and night time, I could see the wheels in his head working hard to keep up with a world that keeps getting bigger and more complex. Holding him closer, it dawned on me that it wasn't just him I was trying to comfort, but myself. Sometimes it takes a toddler's honest fear to admit how scary things still are, even when we have the words to explain them away.

if we could...

split dark night
heavy weight
supernova.

sing musical notes
orchestrated breath
zenith.

spin whirling dervish
dance stillness
ascend.

lunar eclipse

palmers' palms catch fountain words
from praying lips, but like water
can only drip, trickle, escape

until the moon, eclipsed
emerged again and into
parched hands, poured light

silver water, mirror, rippling

blessed prayer, cool

lake.

summer

We ate the sun.  Sprinkled it with jasmine and red, Alabama dirt. Moss of my father's oak tree.

We drank desert stars and full moons. Our thirst wouldn't quench, so we drank all night, our toes buried in cool sand.

We crowned our dark heads with golden wheat: Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska woven tight. Midwestern sprites in summer shorts and tan-lined sandals.

We wrote poems, lying in freshly cut grass. Mine, by a finger tracing your back.  You preferred pen and a bare arm.

We broke noses, fingers, and baby toes. Twisted anything that could twist. Tore ligaments galore. Threw backs out before we could even drive.  We were wild, dirty and reckless for living. 

pieces

I carried you up the mountain's path,
Your absence, the ever present burden,
Silent companion with a deadly grip.

But where the earth grazed the sky,
Our fingers unfurled.

Up here,  memory's gravity wouldn't hold.
And when the wind beckoned, I let you go.