Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Fall Competition

Here is the rabbit
in the burrow
while the coyote
and the buzzard
light a fire by the door,
waving smoke and sweet talking.
“Little Rabbit, I will be kind,”
Coyote sings,
“I only want your skin, I swear.
If you give it to me now
I will go away
for the season
and come drive you out in the winter.
I hear death to cold is easy, small friend,
a simple nap to the other side.”
Buzzard chuckles.
“I am kinder,”
he croons.
“I will wait until you’re dead to eat you.
But I’ll be honest, if you come out now,
you’ll make us happy
and when you are gone
we will sing for you
songs of thanksgiving…
isn’t it tempting?”
Rabbit sighs, and lights tobacco, and sage.
“Wait, wait, brethren, until I am old and slow.
Then when I come out I won’t even run.
Until then seek some other burrow
that may find your voices pleasing.
I have enough roots to sustain me til spring.
By then you’ll be frostbitten
and your navels meeting your backbones.
So off you go, and thanks for the fire,
it keeps the wolves and foxes back,
and they tend to dig at the door.
Next time bring some sweetgrass,
maybe some cabbage, or beer.
You really need to work on your approach
when there are so many predators
competing with you.”

(c) RCGA 2016


Third of October

Black Dog

I know your belly’s empty
and the howl building up
could fill the bowels
of a thousand
no a legion
of crueler predators than you

Hush though

Be quiet
if you can’t be still

Let my mind in silence
in your dark starving breath
and know you

How can I understand
Black Dog

How can I comprehend you

When my ears are ringing
with the whine of your distress
the sound of wind against
your bowing ribs
the noise of sighs echoing
around the damp cavern of your mouth
your teeth
stalactites and stalagmites

Black Dog

Our only respite is each other
my skin and bones
surrounding your wounded carcass
your hovering darkness
guarding what’s left of me
the shadowed face
of the moon
always turned away
from the blindness of the sun

There is more than mystery
in the zero
despite the pain
I ask you please


(c) RCGA 2016



Girl-Looking-At-The-Sun-At-SunriseLet me tell you something, people
Let me tell you something

You may think that it is trite to say
that you reap what you sow
because in this life you don’t always
get what you deserve
for good or ill…
yes, that is true

such a truth

Yet, let me tell you something
something important

Every time you send out hate
every time you act on that hate
with your mind, with your words
with your hands

you destroy a little piece of the world
and your soul

Someday there will be nothing left
of the former
someday you will be dust
and your soul

your soul will mourn

because you didn’t choose love
because you chose the straight path
that was easy and indulgent
because you turned your back on forgiveness
and wallowed in your righteousness
poisoning the well
we all have to drink from

Let me tell you something, people
Let me tell you something

It is not easy to sow kindness in this world
but it is the only harvest
you should want to reap and share
so plant it
plant it everywhere
some of it will grow
some of it will

RCGA 2016

So much this.

Words for the Year

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do…

View original post 40 more words

Rain Day

The humidity is high
a damp grey curtain
made of wool
that clings and weighs me down
each time I venture out

Yet the birds sing
repetitive echoes in the trees
and somewhere
a dog barks once
punctuation to the cicadas
and crickets
and small frogs calling
for rain to come


(c) RCGA 2016

Dear Janet

Dear Janet:
Writing you on the other side
to say that
I wish I could lie on your table again
and have you tell me
the same thing
you did before:

Remember a time that you failed.

I was young then, Janet
I was so green and full of hubris
I did not want to fail
and had worked hard
not to ever be seen as a failure

Pride in the spring
before the long summer
Pride when the flowers blossom
ignoring the inevitability
of the petals falling away

Yes, I have failed, Janet
many times now
I have fallen and gotten up
over and over
as the weight of experience and years
piled onto my shoulders
and I chose a rocky path
or tripped on my own feet

The buds crested,
their full perfume a memory now
but there has been fruit
something to sustain me in the harvest
and hopefully, Janet
the seeds I preserve
will weather the winter
so I can share them
before I am part of the loam.

I am learning, Janet
I am learning that failure
as you said
means I am reaching farther
than the safety
of trying to be perfect
I am trying harder
to grow.

(c) RCGA 2016

This is my 200th post here.

For Janet Mentgen, RN and Healing Touch mentor, who passed in 2005.

Healing-Touch-Janet M

I hear your buzzing, and it drives me mad,
that soft, incessant humming that you do;
though you are not my enemy (I’m glad),
I’m still tempted to hit you with my shoe.
But I’m resolved to let your buzzing be
(Ha, did you catch that… bee? You are not one)
live and let live as long as there’s no stings.
You really push my human frailty
droning against my window in the sun
fabric chuffing on your beating wings.

I opened up the window for you twice
and shooed you towards it; but you clung there, staid
red body pushed against the glass, a vice
too stubborn to escape when you were bade.
What festers in that tiny brain of yours
that keeps you in, but beats against the wall,
unable to take freedom freely shown,
yet constantly seeks to be out of doors?
Wee russet warrior, you are very small
yet fierce determined, tap, and chuff, and drone.

I could just redPaperWaspcapture you and set you free
against your will into the sultry air;
but it’s become a test twixt you and me,
and giving in just doesn’t seem quite fair.
So I will sit, and listen to your hum
two feet away from a wide open door,
and contemplate the qualities of glass
and wonder what’s made my ambitions numb,
that I do not push boundaries like before,
but seek the least resistant route bypass.

(c) RCGA 2016

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