Lava Mae

After years of bringing students to volunteer with Lava Mae, I was so happy that my daughter and her friend were able work with them yesterday in the Mission District of San Francisco.

Lava Mae is a San Francisco–based nonprofit that delivers mobile showers and other critical services to the street, where people moving through homelessness need them most.

For more information, please visit: https://lavamae.org/

So I Keep On Writing

Mary Oliver writes of
flowers and she does it
very well, as I just stare
at words, wishing that
goldenrod could mean

as much to me, stuck in
this urban world, nature
on the fringe, everything
I cannot see, because in
the car I move too fast

to even smell the air,
but excuses will never
win, nor are they really
true, so I keep on writing,
this much I know to do

Country Music

Charley Pride on bathroom
laptop, while I shave, his voice
forlorn longing, whiskers
collect on razor’s edge, this
morning mirror apart from wife
and son. I feel for Merle Haggard,
travails, time on the road, love
found and lost, like Loretta Lynn
in Topeka, daydreaming of that
different life, away from crumpled
hamper laundry and the last
cereal bowl bits clinging to old
milk. Somewhere in Nashville
they are still singing with Jesus,
waiting for my return.

Mount Tamalpais

we talk about life
stumbling upward toward East
Peak, the fog slowly
disappearing into blue sky
day on this mountain

where we remember thirty
that age when last
here, ascending together as
if time remains still
but no, five kids

between us, balding heads
failing vision, and all
the rest of middle
age, to think in
another fourteen we will

be sixty, how long
will the mountain remain
ours, before it nudges
us off fire roads, away
from crow filled branches

we look down on
Lake Lagunitas, that water
holding minutes like a
Jim Croce song that
lasts forever, then stops

Sabbatical

Thank you for visiting my website. I’m currently taking a break from writing in order to focus on meditation, prayer, and the reading of spirit-based texts. This break could last a day, a year, or who knows? I will let the silence tell me how to proceed.

Higher Power

we rarely speak
of God that
him her force
lives in heaven
forests oceans everywhere

we pray to
be always in
good stead with
each moment where
light is ours

this karma knowing
watching to see
if we are
truly in his
image like clouds

floating peace through
sky we try
meditating while walking
the quiet path
of constant love

and one day
may we arrive
wherever there is
union with all
that ever was

Typewriter’s Last Words

Please don’t leave me now
that you’ve seen the future.

My ink is real and you can touch
my paper with your hand holding

words, the ones pressed by my metal.
Permanent black rune, my tattooed

sentences offer so much more than
the screen, where mistakes disappear.

Delete, delete, delete-so easy to
forget all the missteps and time taken

to roll sheet after sheet. But each
letter, each tap, was your imprinted

mind. Go to the computer, but this
crumpled beauty, you will never find.