Now we must stop to catch our wits

Now we sit to clutch feet

Now we smell camel snorts in bits

Now we link ears and noses and single eye entreat

Now we push each new starry spark in fits

Now we stop, we wonder, we fear East to meet.


But what is this gilded domed scaffed place

where we smell in hearing over one eye in maze

but for stalking guarded gate we could pace

where some whisper whistle seeks to gaze

but little while on New King, O Old King crace

where snaking fingers point to sword amaze.


Best we should go on another way still east

Lest guarded snaky fingers creep on nosey

Best we should sway into sun away from stable least

Lest ears flop back and eye roll up seem cozy

Best bumbly on littley nooning middley with beast

Lest west crown trick east crowns in dozey.


No, no, no go back

yes,yes yes go on

No,no,no show alley back

yes,yes,yes,crawl on

No,no,no give stable track

yes,yes,yes press on


Leave stable in west

Tell in starlight into east

Leave young child in west

Tell in soulquest into east

Leave child to carpenter best

Tell no herod no more rest


So star teaches friends of danger

So wise east men teaches at manger

So carpenter teaches Egypt to mother

So critters as one teaches each other

So leaning folk keening folk face the road

So telling, knelling, felling folk bear the load.






People think they are friendly

When they speak to themselves

In the mannequin images

Of those they think they know well–


In the postures of those

They think like them

In the waiting places of those who do not

Know themselves



Alone beside myself when

The first person who

Spoke to me out of

Twenty had just been

Pronounced a very good man

With a nod and a wave of judication

And just been corrected

By his wife allowing me in my corner


Back to prose thoughts of the day: many unanswered questions:

1)  What if you never received any social cues except the backs of people?

2)  What if my positive social cues are all online?

3)  How are violent domestic extremists not lonely?

4)  How can we learn to fall into the “right place” when we fall out of ourselves from being touched?

5)  Do the vibes from our hearts defeat gravity and radiate to other spheres when our fleshly heart ceases beating, where they will perhaps spark a light back to a dark hearth down the street, around the corner, over the hill?

6)  Regarding our essence: does the need to maintain a strong backbone defeat the development of a flexible wishbone (see: Clemtine Paddleford)?

7)  Isn’t it good enough to nurture a single rose for my garden and allow the rose’s sweetness and beauty to draw in that one friend to make the rest of my world, Leo Buscaglia?

8)  Will those preparing for the Apocalyse, carefully keeping blank faces, conserve their energy for refueling their lamps into the coming darkness?

9)  Will these skimping lamplighters succeed in nudging the timeline of their own conclusions backwards into their yesteryears?

10) Will these narrow lights of the straight-faced keep their lights shining on the details of their retreat into the storing places of their endeavors?

11) Will the door open at their approach to reconsiderations, or will it swing into the bodies of their deeds abraded by rushing past their brothers?

12) Do we dwell in shyness to be warm, and as we grow cold in loneliness, grow angry and warm ourselves with wrath?

13) Do we wave at just one other as we set about to hide so that one will knock for admittance to our self-absorption?


Profiling others bends our noses, squeezes our eyes, twists our mouths, so that we are unrecognizable at the gates and are left to wait by the firepit.


NOTE:  All of the above verses and questions are being prompted by:

1)  Occupy Wall Street

2) U.S. vs. three states regarding pending immigration laws

3) My own challenges in balancing the need to “wait” for “proper” social cues before speaking out and the need to steadfastly, firmly, gently stand on the side of justice.




Waking up on this weekend morning with only four-legged family members around, I realized how totally satisfying that was.  I actually liked the state of mind I was in, how I felt both physically and mentally.  I was well on the way to a successful morning meditation period.  Afterwards, I started planning this post, bouncing back and forth in time between a few childhood memories, many young-ish adult memories, and now.  Thankfully, for several years now, I have not edged over into minor angst when trying to understand why I have been most comfortable AND productive in my life when “alone”.  (Actually, that is when I feel least alone!)  Yet, because of my overly-developed verbal side, I have continuously been labeled a “people person”.  So, go figure.

Okay, first of all, my overly-developed intuitiveness shows me WAY TOO MUCH about other people.  For most of my life.  I became internally agitated by what I was picking up and allowed other folks’ stuff to tip me off center.  Thankfully, joining a wonderful, give-and-take, free-for-all Bible study group that is willing to process anything and everything has gradually built up quite a bit of spiritual “muscle” with which to successfully digest of that stuff from other folks.

So, it really was no accident that last week’s query about “the group home” should prompt such a rich harvest in my Truth Garden.  And yesterday’s immersion in all those folks waiting for the Homecoming Parade, whereupon I was rejoiced by portions of the natural world reflected in many of their eyes, was most encouraging.  I was able to zero right in on postive, productive “stuff” from those other folks, even though there were thousands of vibes bouncing around in my brain regarding their many quirks and much pettiness.

So, solo or in group, inner peace burrows in, making itself at home, allowing me to skip along on my journey to the Truth Mountain.  This mountain shelters Truth in such a nourshing manner that Truth is arrayed in only Blessing-Colors, with all the old hurtful fake truths scaled away by the bright lights of Inspiration, Wisdom, Peace.

WEDNESDAY: White Hair Pondering the Weird

Giving thanks to God that I am now comfortable being “weird” as a senior citizen.  So pleased I don’t fit statistical “norms” (who in the heck wants to be “normal”?)  It has taken too much hard work to get to this point just to be plain old vanilla “normal”.

But my brain-tickler for today is:  Why is my happy-to-be-eccentric self so intimidating to others that they might secretly wish I were in a “group home”?  Why is my “serving the community and being healthy walking and picking up roadside litter (much of it for recycling)” self somewhat threatenting to many around me?

Do they think I am scamming, somehow?  Could I suddently flip-out and dance, or sing, or speak blessings on all who pass?  WHAT? WHAT?

Okay, so if I am touching a long-forgotten spot in passerby’s psyches, could this not be a GOOD THING?

Alright, already–you’ve caught me red-handed:  maybe I DO want to make people stop and think!

But, honestly, I really do think cleaning up public spaces,recycleing, walking for exercise, leaving the vehicle in the driveway as much as possible, exhibiting public peace and joy in Creation are good ways to live.

I often feel each white hair was produced developing much of the above!

Besides, folks, my hair is not WHITE:  it is PLATINUM!


When Truth is Intimidating

Without insightful preparation and appropriate establishment of relationship, say between author and readers, some of the most valuable truths are just TOO MUCH, UGH!  Thank goodness for publicists, reviewers, agents, etc.  Also, as writer can do herself a lot of good by starting off, say, a narrative poem that is going to dig deep into the perceived psyches of the readers, with somethings like the following:

Flashing signposts of the aisles

In yesterday’s consumer circus

Lit up the back alleys

Of the Old Ones head

Newly banadaged from

The dispusted mango’s

Journey to the Center of the Skull

Revealing unknown Creatures of the Deep

Cracks within her self-concept.

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