Tree Indeed

Tree Indeed
you planted me

I grow too short
beside infinity


you prune my leaves
you shape my song

you give me shelter
I’m in the sun too long


I drink your nectar
in the quiet of home

I whisper your name
I’m never alone


Tree indeed
I planted you

Seed in my heart
remains forever true.

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Big difference

That which is for you a poem for me is not,

that which is a poem for me for you is not,

that which is for you a truth for me is not,

that which is a truth for me for you is not,

that which is for you a peace for me is not

that which is for me a peace for you is not,

that which is for you love, for me is not,

that which is for me love for you is not,

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Heightened Brain Feathers

soft friend
I find you now
I find my end
in my blood-shot hand
in my fragile frame
I seek to stand
I write your name
with my stick in the sand
in the oncoming tide
my footprints are gone
pulled deep inside

Much Alive, Many Alone

the life that I see
Is the fruit on the tree
the bank has a branch
but the money is me

deep root of my heart
deep jewel on this ring
this marriage forever
this song
I will never
be able
to sing

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Begging for Peace

On my recent journey to Israel, one of the oddities of Tel Aviv was the sighting of the occasional beggar on the street. These seemed to take 3 forms: old women sitting beside lamp-posts, elderly hasidic pan-handlers with a bit of a crazy edge, and young penitents who situate themselves in a state of frozen prostration, on the leeward side of walkways.

This is an strange sight to see.

In North American cities, begging and pan-handling are synonymous – considered by the more cozy financially to be one of society’s major blights, sore spots.

The poor and the beggars have always been with us, in one form or another — at least in the so-called “civilized” societies of the post-tribal world. One imagines that in “tribal” times, all people had meaningful roles to play in societies where life wasn’t measured by accumulation and prestige.

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Rainbows and You

Watercolor Rainbow
In every color
the end of its brother.

In every color
the beginning of another.

Every color in its mother
I see the mother of every color.

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