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.
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,
Read MoreHeightened 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
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
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.
Read MoreRainbows and You
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.