My Big Fat American Burrow

In a house formerly inhabited by
ten Buddhist nuns and forty Dachshunds
There now live two
wonderful women, their son, age
two and a half, a dog that never
barks, three black cats that I can’t tell apart to
save my life,
the lady who rents the
basement, with her
computer and exercise tapes,
and me, with my guitar and enough clothes for an army
Not to mention the numerous
friends, visitors, and the occasional cable guy

A full house to say the least,
But one with good, warm energy
That of a holiday gathering, every day of the week
A family reunion of perfect strangers
a family without the problem child, and the alcoholic
One with cat litter, dog hair, and love in every corner
If you’re feeling lonely
go upstairs and listen while she reads to him
If you need some inspiration, just sit and
observe the voices of the children coming from outside
Or the murmur of feet on the floor boards above
Take note of the rhythms of the house
the comings and the goings of each
tepid being within the walls of this
old abode

As I write these verses,
one fuzzy creature purrs beside me
Tail curled around my arm,
taping softly to the beat of some
internal musician
Our breathing becomes one and we synch, subtly
BAM!
The front door hammers open, and screams of joy
hit the ceiling
Flexibility, and grace, I must master these traits –
learning to love and adapt to constant change

Visit: an official call paid for the purpose of inspection.

According to the books,
I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.
A place ranked third in the world for destination weddings.
A place of healing and renewal.
A place one can find it all – outdoor adventure, vacation resorts, healing energy, and beautiful scenery.

According to me,
I live in a small town in Arizona.
A place where people come when they’re in denial.
A place to try and loose oneself, only to be found out as a fraud.
A place of beautiful, picturesque landscapes, pockmarked with mansions the size of a Super Wal-mart, and that’s about it.

Let’s compromise.
It’s a nice place for a visit.

This Morning

As I waited to turn right onto the highway this morning,
I watched the passengers of cars in transit.
With the sun in their eyes, most squinted, some scowled.

Observing these unsuspecting individuals,
glimpsing scraps of their everyday lives,
I felt a combination of ordinary and special.

To knew I was not alone on this planet.
No matter what we say, we cannot live without the company of others.
And yet, we pride ourselves on denying it.

I like to think I’m independent,
but when push comes to shove,
I always get home sick when I’m half way around the world.

Even as I get older, I don’t feel like I’m growing up.
Seeing these faces pass me by, on the road,
I felt odd, as if I were eves dropping on humanity.

There’s no edit button on life.
cntl. alt. delete does not exist.
This is it, as it is, here and now.

With the sun shining on our faces,
we wait, I wait, I wait
for traffic to change, so that I may merge.

I’m impatient,
I take a chance, and as the cars thin,
I gun the engine and take off.

Finding the Love of the Divine

A Sister’s love is easy to feel, for that love
has been present since before the time of birth.

However the love of God, is a little more
challenging to find.

As her hands rubbed the mother’s belly, telling
the being inside, “I love you,”

there was a mutual feeling of adoration exchanged.
But the hands of God, were harder to come by.

These sentiments of love we
have for each other are evoked in every moment.

Whether I am consciously
thinking of you or not, our love is permanently shared.

You were there for my birth.
You held my tiny hands, you washed

my infant feet,
you smiled at me throughout the years, always

with love in your eyes.
I feel the presence

of The Divine, yet still, sometimes
I loose sight –

I am only human, after all.





The way of love is not
a subtle argument.

The door there
is devastation.

Birds make great sky-circle
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?

They fall, and falling,
they’re given wings.

- Rumi

Close Encounters of the Poisonous Kind

102º and there’s a scorpion in my bathtub.
Too hot to care, or worry too much.
I put an empty flowerpot over it, and hope to death it dies,

without applied pressure.
How do you kill a hard shell anyway?
A shoe? Something toxic,

perhaps?
How about some really strong
bathroom cleaner? Or hair spray?
Sounds like animal abuse and torture

to me…
But could I really sleep at night knowing that
it’s out there, scuttling

around, and could possibly get back in!?!
It’s my fault, I left the
window open without any screen.

But tomorrow it could appear in my living room.
Or
my

bed.