It is an April evening.
The sun is fading fast behind a forest of transparent trees.
I am a shadow, growing,
caressing the broken branches of a wind-shattered willow lying scattered upon the ground.
When they ask me why I did not attend the writers’ retreat,
I will tell them that I had something better to do.
I had to clean up my lawn.
I had to pick up the debris
of my life eaten from within
tumbled now by breath,
remnant of a tree
in the forest
of my soul.
April 17, 1999
Conversations spin on in the night without me.
They rumble in rooms I know not how to enter
and gather like sticky strands high up in dusty corners
where the wall and ceiling meet.
Caught up in the buzz, I hover above,
listening but not hearing the murmuring sound,
a fly with one shriveled ear and no compound eyes
torn between the almost-but-not-quite-lucid-word and the know.
I tremble on the web but the spider doesn’t seek me.
She remains in her lair to watch and to wait,
refrains from the poison bite while I am left to
wander among the cocooned carcasses of friends
blind and alone.
Written November 23, 1996 while at a Men’s Retreat
We were 12
and we came together
to peel back these masks
from our faces,
look deep into the
eyes of Man,
is any place
June 5, 1999
We discover ourselves by discovering the natural world, the outer ecology illumines the inner ecology.
We are to claim our place among the many and not destroy the household where the many live.
With the thought that I understand the other not simply for my benefit but for its intrinsic value.
I cultivate the other so that it can grow, reach its full potential, with the knowledge that the other cultivates me.
June 4, 1999
In thinking of growing things
it is good to remember not only that which has come into the light and is seen, but also what grows unseen in the darkness underground.
June 3, 2001
Who or what determines my greatness?
Power and powerlessness are mutually exclusive.
Follow my call?!
rather than the path to fame (but could be the same),
Self-control is greater than power over worldly affairs.
Retreat notes November 1996
Not everything revolves around me.
The only world I can really change is the small sphere called myself, within, and the places and people I touch daily.
Act from the depths of my heart,
building relationships rather than telling people to f*** off.
What finger(s) do I give to the annoying ones?