Oh mother I am darkness, rich and seeded darkness.  A  mystery, a rhythm, a vine, the night. Like shadows between the imprints of leaves, piercing   through the well-worn paths, rewoven into dreams.

Drawing you back, drawing me down into ash and charred cremains.  I am the blackening into the kingdom of her sorrow,        discovering            her subtle footprints . Do not resist, knowing who you are, please do not fear whether you are doing all right....

I. Forming slowly. within it forms. Upon an empty spindle  empty if itself, of its various wanderings into unknown territories, burning in the field far behind. II.  To inhale, to exhale, breathe  swallowing forms,   assimilating, absorbing turning all things into...

What goes in is different from what comes out. The keys are in the living vessel.

Goddess is the wilderness: dense forests, her open skies the dry desert.  Her temple  a sanctuary buried deep within your soul. At the bottom of the labyrinth lay a seed. a tiny doorway into a vast open. Traveling downward,  descending    into the gordian knot,...

  Oh moon, great eye of the night. Sweet flame and light, gaze Radiant Across nocturnal hours, Oh moon  Solitary dreamer.

Thalia was a morning star, who   Lights the assembly. Her cartwheels spin in comet strokes, Creative whirl in rhythm speaks. A white winged dare. of delicate caprice and candor.  Thalia slew the solitary stone with Her elemental grace and grandeur.

Says the butterfly: Her pattern akin, to the riddle of Mercury. Says the dragon lizard fanning the trill sound about his throat. Says the charred turtle, round in my dream,her face carved invisibly into the wind, Her shell imbibed with primitive markings: The many...

  The flower is a vessel of transformation.  Flowers reminiscent of a song.  The butterfly closes her wings at rest.  Seeds like truth, grow into the magnificent, wise, and ancient oaks, deep rose red madrone, the manzanita  trees, the grasses,  poppies, and peonies,...

Our original seed or spark is woven into vow.   I am capturing bits of sun in my cup. I am drinking its daylight. Its warm honey nectar streaming Its golden amber warming my throat, oozing, Its thick golden liquid Seeps Into the intricate hollow chambers of the...

How sweetly sorrow opens, like ripe fruit in the morning.    

My house with its myriad altars, the ancestors, and the hearth fire burning, the darkness no longer as impenetrable a barrier for crossing over. The turning about, the moon, outside, a sliver of cool white fire, an edge through which midnight  imperceptibly enters....

  I imagine, I imagine, in the magic of a dream A small frog takes a journey and travels out to sea. In his tiny wooden boat, carved from a tree. He is a broken-hearted son of the wisdom tree.  Born in the hollows, in a richly seeded darkness. Moving forward from...

Even winter has its exuberance: white glow    moss and misty rain. 

                                                                                                                   " Imagination is tne inner shaping of invisible power."  Ivan Illich      Imagination like a flower, A strange flower. Anenome-like or peony-like, a...

            I allow my sorrow to deepen, when bear comes into my dreams  A young native woman brought him,  Like a shadowy hand of a dream. . .  so many deaths They whisper: He is the one who takes you down. He brings new forms and...

Seed wisdom is about how to paint flowers in the sky There is a seed hidden in the sickle of the moon and the moon can be seen as seed or eye. The sickle moon, as seed moon, as virgin moon, as first moon, as in itself moon. The green seed sprouts in the sickle of the...

The purpose of negative thought / feeling is to preserve the old . Provoke  fear, anger, envy, doubt,  providing a good home, a settled existence. The  old dream, a story we have been taught, to keep us in our places whether we will or not.  Why listen to the voice of...

  Not about her but through her is the eye of the needle, The thread of worlds move.  When demons are no longer demons. They become our true angels.   She . . .  who plants  a garden within my  belly, where I bask  in her green. This ultimate and simplicity. This...

With my inner ear I hear the pulse, beat, kernel, yoke, the miniscule point of her dancing.   A Great Red Flower dances wild and free From the deep of the sea, on plains and valleys, in the labyrinth of earth surrounding the heavens, she dances. Petals within...

In the forest there is a woman, she lives sleeping within a tree, curled up, she's dreaming, nestled within herself, her long black thick hair flows. Her many eyes look inward, her many eyes look outward from her deep inner longing: abysmal rhythm of her night. She...

I swim. . . with her in her emerald wilderness in the marrow  of her midnight sea. I drift through her forest of coral trees and shelled flowers. I move to her silent rhythm beating beating beneath the earth where she works her secret ways. I echo . . . her mystery. I...

I am capturing bits of sun in my cup.  drinking its daylight. its warm honey nectar streams through my belly. Its  golden amber warming my throat,oozing its thick golden liquid  seeps  into intricate hollow chambers of my heart.  Where a magic seed opens: sprouts....

Peony pink with a bonnet of  feathers Borne to peak in inclement weather. Bold, Be your stride. Why Passions do you hide, yet  To understand there is none to confide.   There are many flowers and beings I have dreamt,  painted, kept company with over the years....

I seek your untamed shores. Where fruit trees ripen, grown out of blackest marrow, ghosts echoes, whisper in the winds. Your sounds wait,yet to be sung. Your language is written into the barks of trees like holy words on tatttered pages. Life sap flowing through the...

I’m spouting. I must be dead to sprout. Spirit,      echo,    music,    play your fingers upon my heart, make me dance in your vibrating, pull my strings. I sprout colors: leaves of fertile summer, boundless pinks and yellows at dawn. Leaves growing out of my head,...

In the cool, fresh of the early morning, August Eugene, Oregon around 4am, before the sun begins to rise, the heavens open, into, . . .     an invisible eye. Slowly from the east, the edges melt, boundaries open and flow, whoever you are, whatever you have, know that...

  In the realm of the deathless a realm of light.  The serpent is the garden of paradise.  I who have lived submerged, a thousand feet beneath the ground.  Hemmed- in- on -all - sides,  yet embraced . . .   by the  heavens, look! See,  the brilliant gold of the...

I imagine the ancestors, as fragments of the dead, an old story. The bits and pieces of their remembrance. The blue-black body  of one  long gone, who year after year, in his dark embrace. each night, the myriad ones who, take me down.   I, who am absorbed, soaked...

The dark angel is the wilderness,  dense forests, an azure sky, the dry desert. Her temple a sanctuary, the eye within the soul.  At the bottom of the labyrinth, lies a seed, a tiny darkness; doorway into a vast open. What is it that washes through the shadows? When...

Oh wonderous tree, oh cloud! Oh wonderous jewel, Imagination!   

                          The seed lover is waiting to open, Dark warrior blossoms the root. Deep memory contains both seed and wing, As he flies on threads, transient and shifting.  

    There once was a giant asleep in the valley, he aligns with the shape and shadow of the valley. Awakening, he brings the untaught story. The darkening place, a chink in the cavern The narrow opening.  A whole in the middle of the earth, . . . falling through...

The ancient origin myth is a rite of passage-our story as original seed. Tell me your story. In our story is the original seed, our promise. Like the light of a new moon. Like a centuries old woman, hidden, her life, like the labyrinth, An echo perhaps, a memory, from...

There are serpents with feet of fire, they have wings and sharp teeth. They appear disguised in your dream, so  beware of the serpent her feet of fire with wings and sharp teeth. As she will bite you and remind you. To listen attentively consider more deeply the work...

Voiceless, gently rocking in the cradle of the breath, her grief absorbed by the nights loam, drawn into the earth, drawn down: She swallows whole: pebbles, seeds, bones, the branches, and roots. Embraced peaceably at the hearth in the bowels of the earth. The...

Wisdom embedded in the secret of the woods, in the silent brooding. The deep and the black: rhythm of the bark forming and shaping of knots and hollows. They are long and filled or low and open. To a hum and a song a laaaaaa and a daaaaaa the green temple, blossoms...

Death you are white snow in winter, cold  as ice where angels with lowered wings lie sleeping. I dream you are a great root, gathering seeds in still waters. A verdant  spring benumbed in winter. Oh death you are as white as full moonlight. An invisible  womb...

There once was a woman  who lived by the sea, uttering sounds alone in her hut. The dense cold air echoed back, by the cold, gray, emerald sea.  There once was a woman who lived in the mountain, quiet sleeping inside the mountain. For it was she who made the mountain...

At a moment of vision,  spirit woman begins to dance.  Hands like leaves, leaves Like fire, flames Blaze Ever upward, A wounded healer, dream being Dismembered, bearer of flowers Bearer  Of the mask, masked dancer. Winged, A channel of light. Bearer of gifts Of...

In my hand a stone evokes physical beauty- in dreams a magic presence. First borne of the sea---  unstable, like fire flowing. Stones are alive, they radiate outward from dark primal centers invisible to the eye. Inhabiting the forest, hills and streams, mosses grow...

  Oh homage to the scorpion, you Prickly and crustaceous, like a bright and white, pearly sun Curling up. This slender, scurrying across the sand, His sap as sweet ambrosia. To feast upon his own poison, bathing in the harsh light of the desert, relishing its...

  Around eight years ago, I had a dream about my teacher and then spiritual friend, Kyogen Carlson.  In our relationship as  disciple and teacher, we were very close.  I lived and practiced in the Dharma House on Madison Street, then close by the new property on...

In death we grow, change and pass through transfigured in a magical turning.   

In the alchemical tradition of Maria Hebraea, “Two are one, three and four are one, one will become two, two will become three,  and out of the third comes the one as the fourth.” [1]   Of things seen, of things heard, Touched, perceived, of things so deeply...

Anenome rose, Oh, daughters, of song, gesture, and color, A sun endows your petals proud. A jewel like sweet And harmony elite  Fair feathered foliage, Turn frivolous phrase. A honey filled sonnet with moonlight upon it. A sorrows glance. An elegies dance. Her waters...

      I walk through the woods: the simple act of stepping sounds    

The leaves of the squash plant, roughly textured and prickly. Arugula, wild and unruly, her patterned leaves taste bitter. Spinach seeds, --- cold, frigid, wet and dark. Lettuce, the radish seeds, tiny and round. Cucumber, cool like the moon, off white, . . .  a touch...

She is dark they say, the black goddess,  rich scum in a bottomless well of spittle and black voices, of old bones rattling, clanging, dancing the depths rising with the moon, reading our life with her stories.

Days pass one after the other, and yet. On  a gentle day  a starlit birth, my winter walks the moon lights blue. Impresses its image on virgin snow. All the while, look,  how white angel dust surrounds the moon, then, stars,. . .  like the mind  shines bright, ...