My name is Today

January 4 2013

It is the dawning of a brand new day

Light has its way with the sky…

Torus 

I hear the lone cry of a baby hungry and cold

I hear the rush of the cars pumping gas burning money fast

I hear the roar of an angry tiger in the brush

Too much rain Too much sun 

Not enough medicine to heal even one

Wake up to the World we say we want to save

Wake up the people that lay in the grave

Where denial is a name for a river they say

We are steeped in it roll around in it 

We are the mud dried from wind and stuck in…

Memory: Summertime 1957, four years old



Brush stroking hair warm freckled face I feel so special.  I get to sit in my tiny chair and get my hair brushed from the older boy who lives across the grass from our duplex.  I am one with the green grass and blue heavens.  I could be an angel flying upon the beautiful fluffy clouds that float in heaven like marshmallows’ without a stick.  Why does it feel so good to have your hair brushed by someone?  I never want him to…

Layering is a way of hiding ones self. Of tucking the self of the self deep down in the soil of ones own body and mind. Where no one will find her not even herself. Its where the bear hibernates in its slumber while nature dies down and the cold sweeps itself upon the land. And in the quiet sleeping love lays waiting for the day the parent self will remember the root and the branch of her life. But how can one remember that which is so repulsive. How does one awaken to the…