New Year’s Post

Last year, January 2nd, 2015, I wrote a blog about the new year and new beginnings (and new blogging). Clearly, it takes me a long time to get around to writing anything but poetry. Here we are again at start of another new year, 2016, already turning down the lamp on our night stands.

Today is the first day of the accepted New Year, but darling, start where you are. Start whenever, however many times. You decide the first day of your new year, each day, with your own choices and intention. Never be afraid to start. Never wait. And never be afraid to start again.

Wishing you a wonderful beginning, wherever you are.

Yoga

I am not in love with the muscle of yoga
though I find it beautiful
the vitality pushed forth through daily dedication
bodies growing stronger, enduring longer
circling tightly, moving steadily
it is their form of beginning

I am not in love with the ritual of yoga
though I find it comforting
my ego and my truth desire no more repetition
than raising my arms to the sun
however many times it rises
my exhalation of silence the only chant
I need to focus

I am only in love with the invisibility of yoga
the magic building through vein,
tissue and breath
the awareness that lifts up, out, and deeply
inside of both body and neither mind
that becomes the union and dissolution
of what has never been but always will be
accessible, eternal, aware

I am in love with the meditation that is yoga
the letting go that holds on
even when the practice has passed.

Read Them Goodnight

Would I warn them?
in the stories I could write
Paint pictures of the pain
they will feel
Explain with sunsets the loss that awaits
Create characters of the confusion
that lies before them
Or would that book
that tome of future preparation
created in warning
only introduce them to an experience
they already know?

 

A.Ault

Looping Miles Between Us

What a gift it is
to hold you
the softness leaving no space
between us
Grateful presence
becoming backs of wrists
curving sounds
and drifting moment to moment
Each step, conversation
in sunlight
leading wherever it is
we’re going
however many miles loop
between us

You have stretched
the blink before the cold
and filled coming storms with the possibility
of warmer nights ahead.

The Mountain Ahead

There was a mountain ahead
I must have passed it
Maybe I got turned around
spun wild in this wind
but I know I am heading north
There is sky above me
sunlight twinkling with nighttime
specks peering out from dark blue

Maybe I am on the mountain
the slope low, moss cushioning
dusty rocks
In this shadow of the moon
I cannot tell
but the air is clearer
the sky, wider
the silence filled with sounds of life

Maybe more mountains are ahead
I cannot see them
I can only feel gravity moving
time pulling
and that between ground, air and I
there is nothing

Maybe I am the mountain tonight.

Paris Is Not For Lovers

Paris is not for lovers
I have ever been there alone
the streets are beauty, bustling
Eyes up and weaving through
no room to grasp a hand
Home of wandering, watching
How else could art so bloom?
Lonely souls, feet rolling over and over the same streets
quiet in the same corners
It’s the Seine of dreaming
What could manifest,
that would leave and remain the same?
Only the fog of feelings past and possible
rise above a horizon like home
Only moments alone
give the city its breath.

Love may take me to Paris
but a lover never will.

I Carved Out Stars From the Sky

I carved out stars from the sky
that melted in my hands
flung buckets into the waves
to hold all the salt
Planted rocks between grasses
trees on top of mountains
I buried every cloud that slept
The sun caught me sleeping
until I built shelter with books
and then even the moon came to drink
at my table.
Stars became weary watching the horizon
mop up the night
I sent up satellites to entertain them
but the moon left me to count
blinking lights
So here the sun and I stand
jealously awaiting the moon
Sharing a desert that burns
as it cools.

What Wave Ever Ends?

Skin, sun-soaked sweat
heat chills and echoed sand
exfoliant of the gods
and modern elixirs of life,
youth, and beauty
the chemicals will still kill us
without the sun

A dull ache in my inner ear
for a sound grown silent, departed
No wind can carry it this far
sacred roaring cannot be heard by human ears
but I feel it, so I wander
It is traveling through the sand, slowly,
traversing soils it doesn’t understand
the softest of touches, reaching, under my feet
and I am not apart from it
What wave ever ends?
In the stillness, I can feel it,
not enough, never, so far away,
but my feet, in the ground, know it
brushing lightly, the silent roaring
of the ocean’s heartbeat

Sweet, but a hint of salt
breathing, breezing by my nose
My heart remembers as quickly as it goes
shining connections in memory.

5.26.14

New Moon

List-maker
day-watcher
good-thinker
sleep through the passing
of time

Shape shift
to a morning
covered in smoke
burn further and brighter
than before

Blue spokes
jagged wheel
empty paint
can’t bring me to where
I could go

Wish harder
wash longer
wash only the floors
and the walls will keep
dripping on you

Follow moonlight
drink birdsong
challenge each crow
until the hawk  speaks 
who I am.

Bury the Seed

Day 30 Prompt: Bury the _______

“Bury the Seed”

Bury the seed
let it slide down your palm
land softly under this tilled soil
We will water it
or not
The seed will sprout
or not
And if it sprouts
we’ll watch as it grows
we’ll learn the longevity of green
We will tend it
or not
We will eat from it
or not
But bury this seed
only then will we see
only then will we know
or not.