Sitting II

Cookies gone
The bag is empty
Sitting there
all used up
Tasty snacks
in my belly
Hot cup of tea
sitting on the
shelf of my mind–
Oh, how I kind of want
to make you



Completely lost
in the Dynamo of
deep breathing
I feel I’ve made it
when the air blowing
in and out of my nostrils
has become cold
The omnipresent force
flowing in its purest form
I chant the mantra OM
and close my eyes
and drift away–

This glorious day

Sunday morning giggles
You jump on me
The original bouncy seat
Your smiles
So pure
How could a thing bother me
on this glorious day?

To become one

Sudden changes
in the morning surge–
We wake up with
plans so sure we’d
leave the house together
I cannot take the pain
of time and long car rides
and anxieties I conjure
in my head–
What if she doesn’t sleep
and what if she cries too much–
What if I get bored and
don’t know what to say
at the round table?
The fears escalate coming
to a ricochet in my mind
spiraling up and down like
tepid lollipops circa 1985–
The clock gives some reprieve
and you come back from
buying bagels and allow
me another chance.
We leave the house
a whole day ahead
and traffic is looking good,
vibes are feeling fine.
Three hours later and
it’s nice to see our elder
and it’s nice to see a new lodge–
We bow down at the opening
of the womb and pray in
suffer in unity
forgive in solidarity
I hear his message channeling
from above and am in gratitude
as I watch him later
in the evening play quietly
with my daughter.
I think to myself
I am glad she chose this circle
I am so glad as a celestial being
she made this decision to join us,
this hoop
this sacred fire
this burning love
this spiritual journey
The Read Road
to become one–


Baby cries
and whimpers
throughout the night
The twinkling stars
shine down on her
The moon reflecting
beams on the ocean sea
the kitties yawn
the daybreak seems
to wrap us up in
its perfect dream–


Waiting for the
pizza to come
the baby naps
in the dark
her small round head
shifting ever so slightly
mouth pursed
looking quietly for
the paci
drifting in and out
of a tiny person’s
sleep cycle
while we sit
dreaming of cheese
and crispy crusts
the lost and found
a high school crush–

In the Sea, Christmas Time

Hanging dangling
angels from a tree
Whisper willow
secrets unto me
Hidden lights
and snowball fights
and unbeknownst
tears alight–
Walking down this
picture lane
of memories
of sights ablaze
The neighborhood
still reminds me
of all the dreams that’ll never be
of all the tiny Christmas trees