Category: Gratitude

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Surf Guru’s Three Rules

The waves on south shore Oahu are limp during the winter months. Adrenalized surfing doesn’t take place until April (really mid-May), when surprise swells from the Tasman Sea rip into the bays of Waikiki and Ala Moana. Sudden waves barrel on top of longboards, chipping them against the coral heads exposed during low tide. And such a surprise swell last April!

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The Road to York

  Days ebb into days again nothing so precious all chokeholds relax — I feel the spring breeze become the spring breeze the warmth of the morning sun the morning sun. With my eyes so rid of this fixity, I see peripherally —

Announcement!

Available in paperback and e-book, Articulated Soul is a collection of 50 poems in five categories (Kansas, Austria, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Hawaii). These poems catalogue the many fragrant emotions of living abroad on one’s own, the sites and smells, the insecurities. Supplementing the angst are 25 original collages, expanding the metaphor of influence and creativity. Grateful acknowledgment is made to the editors and … Read More Announcement!

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Righting It

  Did you ever think you could live this long? That the tongue which rattles the potato-burn ridges of gum would grace the scoop of inner teeth to say love? That love could hold your hand for twice as long as you let it & still remain to brush teeth together in the cool evenings —

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Still Life with Figs

    I know about the dough in the oven. Hot and wild tempered left a little too long on its own, I know the shoots and bangs and whirls the catastrophize the inner workings of my Bosch broiler. With tiny white rings on the brown crusted boule I know the tilt of the rise, the slashes I placed the claws in claws out. … Read More Still Life with Figs

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From the Balcony

  Bird says, “set the coffee here, please and oranges if you have them.” Between green wings, that of a bamboo shoot so light green it’s almost wilting, Bird grasps the white ceramic handle and lifts the mug to his beak. From his high perch

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Pronunciation

  Valerian gardens, gardenias in the rosebushes sunlight twilight and mountain rain makes everything grow like this. Tricolored notebooks rest easy on the table near me and the door opens once more. The door opens. Has been opened. Will be opened.

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On Waking

  Dawn possesses this verse; she who dazzles finger in the forenoon gushing abundant the vertical blinds. Daylight grasps for duvet covers, trembling, quaking I howl and go round & round. Good morning star, she notifies, & I behave.

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Cafe, 1 a.m.

  Weary eyes opened wide propped up on toothpick espresso cups licked clean, licked smart the woman in the wide-brimmed hat warm breath, wild thoughts tells us of visions, the dessert dunes camels in hand Mount Tahat in the dust kicked up no way! some shout    get outta here!

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A Small Swell on a Thursday Afternoon

  I hold up my hand. The light breeze swifts a droplet of ocean onto my chin and the twinkling lights of a Waikiki late afternoon cruise beneath my epoxy board.

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On Writing a Poem in the Morning

  green mint tea seeps around the rim of the garden plate ductile : serpentine I set the cup down and it clatters. It’s about how to see the things how to get to the vision the tea cup is significant and not a step in that direction.

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Don’t Give Up on Me,

  ‘cause I want to do two things : first try to show that life finalizes itself on the threshing floor, engorged with a life- time of self-thinking thoughts and self-sinking assertions.