Category: Living on Purpose

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Stella in the Starlight

Stella sticks her toes in the grass and she don’t knowthe impact — the moonlight bending on the bowingblades of grass, casting long shadows like tracks. I follow her, relaxed Stella don’t know her own impact. 

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Tandem

I seek solace in the company of cafe tablesand black aprons. Hair that sways, liquidly, under a rotating fan. I write in the companyof strangers, in order to be myself. As if I could hear the words from their lips instead of feel the conversation like a forest. As if it could not matter when the forest was on fireor still, peaceful in dew dreams under a rising … Read More Tandem

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On Judging a Poetry Contest

One finger tapping against an illusive white ceramic cuppa something—you don’t know—I’m a mystery, I’m the poetry editor. Illustrious task, these scribbleslaid bare to me, laid out like coffee spilled silent on the plate. Not too late to duck down into hiding, find a proper bunker. Fortunately good poetry chooses me, not I and I know in my heart

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Attempting to Make a Point

Poetry — what an objectively disagreed upon reality, filled to overflow  with such things like fringe combs  and metallic tea jugs. Best now to bring it to a boil, to set on  the balcony railing and let seep 

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Kaimana

With fistfuls of ocean, I scrubthe soles of my feet— exhausting flakes for the fish food watching the waves lose pieces in a fist fight with the breeze. I got a whole lotta sand to figure things out. The sun will wait for me patiently kissing umbrella cloudstil my blue towel be set near that low wall. Not for the first time do I wonder how long this will last.  Harnessing light from … Read More Kaimana

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On the Will to Move

Better to be an amateur. Better to gather knowledge like a drink from the river on a hot day, fistfuls of books and essays on life itself. Better to equip myself with “permission to continue”. I stand near my kitchen window in Oahu, listening to zebra doves on the telephone wires outside cooing to each other in the midmorning breeze. The mountain trade winds … Read More On the Will to Move

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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Washing Machine

  Grave diggers clear the drive way brushing aside gravel dustings and stately brochures the children in their homes where they should not be watch wearily eyes heavy with screen time soreness & hot lunches. O, to be young again! the young say

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Hiccups

  The artist at work in her studio the sweat running down dusted forearms the sun shining in through plated windows and the artist barely breathing. So barely hiccups happen hic ups interrupting the artist

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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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Monday Morning after a Storm

  What happens. What happens, when the cold morning breath of a foggy night slips under the covers and over the lips and bare feet stretch evenly over a woolen rug to a world that smells of light eucalyptus and an open balcony door — What happens.

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Phytophile

Beyond the ribbed panes of the kitchen window swings a gorgeous plum and yellow philodendron; sweeping lacquered leaves catch the breeze half in split leaf, half monstera, a good name for such a beast! She belongs to our neighbor, who carefully disregards her day after day, neutrally striving to feed her natural sunlight (9-9:30 a.m.) and a sprinkle of cloud water from the Mountains … Read More Phytophile