You Are Not Who You Were

  • Posted on: 26 November 2015
  • By: Joe

You are not now who you were

like the river to the sea
like the sun's journey from east to west
this flowing never stops
this movement never ends
although you are fearful
and back away

the Holy One
is the Guest
and the Guest
is you

You thought you were a drop of water --
now you're the sea

You thought you were the sun --
now you're the light


Coming Closer

  • Posted on: 30 October 2015
  • By: Joe

I've heard you
in a blackbird's song
in the dark of night
in the whispering wind

can you hear me?
are you coming closer?

I've seen you
running with the deer
sleeping with a bear
swimming with the salmon
in the rush of the river

can you see me?
are you coming closer?

I've dreamed you
in the coyote's howl
the eagle's flight
the raven's caw
you're the flow of the slipstream
the song inside all
I search for you everywhere
can you hear my call?

do you dream me?
am I coming closer?

On the Rooftop

  • Posted on: 20 September 2015
  • By: Joe


On the Rooftop

in the center of the

in the center of the

surrounded by

and the far off invisible

standing on the rooftop
above the winding stair
I see in all directions:

the rising and crumbling

the smoky haze over the 

the five-colored prayer flags

the piles of broken wood and
    corrugated iron

and above it all

the curves of the stony
the sun setting
    behind them

with endless light

and endless



Indonesian Dreads Singing Marley

  • Posted on: 8 May 2014
  • By: admin

under a bare 100 watt bulb
in an old hotel in Yogyakarta
on the island of Java
paint peeling under exposed wires
laundry piled under
soot-coated pipes

filtered through cigarette smoke
and beer glasses
in the cool midnight air
to the rhythm of one guitar

in soft voices
filled with longing
we sing
long into the night
these songs of freedom

Poet's Walk

  • Posted on: 8 May 2014
  • By: admin

on the walk
across the Brooklyn Bridge
I lost the group
when they turned off
and I
hurrying to catch them
on the Bridge
somehow passed them
walking by myself
arriving in Brooklyn
ahead of them all

sometimes you think
you've fallen behind
when you're just somewhere else
on the road--
you think you're lost
when you're already

perhaps at the point
of the Bridge
where you first see
or when you are no longer
on one island
but not yet
on the other

you're afraid you've lost
the way
when the way is right
before you
winding back
to where you began:

the child rocking
in the cradle--
the boy standing
on the beach--
the man swimming
toward the shore--

swimming still