Category: poetry

The most beautiful thing

Early childhood Latter Day Saints storybook memory and how I learned that God was not a grumpy old man who spied on me from the sky. This piece is featured in Elizabeth Hellstern's interactive creation, the Telepoem Booth. 

Incarnation of Love

My friends had a handfasting ritual on their land the day after the Autumnal Equinox. As a group, we called in the directions with energies of love and joy and creation and gratitude. I was in the cardinal direction of the north and I wrote a poem for the ceremony. If you follow my blog you are aware ...


108 Days of American Sentence ~ Day 21 with Joan Baez

Let down my guard – split, shed my skin – Phoenix rise in my mind, no one sees. ~ Spring fever brain boil – thoughts drip moist (like) sweat from Tarzan's breast – salt on skin. ~ "Nasty Man" (©️Gabriel Earl Music, 2017) (words and music by Joan Baez)


108 Days of American Sentence – Day 18

Cold wet weight crushing old limbs already heavy with sap, springtime snow. ~


108 Days of American Sentence – Day 1

“Oh no! I’ll eat the shit out of anything!” he blurted — and she smiled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I think about America today - man, like I have no words. So I’m gonna make it simple, and maybe even mindful. For the next 108 days I’ll write at least one American Sentence a day. I don’t ...


Bell Blue: Dial-A-Poem ~ A Call for Work

Dear Energetic Readers and Writers, This year I was lucky to be part of an amazing project that started right here in Flagstaff, Arizona. I recorded five poems for Elizabeth Hellstern’s project, The Telepoem Booth, after she put out a call to writers last winter. By spring, the booth was up and running (and one of ...


Maggie and Jack

Been thinking about Jack Kerouac and Maggie Estep today. Bad Day at the Beauty Salon And Maggie's classic: I'm An Emotional Idiot. and: I'm Happy


Villanelle – Pressing Against Chaos

Wish I Were the Earth Wish I were the earth could open my mouth and swallow the blur. Turn a wail to a purr in my warm dark house if I were the earth. A natural re-birth on deep stable ground if I could swallow the blur. Wouldn’t leave me to murmur my pain in ...


sometimes you are helpless

Humid Breath is pulled from my lungs. My throat goes hollow every time a howling fire truck wails down the street. My throat goes hollow, I could swallow those anxious faces peering from the fire truck wailing down the street. It would be safer in my mouth— I could swallow those anxious faces peering, despite ...


riding the changes

While going through my things, I found this poem. I wrote it in 2005 while living in New York City. I made a couple of edits. It's a play off of a poem by John Ashbury.