soul skin

I’ve been calling

prayers and feathers

out into the wind

for you.


I’ve been planting bulbs of faith

in the mud

of my patient

fire belly.

waiting through cycles

of life and death,

snowfall and spring

for the miracle

of rain.


Laurel and fern leaves chatter,

in applause

as the forest breaths

over moss.

she speaks,

something big

is coming.


A thunderstorm rolls

up against the mountain

over parched clay

and orange lillies

blue sky eyes

let loose in wet love

my rocks

are watered soft.


You’ve arrived.

Walked right into the skylight

of my own ribs,

of my poems.


I am in love

from the center of my heart

a place only God has known.

God, my Mother and Ben.

Ben, Great Spirit and Earth.

Mohonk Mountians, the Sky.


Thank you for hearing my prayers.

thank you for offering

coyote bones

on my doorstep

thank you for holding

wild flowers

in your arms.


thank you for all

that broke us both

into wholeness.

here, into oneness.


I am in love with you

from the clearest place

of Lake Awosting,

from the great mystery

of July’s dazzled sky.

I am in love with you

from deep knowing.

come be my Forest Wolf.

I am your Butterfly.


keep praying

keep opening

I will hold the vision and become

the kindest one

to ever let


through my hands

into your beautiful

soul skin


Every Spring

Every spring
my heart melts
with the mountain.
Awakened with the bears.
Keep opening, sweetheart.
Lessons come as rivers and as veins.
Be clear.
Be honest.
is your greatest tool to freedom.
Touch the earth with your beautiful heart
And sing.

i am asking

I am asking,
Help me give up all the beliefs
that don’t belong.
I am called back to the Light,
because the Light is where I came from.

As a spool unwinds into another,
what if -
instead of a human
I am a leaf
a fragment of a willow tree
a fabulous child of God
sipping life through colored hands
glowing gold with the sun
bending to receive
created from fire
born from stars
remembering the seed
sprung from caves
a crown of wisdom
that began before birth.





the teachings

Every agitation
brings a lesson.
some teachings come quickly
as a skinned shin in the shower.
others, the slow turn
of a wooden burl
into an offering bowl
beside bed.

When I was a child, someone told me
I sang off key.
what is the Great Silence telling me?


What are the teachings
of despair,
claw marks,
an abandoned friend?

I love myself,
and I forgive you.

Our wounds whisper,
howl and stab.
I must own mine
to let them go.
Every prayer becomes faith
that transforms a fight
into radiant light.
Walking into God,
we become one another
we become one other’s healer.

Each child,
a sacred sanctuary,
forever and ever
coming home.






twelve steps home

The only job I truly have

is to keep

coming home.


In the center

of my being, is a tiny thread of gold,

an eternal cord

into the heart of spring.

as simple as

the snowflake,

a tear, then mist.

we are each

a drop of water

falling into

this sacred sanctuary of life


onto the child’s tongue,

through a sister’s eye,

feeding the forest roots at dawn.


The trunk

the leaves

reach like veins of a lung

towards the core of the sun.

as melting snow transforms

a crystal into waking breath,

from mist

on the face

of a lake

into sacred sky.


As your entire life

comes home.

as your entire life


with Love.


In the darkness

of winter and ice

we come as a circle of women.

we come down off the shelf,

opened and singing.


an only child finds a sister

a buried child finds her breath.


together, we unpack

the mystery of our fathers

lovers, mothers

untying broken shoes.


we offer in our set of tools

pencils, stories, drums and oars
shelters, songs, maps and bread.


energy lost becomes energy found.

we are shepherds

and we are the sheep.


together we hold

hearts in the snow.

in this circle we feel our dreams

and burn our demons.


The Tribe of Light

Circle of Women

Warriors of Love.


one voice becomes a choir

digging deep into the earth

picking bones, licking wounds

pulling brush,

planting seeds

untying knots of weathered hair.


bearing witness

blessed and blooming

we wash our feet

in tears.


steps come to be a dance

this dance becomes an arch

through this arch

we find The Way

and migrate towards the sun.

the sun becomes a loaf of bread

body, then a hand.

each hand has a tool

these tools become an army

a thriving tribe that will survive.


the fur, tail, lungs, the heart

all create the wolf

each piece becomes the whole

the whole becomes the leader

and that leader

becomes One.


I have been learning how to die,

it is quite a beautiful thing, to let go


My body is for you.

She may have it, the Earth

my have it.

Water, please take some. 

Friends, please have some too. 

It is yours as it is mine, really.

As air

as it is bone, really.

What we are left with, after the giving

is my Light, in love with your Light.

While we both ignite and practice 

Alive, dying. 

Alive, dying.



Becoming Dawn

The first glimpse of daybreak

cracks through cold branches,

an inhale of sweet bliss

after the lingering silence of winter.

The soft bloom

of our light returning

as a woman,

an opened iris wing

through the washed depths

of weighted stones

at night.


All is well. All is reborn.

All is so alive.

sober snow

There is darkness

some afternoons

as the sun begins to blink

back behind the shoulders 

of the black mountain.

It calls to me, 

this darkness licks my ankles


come to the tip

of the slippery top step,

let's teeter and test

the density of emptiness

falling underground.


Then there is the light

singing from the soft curves of snow.

I am having a love affair

with God. 

The sweet honey of belonging.


She says

Dear child

you are loved. We are

always breathing.

Step into the sovereign snow

of sacred stillness.

We will thaw as one,

into spring. 


I have never loved the winter

quite as fully 

as I now love

this sober snow. 

conversation with an owl

it happened

on south mountain road

whirling home

by bike 

in summer. 

i was falling towards something, careening downhill

absorbed in the beauty

of this aloneness

a frontier unfolding like a wing

a wing


she dove across

the road

my forehead met her feather

we could have collided

one sweeping touch

of sacred

into the other.


in that moment

our prayers combined.


Don't be afraid of who you are becoming.

Listen deeply

and meet yourself, who is

Your Companion.


i turned to face her.

she landed




Love your darkness, lean in

with alert and patient eyes.

What we are made of

will in turn

be born

into something new. 






blooming a woman

The earth is a womb,

my womb is an altar.

come, let's pray. 


the body, this body

a garden rooted to the core

of a sacred rising sun.

under thick folds of fresh snow,

a rose blazes from my heart.

a golden heart, the heart of the deer.

the lioness, the condor, the moon.

each bloom, an untangled gift

an open blessing

a sparkle arc

a rainbow bridge

to God.

blooming a woman

blooming holy

blooming nourishment

the sweetness of being wild

with curves of the miraculous forest.


the earth is a womb

my womb is an altar,

come, let's pray. 

dance open with wings of

ancient hummingbirds


come, let's pray. 

breathe trees

We split like the slice of an apple

skinned in shock,

stunned open

teetering on the Birdseye maple

cutting board.


Drop the metal shards, words.

Drop the armor of fear, fists.

Drop Everything. Even your dreams, 

your hopes,

the unborn,

the thick cloak 

keeping the frost from the last stems of basil.

Let it burn cold at dawn

and wilt back

to the tender place it began, 

among bones.


Breathe trees. 

Lean towards the light, where love is

not where it isn't. 

Clear cut the cord

that ties you to anyone 

or anything

frightened to meet the Magnificent,

unwilling to claim your devotion,

your sacred heart

among tangled weeds.


This will be the last time 

we breathe life into our failures.

The path is an elegant branch,

it curves,

spiraling deep into the center

into the place you never left

into the place you are



7th step medicine

I have been darkness. I have been vacant and cold. I have been torn from the wall, I have been crumpled into a ball and tossed to the fire for heat. I have been angry. I have been shot with arrows. I have been sliced apart, I have lost my voice. I have been silent. I have been deaf. I have been blind. I have run away. I have cheated, I have chased, I have lied. I have punished, I have been ashamed. I have been afraid. I have been lazy. I have taken what wasn't mine to take. I have used you. I have used you again. I have been selfish. I have watched myself die. I have been numb. I have been picked from a tree, I have been pulled from the sea. I have been cornered. I have used my teeth. I have used my claws, my lips, my tail, my fingers. I have fallen to the ground. I am compost. I am earth. I am ash.

I hand it all over to you, Great Spirit.

I am Ganga, I am water. I am breath. I am the spark of a match, I am here. I am a woman. I am whole, I am breath. I am enough. I am Durga. I am Lakshmi, Hanuman. I am the Phoenix. I am service. I am service. I am humility. I am vertical. Upright. I am the witness. I am the baby deer, I am the black bear, the porcupine, the panther. The moth. I am endless sky, I am snow. I am moon. I am lake, I am leaves. I am food for the family. I am warmth. I am a conduit of light. I am song. I am art. I am a lover. I am a sister, a daughter. I am a mother. I am grace. I am feather, I am fur, I am bone. I am a listening. I am forgiving. I am opening. I am trusting. I am giving. I am letting go. I am loving. I am loving. I am loving. I am arms. I am legs. I am eyes, lungs, hands, feet, yoni, belly, breath. I am the owl song, the coyote cry. I am rainbow. I am seeds. I am sewn. I am growing. I am freedom.

Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for teaching me. Hearing me, tasting me, holding me. Taking all and forgiving me. 

Thank you. I love you. Thank you. 

sixth step IN


In from the downpour

combing knots from tangled hair,

turning fear

of the unknown 

into beautiful faith.

turning shame

into bottomless grace.


the stories I've told

my entire life -

tonight, I will bury these books

in a field, let the pages

soften into soil

as flesh off the bone

to nourish mushrooms,

sweet peas and mint.


after pain

the breakthrough comes

through a sip of water.


my heart,

a deer in the forest,

has been offered completely

to God.

the god hole


who is that walking from the fog

I think it's God

coming out of a mystic's heart

coming out of tall pines

deep within canyon lines

of my own hand.


fierce as Lightning

gentle as Moth

cracked as Egg

breathing as Hummingbird


as Buffalo.


You, were in me all along

singing tenderly


then into

a basin of blue

this woman's eye

the entire sky

of us.


I surrender

I surrender, Great Spirit.


God, what keeps you out

and keeps me in

has passed through

the screen door

as rain.


There is a name

for the empty place

in the heart of us

to be filled

with grace -


The God Hole.


my shield, the fortress


My shield, the fortress

has lifted with the night sky.


you have free range

to aim

and see my heart.


i hold two needles

one in each hand

steering the points towards one another

and they

have finally


connected a miracle.


this is sobriety.


a compass in hand, it has twelve steps.

an ore and a boat and a rudder.

God is the wind, the sail

the water.

this is

living sober.

sailing among the stardust

of all we will become.

there is a garden

by the front of the house

on the shoulder of the stairs.

it's been wild and wondering.

i've begun to tear it of her weeds.



God fills this garden

and herbs begin to grow

into a Goddess.  


I am sprigs of basil

on the kitchen counter.

I am the illuminated,

fragrant earth.


The Praise of breaking


Come see my heart,

now the real work begins.

This love belongs to the moon.


Your pendulum swings

a machete through the soft poppies

a guard rail into the truck

I was driving

across the continent

in search of sacred water.


Take out your tools, woman.

Build a boat.

Sage the hearth.

Gather your poems, books, arrows, God

your art meditations

and drum

the heartbeat back

before the baby deer

was ever born.


Praise praise praise

Father Sky

Mother Crystal Cave

for the gift of a broken bough

into this sea

of you and me.


Feel the wholeness

of my own beautiful hands

which are the truest makers.

I am stronger than my lungs and bones.


The teachings come

from upturned soil.


Even this deep ache valley

will lift the warrior heart

into another realm of

open peak.


We are each filled

with innumerable Gods.

A Sacred Goddess is

Her own heart's witness

Internal mystic,

a being of light

eternally and evermore

Her own.

possibly magnificent


Where is the light in the heart tree

of me?

At the edge of the woods

under a white sky

beyond dark, muddy paths

and months of tired, worn snow


I touch the bark

kick up leaves

scouting for signs

of maple

between the ash, tulip and oak.


I've never tapped a tree before.

I've been living dormant,

an inkling of magnificence inside.

I've been told light will come

at the thaw of dawn

when I turn my will to God.


Drill a hole, hammer spiles

set buckets on eight

thick, calloused trunks

and wait for warmth

to call up threads

of slightly sweetened sap,

to awaken rivers

of illumination.

Awaken something

back into life

that is

possibly magnificent.


Possibly more than I alone

have known

with my single


and stirring

sprung heart.

To the Tender Man


To the Tender Man

On ghee

Hosting his ancestral pain.



I’m singing through


Ink black nights

As glitter

On the crest of a wave.


I’m calling with the lion tribe


Outside the mouth

Of your healing cave.


We ask the birds


To wrap you in their wispy wings

The snakes to pull the thorn,

The whales to swim

Your diving heart to shore.


You know this Earth is female.


Her endless arms are Gold.

She is alive within you,


she can hold.


Rest in her


Your body, love

Let the broken, be.

Rest in her

Your suffering

Open the deepest the scars

To see.


Kneel into her,


The kindest place will come

From within your own heart

And you never

Have to run.