Yoga Poem 1: Hanuma

I am no monkey god,

but I am hopeful of magnificence

Hanumanasana the body bends in two;

& I am willing to trust that,

under the right desperation,

I someday will leap the canyon;

Not today. Not with leggings on…

Hanuma the monkey god

knows the depth of deception

knows the self can be a cruel adversary.

The monkey god knows not of his deity

only of his body – asana – posed

on the mortal coil. The monkey god

in desperate attempt to make the jump

is magnificent with Hanumanasana;

the body bends in two.


Poem 159

Fallen Out

But of course it didn’t

It’s just the decay of time;

Things will get broken

People came back, hundreds even

Picked up their tinderboxes and

Filled their pantries and lived

There in the shadow of the mountain

And felt no sweeping graces, touched

Every brick in their homes and knew

No simpler word for god than power

In their wax shoes          the wrong size

Poking holes in the mud and

Watching them fill with water

Or bugs or radiation. Sometimes

Calculations won’t tell you everything

Sometimes there are uneque circumstances

We witness with wide open shoulders

Catch the moment in out chest

And beat it to death with our single-hearts

And we tried it again and again and it

Was never the same as the first time…

We were safe, then

No simpler word for god than power


Poem A Revised

On Modern Art
No matter width or stickiness
oil on cloth— motivates brushstrokes
to static-electric telepathy
between minds. Where one eye sees
a woman and the other sees a waltz;
where the two are one. Not a woman
waltzing but the dichotomy of
impossibilities. A body. A dance. A hand.
A brushstroke. Artists painting paradoxes:
Neither dancing nor standing still.