The Gatekeeper


Michelle called, asking to speak with Anne’s sister, requesting that I visit her.

She is a wild angel, injured, bad, on a motorcycle, 20 years ago.

She lives in the nursing home

Where my sister lived before she died.

She sits in the dining hall, always in the same seat

And you can ask her where someone is and she will tell you.

She is the gatekeeper of Mesa Vista!

My visits with her are always brief.

She wants to know if I am coming to her birthday party ( it’s in September)

And we talk about the painting I made of her which hangs behind where she sits.

Then she tells me she loves me

And I tell her I love you Michelle.

Music actually happens in the space between the notes.











Tao We Two Ching

J and S in Grand canyon

The way you can go isn’t the real way.

The name you can say isn’t the real name.

Heaven and earth begin in the unnamed:

(name’s the mother of the ten thousand things.)

So the unwanting soul sees what’s hidden,

and the ever-wanting soul sees only what it wants.

Mystery of all mysteries!

The door to the hidden.

There is no “other”


“My How Lucien has Grown” A Wintercount


I count the winters like a Lakota,

An annual image of the year  2018

“Lucien sets the star and Jean Pierre hangs by his knees.

While Willow attempts to quiet their glee, “Shhhhhh”


Everything matters and everything is personal.

A Lakota grandmother would of sent us out the door for the day

With this instruction, ” Watch and take note of everything you see,

the animal that crosses your path or a bird,

“What direction did it fly”?

All is a communication to the Self, an inter-face between worlds.

Like that hawk you saw  sitting in the tree,

Pay attention, Little Lakota.  Messages abound!







Hitting Bottom


Hitting Bottom,


The self is a sneak  through a narrow gate.

Ignore the skull and cross bones

And enter the place where you’ve got no answers

You have no way to make things better,

You have come to an end.

You see that your mind is insane.

And this is the good news,

For now you might reach out and ask for a miracle

Not one that you make but one you finally know to ask for.









Trust me,

Your  first moment of connection to the sustaining love, to faith

That you do not control.

Then the request for the miracle that you do not create






Eyeeeeeee, ya ha

bear, night cam

Eyeeeeeee, Ya Ha,    look at this being, the BEAR,

kind of wonderful (and terrible)

to see a face that so represents  my own inner most vulnerability.

Ultra sound photos of the not yet born

or the bear at night or me,

Freshly hatched back into the world, with not enough layers,

Back from 21 days in the Grand Canyon, bouncing on her river

where the Big Kahuna rules with kindness

Every moment.

I naturally submit to that which is greater

As John says, on bent knee.

Bear Poop

13 18x18

There was a glorious pile of fruit filled bear poop

Near our front door this morning

It stirs the imagination, whispering, “Bear”

Now if you will bear with me, while I reach for a metaphor.

My calling card may not always be pretty either,

But the connection between us, as creatures, is surely welcome

and fruitful.


I love you just the way you are

sarah's bird (2)

Imagine my surprise when I realized that the tune I’ve been singing over and over again

was  not  for some “other” “out there”  but meant for me, like a secret code,

I’ve been  singing these phrases,  making the best kind of promises.


“I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could of come this far

I took the good times. I’ll take the bad times

I take you  just the way you are”


“I said I love you and that’s forever

And this I promise from the heart

I could not love you any better,

I love you just the way you are!”


Billie Joel’s lyrics  and  painting of yellow bird, Sarah Kinn