Have you encountered any dragons as yet?
I came upon two yesterday
In a deep wilderness ecology

They were able to, you know
Because they had lost
Their breaths of fire
Lucky, cause they are in love
And kissing is very difficult
If you are angry.


Greed and Speed

Into the marvelous immensity of Big Sur
We crawl
With Molly the trailer in tow
Navigating strenuous sinuousities of twist
That manifest vistas of the billowing surges
Of turquoise sea combating ancient stone


To see them, one must go slowly
But apparently no one told the
Tourists pressing accelerators to pass us
Intent on their scram into crammed parking lots
For those  views recommended in guidebooks
I admit that a good one
Is the waterfall plunging to the sea
For a ‘We Were Here’ Selfie

They sometimes abandon their cars on the narrow road…
Just one more ‘gotta have, to die for’ selfie

But were you in Big Sur?

Did you marvel at the liquid mellifluents trilled by thrushes
Wrens and tits?
The harsh calls of curious Jays
The clicks of hummingbirds shooting neon darts
Into your day?

Did you smell the scent wafts
Of the Goddess’s perfume
As she tends to her gardens in Big Sur
The unexpected wild rose brambles
Cleveland Sage’s blue spikes
White, black and coastal sages
Licorice anise amidst pungent sage
Baked in sun light’s kiln
Fermented by fogs
Borne of the wind on breeze?
And was your heart not stilled by silences?

No, you say
Well, then why have you come to such a sacred shrine?
This clamoring for Big Sur and its attributes
Has created a conga line
Of cars, buses, RVs and vans
That by its very nature
Dispatches its essence
They come craving ‘something’, but what I wonder
Do they even know?
Hey there!  In case you didn’t know —
Henry Miller and the artists have left
They no longer can afford the rentals.

The Pacific Grove Pine Cone has annnounced
That perhaps there will be a lottery for entrance
I propose that instead of a lottery
There be an annual contest of art
And all who endeavor to capture muses may enter
In this way Big Sur might remain a sanctuary
Reserved for Artists with Poetry
With Music with Paint in their souls
The rest of the visitors can attend
A Big Screen event at IMAX
Or if they are too busy…download it to their phone
Or buy a book of photographs when they are
Turned away at the gate.

Or better yet, they can woo their own quintessence….

2016-05-11 20.15.22




The tide recedes
Waves bouncing off the land
As big as those arriving

The sea bird glides on a hunt
And the great rocks
Remain evermore silent.



The line of ocean
Is indiscernible from the sky
The sea reflects a misery

A fishing boat has reached the edge
And has fallen off


Jungle Dawn


I awaken with the Jungle’s Dawning

A deafening cacophony
By its creatures and their insistent lyricisms

The monkeys commence with their
Bassooning vibrations of Howl

Converging with the squawking fracas of Arias
Chorused raucously by flocks of green parrots

Whimsicalled by the tootings of mating Pheasants
While the rhythm section is supplied by the wa-hooed monotones of the Doves…

All so as to call me to prayer
To call me to prayer…..

Namaste to this limitless world


Marveling at the Marvelous in Costa Rica

A small Brown and Yellow Tree Snake
Curls in a settle of contentment
At our house entry
A share of sanctuary

The baby Agouti snuzzles on our doormat
A softness for its resting
While sweet Bats hang on casa eaves
Shifting in wing-spreads
With sun’s light journeys
Entangled among jungle Zeniths

A leaf stem parts….
Its succumbing time
Its waltz with death
From impossible pinnacles
The fall transforms into flight
The waft and whirl
Akin to the gliding of a butterfly
Yes, for its arboreal lifetime, studied
But never imagined such liberation

And as the leaflet falls
In its last paragon of grace
The ever vigilant Fairy Folk
Of the Forest
Metamorphise it into a cocoon
We know, we know….
One such truss hangs upon our plastered wall

A tiny Frog shelters beneath shoes
Tipped to ward off scorpions
Or other such arachnids

We are the intruders here
But as we grow vines in our hair
And howl to the clamorous upheavals of
Storms of thunder and lightening
We marvel at the moon’s phosphorescence
Spotlit upon the walking trees
Not quite rooted, and thus
Awakening them to motion…….

The Goddess grows ever nearer

The Goddess Approaches


The Gopher

I see a furry head
It does not know I am here
My Mother taught me stealth
In the forests…
A valuable tool to see creatures
And to woo my soul’s emergence.



Big Sur Skies

The gray morn whispers to my soul
A serenity
A promise
Perhaps a poem today….

The light has cleared a breach,
A  blue patch
And presses to vie with the clouds
In a chase.

Oh, yes, I welcome a transition to warmth
But am mindful of  the mountains
And their creatures
The scorch to verdancy
As the long burn of summer approaches.

The fog hastens to close up the patch
The mists have won!


Foggy vista Pacific Valley



Two geckos
One a translucent clarity of brown
Herman I name him
The other teeny, black tailless
Both killing machines

The Salt Lake City Police gunned down another kid today
Probably African American
While Herman does not seem to mind that a black gecko
Has moved into his neighborhood



Costa Rica Law

We are in a country with few laws,
But many courtesies
People arrive and part in conveyances of shy smiles
That deepen to a bronze warmth
At the slightest of provocations

One day on a beach of tree draped lagoons
I walked, collecting souvenir trophies of seashells
Marvelling at the coils of hues built to house delicate creatures
Igneous pebbles of vivid hues splattered the beach
As further ornamentation

Many Tico children surrounded me, hands outstretched
Their pretty treasures offered freely
In a gracious enthusiasm
So that my jewel cache
Would be sure to include their whorled gems

No worry of lack
Wealth comes naturally here
If one dwells with ‘Pura Vida’

Pure Life…….

shell for money