I am reluctant to blog. The thoughts and ideas are too chaotic. But I remember why I write, it is not really for you, i write to hold the memory of this beautiful life. And in this process, if you find something of value, that is wonderful. However, I am a writer, and always reluctant to post without carefully editing. I am not one of those writers who can easily jot down a blog or essay and it is picture perfect. I always write in my journals, 400 to 700 pages a year every year. I easily make a handful of drawings every week. I write new songs. And yet, oddly i have been silent. Some work on facebook. I realize that faceb
Yowling at the moon with Rumi
“The moon is calling you! Get
out of bed lazy poet!”
“Damn, annoying Rumi!
I am sleeping!”
Then he gave a
love tap kick that
tossed me to the floor.
I crawled out to the roof.
The moon was
luminous and lovely,
as luscious as the promise
of a first kiss.
as I yowled at the moon
a slender stream
of silvery A-minor notes
in an arpeggio of desire
leaped from my lips.
Ah, moon-light.
