Entry 40: The Dancing Cypress


She sprouted from the rock centuries ago

Enduring earthquakes, fires and

Man’s greed for extravagant abodes


She stands alone

Her branches curve in a dancer’s pose,

her leaves angled with flares flamenco


There is more to her;

Nourishment and strength levitate

Through thread-like roots




Piercing unyielding rock




Forgoing expectations of her ultimate



She is and has been

Magnificent in each

Moment of her career


Generations of artists, I imagine,

Painted with a fan brush to mimic her

Stylized fashion


But today, she is held by

Cables and



Shackled to her partner

In this sole profitable pose

How will she continue her dance, tethered?


How will she continue to stretch towards the sky,

Encapsulated in a



Will this lone dancing cypress

Only break free

When death do they part?  



The Lone Cypress, California, 2018

Entry 38: Vibration


You sense the whirring

The hisses and purrs

You clutch your anchor to

Still the vibrations


You are frightened

I am not, lifted


Hovering an inch

Above the Earth

At ease with the buzz

Electrifying my every intention


I surrender



Shields, en-lightened


I see your magnificence

I see your struggle

I love you with my heart

Connected to All Hearts


You’ll lose sight of me

As I rise through the clouds

I  am still




Just as you are




Entry 37: The Audacity of Canvas


Who am I

To fill this canvas,

With colors of my whim

Following paths of my

Untethered desires?

Why spend

Time away from familial duties,

Hard earned money on

Brushes and paints?


The canvas is for

The creative,

The inspirational,  

The movement builders

With a vision for the masses.


I have only a quiet

Yearn in my heart for

Vibrant colors and curved lines,

A small ache in my soul for

Texture and beauty.


Who am I

To fill this canvas?


rainbow spirit

Entry 36: What if…? (yoga)


When I was 25, and my yoga teacher said, “your heels may not reach the floor during Downward Dog, and that is ok”, I did not believe her.

When she said, “if you need to rest your hands on a block”, I heard her say, “if you’re not flexible enough, rest your hands on a block”.

When he said, “do only what you can while keeping your breath steady and smooth”, I thought, well, what he really means is, “real exercise makes you breathe hard, but this isn’t real exercise, it’s relaxation”.

When she said, “use the variation that feels right to your body”, I heard, “use the most strenuous of the variations that you can”.

When he said, “it can feel more comfortable to use a belt”, I heard him say, “since you have an unnaturally short torso, you’ll need to use a belt”.

When she said, “reach your arms as far as you can, without effort or ambition”, I thought she meant, “reach your arms as close to the floor as I can- if you keep practicing, you’ll get there”.

What if I had heard, the words that they said, instead of the ones that were in my head?


Entry 34: Anxiety


Seize my breath

Wring my gut

It is a feat to climb from my nest

Each day

Out in the world

We are alone, alone

Who will be with you, when you take your last breath?

Which of your loved ones will be taken before that day?  

How many days will you wake after the heartbreak?

It is too much to know

It is the not knowing that haunts

So I keep moving

Eat chocolate pudding

So I can forget

Complain about rain

While the asteroid gears towards Earth

I pretend to not know

But it is so

It is so

It is

Entry 33: Please don’t get me flowers


Please don’t get me flowers

Or jewelry

Or anything that fits in a

Wrapped ribboned box

The things I yearn for are

In the air

In my nerves

In my heart

I yearn for a day of no decisions

Little responsibility

Few tasks

No worries pulling my shoulders down

I want a day

Where events flow with ease

A day of music

And laughing

Sunshine would be lovely

Though not necessary

Lightness in all our hearts

I’m hoping for giving and sharing

And gracious receiving




And more dancing

Entry 32: Tree


She dances solo

On a patch of grass

Across from the prison wall


Birch white, with swirls of gray

Like a couture gown on a Paris runway

She wears no leaves of jewelry


Waves her curvaceous branches

Her trunk stretches

Towards the sun


She is aglow from within

My throat aches to

Not have the skill


To expose her visual beauty

My words are corny

Analogies juvenile


I envy the painter

Who shapes and shades

Shadows and highlights


All I have are saturated words

Inadequate for

Her Majesty, and I

I am unworthy