bluebird safe

The periphery hosts a spirit world,

those believing in it, have so advised.

At the threshold, where the two touch,

like where waves flit and leave so much

unheard-unseen, unless our eyes soft

enough, bluebird safe, dreams may nest.


this morning



As old as this world is, each morning’s new.

Of course, depending on just where I stand

the radiance hides or comes into view.

We might linger as yesterday’s shadowed,

for daffodils are fading and tomorrow . . .

Best anticipate this iridescent flight.

Making Music for NatPoetryMo

One of the values of blogging

peeps in after pipedreams dissipate,

like the fortunate fate of a fantasy:

(fill in your name) crowned Poet Laureate!

That might mean traveling to Abilene

like an evangelist, after all, for poem books,

trying to sell under florescent lights

what’s glimpsed only in candles.

Or like making Researcher of the Year!

with its deadly covariant

of shrinking the unique inner artist

further into the pleasing-papa parade.

So instead of sitting down to compose poetic-ish lines in the harmony of somebody’s notion of National Poetry Month, I tracked my notion of Blake’s golden thread.  A question has long murked about: how can I, given my non-musical genes, make background soundtrack that I can claim as my own that will complement my digital media?

My morning news often comes in Kevin AKA #Dogtrax’s twitter paper: #NWP Daily ( ) and today it included a retweet from a music teacher buddy, #MsEstep, that led me to one by #LarryFerlazzo:  Skimming the menu of music-making recommendations, I was drawn to Ujam with this summary: “All you do is hum, whistle, or sing, and Ujam can turn your voice into nearly any instrument and fix it so that it is in tune. . . The Ujam music editor lets you change the instruments, tempo, pitch, and mix between vocals and music to create your own composition. Once you are done, you can save your songs and download them as MP3s for sharing.”

So I tried it.  Using my Facebook ID, I was able to quickly play around in Ujam and within a few minutes I had downloaded something I could call my own.  Afraid even my humming/singing might shatter the keyboard, I chose to try out our front porch chimes.   I started with the chimes and then adapted this with the piano & classical style settings.



After downloading the results, I used this as a sample soundtrack in iMovie.  The original chimes play for the first 15 seconds and then the Ujam version comes in for the next 20 or so.  The visuals show where that wind comes from, the original source of it all.





Dinosaurs learned to walk on their hind legs, you know,

awkwardly, but it must’ve been avant garde for them,

like professional-conference goers waddling by bookstalls,

those prescribed scripts and “research-based” lesson plans.


And trooping halls on track of leading-edge jabber,

like me, jabberwocky, more like it; but stale, odoriferous,

fish-out-of-water.  Why not!  Unless we risk the 180 turn

and dive deep inside; it’s only circus performers we love.

“nothing better”

“nothing better”


“A non-practicing shy person” self-labeled the flamboyant shaman. “Who are you really, wanderer?” William Stafford, the pacifist recites his passionate verse. Through most of the summer the reclusive towees only show themselves in voice: “Drink your tea!” but in spring’s mating season they hop about like gaudy robins.  “A time to every purpose,” ripened wheat stems decorated with rainbow colors,* and then the preacher: “nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his own works.”  Be content with this patchwork of light and dark, a semi-shuttered view, sun bursts through clouds and night with dreams, memories, and hope.


 *modeled after Ben Shahn’s Ecclesiastes. Credits also include Martin Prechtel, the flamboyant storyteller shaman & for the free on-line drawing program used in my wheat adaptation of Shahn’s wonder.

Daffodils Brought In


Cool mornings move me to cut

daffodils so they don’t go out unseen.


If vision hadn’t been brought close

in, the yellow-white flow within one

Span would’ve gone unknown

as would double-blooms on single lines.

this double natured life

A pre-dawn glow comes soft

off snow fallen over night

the shadow earth turn white

and once golden dark


This double natured life

revealed in the mystic

Come then dance and sift

sight so the hidden black


gold the secret treasure

The ancient runes path

the two in one unite

No horizon Now one orb