Monday, December 26, 2011

Letting Go

Out of the cave I called my home,
beyond the mere life of this body
the universe is disrobed.
There is no place now to fall,
no desire to shrink.
I can see myself burrow into earth,
hover over the sun
and walk down a street --
I can see everything I've done,
pretending many roles.
I can transform into a living cross
or a mummy wrapped in white
spiraling in space
if I choose,
as I've chosen before.
Beyond this mere life
I've traveled many roads
in the all-seeing eye
creating the world;
I was with Homer and Aesop, with Charlemagne
and in the water Christ walks on,
in hurricanes and harvests.
Don't say it cannot be,
that these and other things
don't or didn't happen;
I know what I know.
And here is my test for truth --
the exact consideration,
and what works:
beyond this body's walls
where I live
the machinery of bondage
in heaven and on earth
is vanishing.



(by Joneve McCormick)

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

succulent green


found in Santa Barbara

(along with mountains
and the sea
art and elegant living)

Monday, December 12, 2011

Saturday, December 10, 2011

mated for life



purity, elegance
balance, distance

egoless royalty











The Swans of Isla Vista

The swans swim together
mated for life,
dive to their shoulders
necks stained with algae;
they sip along the water’s surface
necks coiling, uncoiling.

On the riverbank
in late afternoon
each grooms its white body.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

looking back


done that

living's in the present future
unless a return is needed
to allow a truth

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

the incredible brown pelican

Winged dinosaur, master fisher
I dream you are an ancestor
riding rolling waves with your mate
and circling high overhead.

You dive, spear first

reassuring, over and over

into the hungry sea where I toss


Tuesday, November 29, 2011

the arrowhead maker


Does he know how to make heads
from living as a clam in sand
where relentless surf
pounded shell

and sharp beaks found their mark?

Monday, November 28, 2011

crazy jane goes fishing



I was lonely and took him in
scoundrel though he was

I heard a whisper...

was I to pay
for all my sins?

we went fishing

caught 3 fish before he fled
blind night turning into day


Crazy Jane poem (Yeats)

Sunday, November 27, 2011