Ocean of Us

for Belinda

       Wellfleet beaches twilight low tide, strung with stones like gazing stars
       you and I and the sun, seagulls setting and rising with the moon somewhere tiding rhymes around our wonder
       wandering, picking up the scattered verses of solid Earthspun rainbows daydreaming us
       the everything-children we are, exploring this allowingness at the edges of silver waves, falling awake in cold bursts within a warm heart-held nowhere

The Soft Galaxy (Eulogy for a Chicken)

I’m still thinking of what was happening in Roadrunner’s mind the other day, standing five feet from the back door to the house, on a stoop two steps above the ground, facing the door as if wanting to come in. Every time I think of it, I feel sad – sadder than someone raised in a culture of scientific materialism blended with Catholic ideas about the specialness of humans is really supposed to feel about a chicken.


The Constellations We Borrow

Recently, I borrowed five cars from five friends
over the course of four weeks
while mine was at a shop in Northampton
with everything broken.
Yesterday, I finally got my car back
it smelled like nail polish
and I felt myself wrapped in a metal blanket
crocheted by capitalism
back in control
and distorted by the separating lenses
of space, time, and money.


Outgrowing the Mechanism (Envisioning a Natural, Relational, and Creative Paradigm for Psychotherapy)

The Medical Model as the Tin Man in Oz

I wonder if psychotherapy loses its heart in the medical model, by being defined within a mechanistic paradigm of fixing, controlling, or manipulating a machine rather than of an essentially-mysterious and relational experience of nature and creativity.


The Substance of Home

We four met at the bus stop, randomly
the FRTA in Northampton, outside the Academy of Music
it was cold, gray, 6 PM in October
with blue lights inside buses starrifying the sidewalk

I had just emerged from icy oceans beneath
the crust of Europa (which really are 62
miles deep, and full of life) as I nursed my
wounds of apparent rejection  (more…)