Tuesday, February 4, 2014


It is the anniversary of my brother's death, fourteen years now. I wrote this last night and post it here as a small reflection. Much more goes on in private, speaking and feeling--though as time comets onward, not as much as I should. However, in the winding longitudes of my depths, my brother will always be a very living, interconnected presence, with all that I am, and essential in inspirations and meanings.

Best To All,




i am sleeping on the same bed
my brother slept in
when he was depressed
before he took his own life away.

it has been years
and only now i wonder
about the history in things
we too seldom sense,

and the weight
of an invisible so generous
it engulfs us in splendid
long journeys,

so desirous to be close
and yet redolent with what will always
stir from afar, some song
on a hill

that touches us with warmth,
like a cherished hug,
and in the same movement
teaches us to know pain.

it bathes us, all the time,
this special magnetism
of essential connections,
especially when home.



  1. I like it when you write them free, knocking this one straight off as it were.