Cold shadows

in reverence i quietly watch the cold shadows of trees lace an apartment building across the parking lot outside my work window, imperceptively moving from west to east and descending into the ground as the sun rises further on this wintry day, reminding me of a seventeen-pound weight above my shoulders and neck that cracks the surface of rolling forecasts, blackens twenty-seven small circles on the iowa test of time, milling about the edge of green lake like a pair of ducks testing their courage to nest, beading jewels of consciousness along a string of silver moments whose blessings are counted on my back, on the wool rug floor at 6:15am, my belly flattened, legs and arms stretching and relaxing, during and after each breath, leprechaun dance fanning wax to cool whereupon my eyelids flutter in silence, greet this day, tell it all, advance the clock of earnest and fervent hope for staying awake, tamping the earth with an alder log suspended by cables from the eaves of my intersection with death, sweeping crumbs up with my hand and tossing them into the garden, spring is on the way, orders have been placed, matches have been burned, dawn of life, carbon sequence, near and far.

Macaroni and cheese

food for the soul, for the belly, for lounging in bed and watching bbc drama, for joining together with nibbles of thinly-sliced sirloin steak and green peas, for patching through into some universal template of power and strength, for bringing to work the next day as both breakfast and lunch, for keeping the monkeys at bay, for telepathically forging new relationships with foamy tidal regions on a planet you visited in your dreams the other night - not in conflict - not in solitude, for tracing a dance in the air when the sirens scream outside your window, for making you laugh on the way out the door by saying 'don't laugh!', for reminding me that lebam needs some attention in a loving way free of worry or shame, for inspiring me to ride my motorcycle tonight even though there may be a bit of frost on parts of the road, for bundling my operating system and my creative suite together in a fully-integrated digital package, for zim zam zooming, for celebration from the lips to the hips, for love, for passion, for you and me to share on yet another day of kindness and grace.

More details on Bill Mitchell

this press release and the times obituary came out on saturday, here are 2 links:
http://www.bastyr.edu/news/news.asp?NewsID=1128
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com
/html/obituaries/2003543647_mitchellobit27m.html

(please paste the 2 halves of 2nd hyperlink together)

Life precious life

i just heard this morning that Bill Mitchell, part of my extended family through a close friendship of our 2 daughters, and one of his sons, Noah, both died this week unexpectedly from heart failure. Bill's death was a direct result of his son's death. there is no reason that this kind of thing happens, no way for me to understand it. my own mortality is underscored by this tragedy, and at a time where my spiritual work is focused on making sure everyone who has been touched by my life knows that i care. every day is a precious gift, every person in my life provides a lesson for me on how to love, how to empathize and care, how to celebrate the miracle of existence. my experience with grief is limited, both of my parents and all 3 of my children are by grace, healthy and happy. everything is relative and objectivity is impossible. i feel so much for Bill and Noah's family, all of whom i have known, all wonderful and sincere people, sensitive, loving, and now my heart goes out to them and i pray for their courage, their healing. we hear all of the time that losing a child prior to our own passing is an enormous shock, how true and present that reality seems today.

life precious life, we wander lost at times, stumble over your limbs at times, dance along the edges of your chasms, pretend to not remember, not to know, descend into shadow where your light is dim at times, rush through your miraculous beauty, balance precariously across the bow of your steaming ship, tie ourselves to the trunk of your falling oak, mask ourselves so you won't recognize us when we defile you at times, all with grace watching over, waiting for our faces to turn like flowers into the sun, seeking your nourishment, your glorious wine of joy and sorrow.

Neural net

the challenges of existing with a brain that has been shaping me my whole life rise and fall with each given day. yesterday there was an attempt by my thinking to ensnare me in old patterns that could lead to my loss of trust in self, lost of trust in the process of living in truth, making me believe that conversations i know were full of integrity were actually conceived to trick me. it was when i went home for lunch and the beautiful sun was shining down all around, warm air flooding into the open door, i had gone in to retreive some tobacco, upset, and then i stepped out into the weather, focused on what that moment was about and through the grace of living one day at a time, in gratitude, my simple life returned. i began counting my blessings and lost count as they stacked up beside me on the walkway for my apartment. they started skipping off through the parking lot and fluttering up to the 2nd and 3rd floor completely out of my control, barking at me from accross the street, burning holes in my crust with the magnifying glasses of polished tears, angel ice thawing gradually in a stream down the middle of my back, trapeze swing, hang upside down, catch the hands of now and swing a few more long and large arching soaring swings, then let go and fall fly fall fly into the neural net of love.

Concert this sunday!

hi, i'm blogging today a copy of the invitation going around to a benefit concert that i'll be playing this sunday evening starting at 5:30. please come by to eat dessert, listen and hum/sing along!

Benefit Dessert & Concert with Bruce Haedt, SundayJanuary 28th, 5:30pm dessert, 6pm concert. 224 Minor Ave N, Seattle (2 blocks West of REI)
from Linda Moore atha@riseup.net
I'm excited to send you this invitation to an intimate evening of delicious desserts and the beautiful music that Bruce creates!

This is a fundraiser for the Cascade People's Center Breakfast, cooked by a small group of folks every Wednesday morning for anyone in need of a hot meal!

The way this works is...@ 5:30 on Sunday the 28th, you come and eat dessert for a donation, and at 6pm Bruce will share his beautiful music, perfect for a Sunday evening! The goal is to raise enough for a month of breakfasts!(it's about $25 a week)...

if you love to bake...give me a call-206.658.5630

If you would like to donate in another form...
Organic oats (not the 'quick cook' kind),
Potatoes,
Butter substitute,
Eggs,
Bread,
Southern style grits,
Forks,
Organic unproccessed sugar.
These things would also be appreciated! Hope you can make it, it's sure to be a real sweet evening!Blessings!

Linda

Morning prayers

in bed at 5:15am, awoke with a bit of anxiety, trepidation, am i doing all i can do at work, at home, in my art, for my children, at the apartments. so i went slowly into prayers of gratitude for everything, and everything just how it is today, my life, my family, friends, body, creativity, belly, burdens, caveats, floral wreaths, combination hooks and jabs, dirt, formulas, wormbin tracings, vacations, mercurial loopy wands, tradewinds, telepathic love letters, harbor seals, ghastly wombats, pieces of lace...

Beeline to empathy

oh, anger anger anger at something so small, a grain of sand. remembering my own muscle of ego pushing for recognition puts me on a beeline to empathy. let this go, it has had its moment. let the day continue in its soft beauty, making known the willingness in my heart to find joy, pleasure, clarity, wealth, spirit.

yesterday john and i had a fabulous walk, went from the new olympic sculpture park up to the locks in ballard, enjoying art, nature, industrial throw-aways, idling diesel engines just a few feet away from us, the back streets opposite the locks, discussion of boats, apartments (virginia and i are going to look for a management gig) family issues, boot sizes, 5-spice duck and black rice pudding.

tonight i meet with a new sponsee, then work around the apartments, perhaps do some printing, certainly do some writing and music playing, then pick up virginia at 9:30 for wind-down and recap, reading a little jane eyre together, making plans for the week.

i plan to do a house concert this coming sunday at 5:30pm (well, i play at 6 but the bake sale starts at 5:30) if you are reading this and want more details please send an email.

Layers of dream

early morning dream where i donned a gladiator's armored vest and codpiece with bare legs, arrived at some large and rambling home, a few houses connected, parking my van in the street, mixing with a group of men who were making reference to a spiritual teacher they all recommended, were sharing literature with me, there was something familiar about her, then i realized i had done some exploration of her work and decided for certain it was not for me, this was alarming to my friends, some process was put into place to further discuss, but then i was moving down a hallway from that house to the next one, saw my 2 young children on the other side of a large dining room with no table and through a doorway that was evidently the kitchen, decided i needed to put something on my bare legs and went back out to the van, their mother pulled up in a damaged station wagon and got out, talking with me about why the car was damaged and what she had been doing, i'm making sure i have another pair of pants on, then we go into the house together, a dog comes out of the kitchen looking guilty, we walk into the door and there is the water/blood combination from thawing chicken in a pool on the floor, k & w are trying to manage the job of breaking apart chicken parts from frozen cardboard box cases for rearrangement in the refrigerator, another large blonde pitbull blend dog jumps down from the counter with a chicken back in his mouth, the kids are cheerful but obviously overwhelmed, i notice k uses her teeth to try and seperate one piece of chicken from another and spits the contents of her mouth into what looks like a purse, i inquire of their mom what is going on, she says something to the effect that she isn't sure because she is not there much, and i wake up.

Thin solve regiment voice

duration of fantasy seems endless, maturation developed beyond reality incorporated into business, wealth and taste, grabbing all that can be seperated out, lined up to report in, there is an obvious relationship between the flow of death and flow of contracts, the surge is really about a need to boost some industrialist community pocket book, add in more here, budgets jump, debt increases, grip tightens, we try to force an unsavory and transparent oil-grab as a parting shot, you come across the dance floor - again - and weave your spindly web of poor me in order to splatter a little of your own discomfort, dissipate it, deny that you are the responsible party, groan... never mind this was too much discussion, my gratitude runs upstream, comes in on a tide carrying sea-monkeys and brittle stars, no violation interior recluse thin-apple voracity, a columnar blank wall welcoming my fingers to paint, prod into irregularities, test for sturdiness, lay on back with feet upon the bricks and mortar, laying alongside whose ears heard the carbines ratchet and oil, whose lips entrusted a disappearing reunion, a kiss again and again, those days counting, solve this mystery and you will find the worms nobility, command left, polish and conquer.

Blanket of white

an intimate reshuffling of the four directions

brought down your blanket of white

strewn onto the floor with extra pillows

as you arranged yourself on a burgundy towel

jane eyre set aside

software completed

the altar food consumed

or was that after

i forget sometimes the order of details

but remember the details

in all of my senses

there is a writer who used to write about sex

at the weekly

it was not her strongest work

i ran into her at a gallery about 7 months ago

prior to when you and i figured out that our lives

were on a trajectory of miraculous love

i thought of her today

not a rain check or a what if

or even a who knows in sight

more in reference to your facile mind

i'm excited to see how you communicate

on the page, and think
all of those cards are pointing in that direction

Telepathic nurturance

you will never forget the sections of time, after peeling away the skin, exposing the fruit of your love for each other, the commonwealth of intelligence, sense of adventure, small fears that pestered both of you, calls to action, desire to work, views into regulatory systems of origin, a black tennis ball hurled through space in existential joy loop, something sent it back your way with a signature you were not expecting, where there is a corner of a sphere, the impossible combination of fans blowing and bright lights reflecting up around that small flat bottom boat that was built to carry your imagination foward into seasonal canals behind your suburban lot, nails tagging each projected whalebone vascillation to cork up, bob down, steep four minutes, blanket the rails, hollow out another squash, wear it on your breast, pant like a dog, laugh with each motion in your boyish ribs being helped up onto seat of blazing carnival ride, dare you look down there will be a mysterious capability lost, let out to pasture, during and after the snowstorm, your bed gives way to dream and pale factors, driven into columns by your fingertips to make sure the balence is correct, the obvious muse sits legs crossed and chin resting in hand, waiting for your beam of light to cement this world to his, wondering how it will all come to pass.

Years plea sevilla

this conquistador

vain and vanishing

plied with ships

nodding asleep

brindled hound

comfort relenquished

melting gold

virtual stance

efforts worn

bootheels slipping

meredith monk

johnny mercer

robert fripp

disappearing town

cliffside barstool

from whence you came

letters sorted

no rules broken

meet your mom

cradles rocking

silver strings

wounded fingers

mose allison

laura nyro

jenny kelso

antwerp conference

daily sort and tackle

fishing for years

no plea bargain

oranges sevilla

cormarants lebam

tailing fuseta

Five times five

some inseperable dance follows registration hallway down down down

placing tips of fingers where soft lines converge

holding open each rite of passage to trickle through plains of cotton

welding love to sleep, a congregation turning towards impressionalbe voltage

in common with emollient virtue, bouncing so small, almost imperceptible

helping up, brace the foot against the wall

keep the heater on, you understand

snow is creating elaborate patterns by filling plank and cornice to wither

apples to apples

sublte twist and possible invitation

my position suggests the firmament will open

clasping like a toy and testing for doneness

rest is allowed to sweep forward in her gossamer skirt

along the ridge of shoulder, dimpled downy belly

masks fall away as dream shudders lay waste to

that stabbing five times five

Zither open the hatches

nothing needs to be done perfectly in creative work, nor in my day-of-life activity, how i love, which streets are best for walking and in which shoes, candles burning on the table, one flame is going out, princess kitty in all her glorious length resting diagonally on the bed, simple laughter cannonizes the moment, i will pin a new picture to the bathroom wall, no, i will change it again tonight, black and white for color, elevated recognition leads to cup half-full conversation with boss, hands are not burned, fingers can pick up the dice, toss them, but the time for placing bets is over, the game is the process, the action, the continuity and structure of each day, saving grace opening grave, rise up now my golden child, let each turn in your dance keep the comet's tail pointing in your heart-direction, angle of love is not deceit, record keeping mice gnaw the edges of conscious bread, and envy falls through grate, apples roll, seventeen avocados ripen in formula with prayer, someone heard you then, niggled about on frosty windshield denizen, let the smoke curl in even crested waves, belly showing, smile and bless, smile and bless.

Spearfish canyon

while growing up in the black hills i had a dark understanding of what lived in the forest. nurtured by my creative spirit and tender-boy curiosity, my journeys out the door into the fields behind our house, along the streams, on the old logging roads up by the cabin we had during my childhood would engender a deeper love for the ground, plants, smell of air, sounds moving through trees, and at the same time an edge of fear would haunt me, sharpen my senses, keep me on my toes.

life has always been full of riches, although at times in my life i have neglected each moment to a degree that i missed how huge, bloody and golden it was - crafting instead a frenetic bewilderment, blocking out the pain, pushing myself insanely to accomplish something that would fulfill someone else's belief in me - not recognizing how shaky of ground i was on with myself, driving fast, shooting silver bullets, breaking glass under my bared souls. there was little room during many of those years for reflection or wonder.

today, another day, somewhat like yesterday in terms of simplicity, in continutity of process, i am grateful for the reflection, for the spearfish canyon breeze that blows down to the tips of my fingers, pine needles gray-green shimmer, mullein bobbing, brook trout hiding beneath the moss waiting for a small grasshopper to miscalculate his leap across the stream, constructing this day with simple tools and fibres woven through my struggle with life, they are sturdy, milling-stones heavy above and below are turning with slow grace, i am the grain.

Veritable wash

it took 5 quarters to clean my frantic window, newsprint forming wind tunnel periscope across leading edge offer, don't wait too long, this moment curry with cream, leg of iron, sandpaper castle recognition of circumlocution when direct question vacuums under bed, dusty gnome helping drink weather from shadow mountain rendering. who be you, who be me, who drives the foam spires out to sea, crashing dances landed us between obsidian and chamber rust.

Chain of grace around our bed

graham nash when with the hollies sang "hey carrie ann" and "tell me to my face", and on his first solo album sang "i used to be a king" and "simple man".

magic reappearance of lost earring reminds me of "where is your magic disappearing..." (from "hey carrie ann"), which daisychains into "tell me to my face you're leaving now..." and the story you told of the visitation, yet another bridge between us of experience, one that i would like to talk with you more about.

the other 2 songs connect from the conversation i had earlier in the evening with dave; how i see when things are going so well in my life that in some small way i will begin to try to undermine myself, and that talking about it in a group or with gene, dave, jesus, and others i have the opportunity to step back from that familiar slide, the muddy track into the river, see where it leads, offer myself a choice.

stopped for gas this morning, the van was not smashed into in the middle of the night, driving tenderly and with gratitude, boy do i need to do laundry.

back touch, chocolate mouth, tea delivery, heater repair, sipping sageleaf, ready for this evening's dance and the weekend. glad to be alive in this moment.

Chase mortality

"When it comes to fishing, the bird uses the beak and pouch as a personal fishing net, capable of catching fish over three-quarters the length of the bill. The bill is highly sensitive, which in murky water or at night allows the pelican to fish by touch alone, useful when some pelicans have to catch four pounds (two kilograms) of food daily. The beak is smooth along the edges, quite useless when trying to grab a slippery fish (unlike some other fishing birds' beaks that are serrated like a streak knife). All is not lost though, the pelican has a mean hook, called a mandibular nail, at the end of its beak, important in nabbing or killing prey. It is also used to preen and to intimidate predators, competitors, and overzealous ornithologists."

David A. O'Conner

Gambol up the bank, oh bear

last spring
you cut down all of the trees
on the hill beside my forest home
now you may come
drag away the windfall
if there is any value in it
for me and for you


we are cooperating
from opposite sides of this question
tossing a rope over the chasm
testing the tension
building a bridge without
pulling each other into the ditch
i sensed you are a crafty fox


i was with my children
when you called me last night
they are somewhat distant
our process is echoed in that valley
where walker creek flows
mysterious how challenges like these
gambol up the bank, oh bear

"Dreams are necessary to life"

happy new year everyone! happiness runs deep for me this day, and i anticipate it will continue to throughout the year - and for the rest of my life. through some miracle of grace the gift of understanding how precious each moment of each day is was delivered into my hands last year and has become the foundation of my existence. being present in this state of gratitude continues to connect me further and further into love, joy, compassion, hope, celebration, recognition of how small, simple decisions i make throughout each day have a powerful accumulative effect on the major themes of life - love, art, home, family, health, wealth.

virginia gave me a beautiful silver moon with this quote by anais nin inscribed. it sits on my desk at my fingertips to remind me that the work i do (including this writing) sends out energy that fuels my deepest dreams, and that all of my dreams can come true if i stay true to them, to myself, to my god. blessings for this day.