Sunday, November 4, 2012


Where I'm writing from
not what the writing is about

Carried away --to a wholly different 
place some say down under

And that journey was almost as easy
as where I sit now arriving here

Concepts always get in the way
even when they are sought after

As aides in some kind of play of
direct experiencing presumingly

That one down under --what goes on there?
after thought place name namesake

Hailed by some obeisance to fortitude
among women --what is celebration?

Then arriving where place name rings 
true having followed a calling approaching

Exquisiteness quietude awe the white 
of early winter touching down --here

Arrival is of no consequence as it is 
the ever present way of all things

The patterns of life both leaving
traces and tracing what is --left behind

I find I am here where here there
breaking likeness whilst finding alike

these words just found: what I wouldn't give 
to find myself in a place like this...*

*recorded words at the very end of the song, The Canterbury Tale by Dreadzone


  1. thanks for reading and also taking in (redundancy intended...)
    yes, awe as a verb. tonight this place (the penthouse) makes its own sounds and so do the animals in their sleep. the tv is muted, too much redundancy about elections, and poetry is happening. so good to have a brief conversation with you, Rachel. Hugs.

    ~ ketchum, idaho on a very warm day, now into the evening (snow forecasted for end of week again)