Dinner with the boss

chief of surgery

a late evening

outdoor summer thing

she comes around the corner

in her yellow embroidered

mexican peasant dress

blonde curls in disarray

haven’t you got somethin’ nixon-y

wide eyes open

didn’t you want to take




Wake up stretching

Taste your coffee, or tea, slowly

sit in a quiet place

watch the sunrise

pet your cat or dog

make bubbly sounds to your fish

eat some toast, kindly

find an act of love

to start the day

say it to yourself




thank you, Lilie



This I wrote for my dear friend who passed three years ago.


I will never marry

and I will live in China

a dark haired man

will love me

and bring me tea


my daughter is a poet

as images flow from her

like the ancients rode

upon the swelling sea


I’ll shake hands with mother theresa

she holds onto nothing

for in our lack of possessions

we are free


my brother, he still loves you

oh please come to California

be with us forever

till we leave


for Colorado

in the winter of our cabin

where the dogs lie soundly sleeping

hear the crackling of the branches

o’er laden by the snow


the rhythms of the water

and I am in Australia

by the sea

the salt and sun blond

chestnut tresses

I think of you and me


you were the oh so small one

delicate and fair

you thought I was substantial

I was only vapor holding air


now you see me waving

tanned and young and sexy

from my surfboard in Hawaii

I wish you could be there


I did all that I planned to

except for that thing with china

it was those bastard communists

I didn’t have a passport

and hated constant fear


I have said thank you and I love you

to life and everybody

teach my daughter only kindness

and though your streams be muddy


remember that I love you

do the same for others

you’re not weak because you care





I’m not a rose-colored glasses kind of person.  In fact, my experience is that I’m a little nervous about hanging out with the rose-colored glasses variety because there is a downside, which is:  It denies what is and expects others to also.  If there is a problem and you happen to speak about it, you just might find yourself referred to as ‘negative’ and/or excluded because it doesn’t fit the reality of rose-colored glasses, and this reality constantly needs adjustment in ways you may not ever be able to comprehend, as it is not actually going on in reality.  Yeah.

So, what am I?  A person trying to see life’s situations for what they are, as they are.  A clear view, in my opinion, eliminates much unnecessary drama, for you and others.  The happiest I ever felt was the moment I gave up the ‘eternal smiling optimist’ gig and opted for see it for what it is and evaluate.  I did not lose all emotional feeling or concern.  In fact, my concern became deeper, wider, rooted in reality and I felt I was able to see more possibilities for remedy when I took a breath and observed.  I gained a measure of deeper thoughtfulness, more moments of true laughter and kindness, not from other people’s words or behavior but from my own center, who I want to be based on my core values not on reactivity.  The journey continues.  Thank you, Lilie



The place of poetry in society is to speak, to speak in a way that encourages awakening and proclaims your heart.  The place of poetry in society is to encourage others to speak, in the music of words, painting, music. . .


She is

a rose

for the bees

the midnight ocean’s



that makes you feel

your heart



Lilie 6/17