Space

Westwood Hills Park Loop; Napa, CA. Image, my own. April 2026.

Jazz

jazz, how something
jazz
something so messy
so seemingly unkempt and
chaotic brings
jazz
something so messy
so unkempt and chaotic, disordered blooms
jazz
so unkempt and chaotic
brings subtle peace
jazz
brings calm clarity
to the mind
to the being
jazz

Napa Valley, CA. Image, my own. April 2026.

Lonely Place (II)

I’m still alone in my anxiety, in the pit of the stomach of the thing

Why does it take humans constant living to remind them that they
are alone and together all at the same time?

being alone
being lonely
being human

are they the same thing?

Am I still sitting at the table by myself?
Or is that just my childhood imagination talking?

What does it mean to be truly intimate with someone, in that you
you can call and text and still be alone

you can have sex and still be alone, still remain disconnected

you can be married to someone and still be walled out or wall

Maybe I’ve built too strong and well against vulnerability

The horns at sunset. Westwood Hills Park Loop; Napa, CA. Image, my own. April 2026.

Noted:
I noticed the quiet
omission of those three words
when you said goodbye

Eventide. Napa, CA. Image, my own. April 2026.

Space

What does it mean to need space, to take up space, to be in space
If we look at all of the bodies surrounding us, antithetical to room,
In definitions of space we might see blackness, bed covers, a field,
Yogic bodies in goddess pose, scientists from my planet on a vessel,
Artemis, a vehicle, the goddess of the hunt, she blasted them up into
The heavens, the dreams of generations of humans went with her
Astronauts in first grade classes from the sixties until that the final
Countdown from the Kennedy Space Center in twenty twenty-six
Imagined that moment, enraptured by the darkness, a new pitch and
Moment of aloneness, closeness to mortality like very few have lived
Our utter contrast, a bluegreenwhiteorb, pure pith and circumstance
Twelve months, our orbital timeline around the sun, twelve moons, of
Waxing and wanning, newing and fulling, shifting and pulling oceans
It’s hard to know what will come of this push and pull in the end

Wyeth grasses. Westwood Hills Park. Napa, CA. Image, my own. April 2026.

Vast Expanse

Fish Springs National Wildlife Refuge, February 2026

Align

-In celebration of 
Planetary alignment 
And love and life

Sometimes, like today 
February 28th
All of the planets align

You commit to your
Own wild adventure, 
You  break sonnets 

Into sentences and 
Receive messages 
From the sea, the 

Oceans of desire 
Swell and calm
And swell again 

The foam of ancient 
Seabeds, laid down 
In marl of 

Seashells, an intimate 
Mixture of calcium
Carbonate and clay 

Prehistoric alluvials,
A vast bed under the 
Broad blue sky 

Where water, once 
Abundant, La Mer, is
Friable through fingers

The rise and fall
And rise of each breath
Rolls heavenward

Yet, now, all 
That undulates on
That vast range 

Are block horsts from
Earth’s basement,
Deepest oceans of

Molten waves, 
Mountains upon 
Mountains mirror 

Wave upon wave
The blue sky, Everything
Signifying everything 

The eons old lake, 
Long gone, becomes 
The background 

Of our days and 
Nights and days 
As the full moon

Wanes and waxes
Another quantum wave
Of space and time

Between Fish Springs Range and Thomas Range, Pony Express Trail

The Lonely Places (I)

I used to say that my family came from all the lonely places
That somehow, my diaspora got together and agreed to live
On vast plains of prairie, and in dry canyons and deserts
We moved with our own rhythm to the far north and
Set up tiny claims on sweeping vistas of the American
West, the lonely places– unwelcoming, sparsely inhabited

So as we drove yesterday across basin and range after
Basin and range, I could understand some of the longing
That knits the heart to space that confirms the lonely insides
Always looking out, through a window on the barren world
Where with delight a dusty coyote sprints across your path,
Downy woodpecker, her black mask, lights on a cottonwood branch,

There Earth’s bends, striations, upheavals, and rich history
Sit in blocks, and rocks, and mountains which carry our
Eyes beyond the present, forward and backward in time
Fox trots in and out of sage lanes and sand loops across the
Lonely, bereft, solo, alone, solitary, single, unaccompanied, one
Landscapes that require a yearning which cannot be quelled

Sevier Plateau, February 2026

Feminine

we are left fighting
against softness in a world
so desperate for peace

we’ve left her circles
behind to find that tech gods
of degradation

blight the entire
atmosphere, each system breeds
another fall and

trapped in arrogance
and ignorance we’re ripe for
tragedy, collapse

cycles of seasons
wind-songs and river beds all
speak her name, whisper

too soon, we sold her
sources, strength to greed-gutted
rulers, monsters, thieves

we are left fighting
for softness in a world
so desperate for peace

House Range, Pony Express Trail

Gather

Observatory. November 2024. Image, my own.

Gather

So here we gather
On this bright and
Dark day in the Fresh
World, to see if there
Is a turkey of love
Between us– siblings,
cousins, lovers, parents,
Friends. And there it
Is– LOVE– carved out
For us in some miracle
Since the creation of the
Cosmos scuttled us
All together on this blue-
Green blessing of a planet
Quantum journey, accidental
Adventure, maybe in another
Life we don’t know one another
We haven’t stood witness
To one another’s joy and
Pain. But here, now
We are the people we
Know and love because
Of particles of song shared
Between us, and mud
Fights on Thanksgivings
Long ago, and stories that
Have connected us all
Bringing us to this
Moment– to Gather to
Settle softly into miraculous
Gratitude. Thank you
I love you. Forgive me, I forgive
You. I love you. All love.

Art Center. November 2024. Image, my own.


Other Ghosts

So now there are other ghosts
The angels of the past have
Come to comfort and protect,
To bring peace and stability
I don’t know how I know, but
Others feel it too, they enter
They awe, I feel the ancestors
In the daily spirals of
My existence, the soil of
My backyard, the song of
The trees and birds in the
Ancient ash. Many others
feel them, too, and tell me
They are near, they are
Present. I know that I am
Not the only one who has
Ever been separated from
My alter, my shelter, my
Building, my dreams torn
For a vision of the future
I could not ascribe
I’m learning each day
That each ancient has
Been sent as a guide
The present and the
Beyond, they’ve become one

Fall-Winter Bridge. November 2024. Image, my own.

One

Of the most powerful
Things happened to me
And I can both be humane
And protect myself against
Smiling scoffs, unkind people
Who would make a mockery of
Pain, I am so glad that I can live
My life wild and free, I was
Given a second chance at
Love, at happiness
You too?
I will never take that for granted,
My joy– that joy will go on to
Fill me, myself, my people
And all the rivers of song

Community Garden. November 2024. Image, my own.

The “Last” Great Thanksgiving

That’s what the menu read
And then they were all gathered
In one place—humans—with the
Most similar genetic makeup of
Any group of sapiens on planet
Earth. Siblings. And it was good

Woods– lovely, light, dark, deep. November 2024. Image, my own.

Light

Cotton Candy Clouds, August 2024

Love

No one tells you that love and risk are synonymous.

This is a hard truth to bear in this world, I’ve found.

But people also don’t tell you that love comes in so many beautiful forms that perhaps the human tongue has never named or caressed or articulated them all– anima, amor, amatio, cupido, diligentia, ludus, eros, agape, pragma, philautia, zelo Love

Love forms the deepest connective tissues and threads of our psyche and souls– the circle that embraces us all, and this love is vast, sweeping, sublime, teeth– it is the sinew of the divine that runs through all living things. You Me.

It’s the why behind how washing the dishes and a sensual lie-in, lay in, lay on can be erotic. Simple.

That is the wonder of love. The musings that both bring us to our knees in gratitude as well as sorrow, pleasure as well as pain, transcendence and immanence. What shall we choose? Love allows us to stand at the edge of the universe of our knowing and unknowing.

Love

Set List from an Epic Music Fest, Ranch Rock III, 2024

Connaissances

Today my old life died
and my new life spawned

I had a tiny lump
in my throat

My stomach turned
a bit, and I

took a long, deep breath
through the pain

then I realized that I was
hungry for breakfast,

stomach grumbling, I went out
and ate and egg

Eden, Utah

Artist
You are the artist
of your soul, winsome and west
her and just so me

Gabrielle Dawe, Plexus 36

Ikigai

When you know things
When you understand and
Begin
to Evolve
and sure, you’ll
be erroneous again,
don’t forget that
there will always be
People
who will try to tell you
Otherwise
The sky is falling
for them, for sure
rather, Recognize that You
Know
that the sun is rising
You are not nothing
that you do
Exist
they are misinformed
Just as all the ideas
that have ever been flat
lines, no heartbeat

Crescent Moon, August 2024

Saturday Dreams

A Saturday trio of sweet poems. I hope you have a deliciously lovely day. XX, Megan

—–

What is this place?

This gorgeous sunny
Saturday of possibility
This stillness of warmth
This cradle of rest
I think I’ll stay

—–

First Day

It feels like the
first day

of the rest
of my life

As near-autumn sun
warms my face

The cat licks her soft
tummy and dainty

paws clean near
my thigh

warm, brown sugar
coffee steams in

my hand. The soft
beat of the night

falls aways and I
can revel in the new day

cricket noise dwindles and chirps,
finch, sparrow, flicker

songbirds are chittering from
the branches of an old

cottonwood, the sun soaks
into every port

the first day unfolds
before me

—–

“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.” Ursula K. LeGuinn

Grew Some This Season

As the crepey pumpkin leaves
turn into tiny shards of
brown paper in my hand

I am reminded of the circle
of all things, the beauty and reality
of dust

The empty brown cocoons of the peas,
just husks of the tender
green life-casings they once were

From leaf to vine, now
is the harvest time
the time of gathering in

And this year my garden
blossomed, bloomed, produced
and grew in abundance

Bounty and the bearing of the
fruit remind me that I
too have grown

I am rich with new understandings
new scars, too, yes,
but a seeing, a stillness

A silence that hasn’t possessed
me for a long, long time
in its renewal– peace