life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life


Your soul knows the geography of your destiny. Your soul alone has the map of your future, therefore you can trust this indirect, oblique side of yourself. If you do, it will take you where you need to go, but more important it will teach you a kindness of rhythm in your journey.

John O’Donohue

Excerpt from ANAM CARA

The shadows of the ships

Rock on the crest

In the low blue lustre

Of the tardy and the soft inrolling tide.

A long brown bar at the dip of the sky

Puts an arm of sand in the span of salt.

The lucid and endless wrinkles

Draw in, lapse and withdraw.

Wavelets crumble and white spent bubbles

Wash on the floor of the beach.

Rocking on the crest

In the low blue lustre

Are the shadows of the ships.


Sketch by Carl Sandburg

The skies sob for days

grieving my losses

The sunsets shine glory

bringing hope to my nights

after my bouts with prairie madness

from this God forsaken place of lonely crucifixion

I wait in a shy place of peace

buds slowly blooming like new spring

in my hesitant still-beating heart

I have done with the earthquakes of anxiety and fear

the clay tentatively stilled beneath me in this ground breaking moment

of wonder and amazement

something tender is taking root inside me

this new thunder moon

brings loud silent space for

letting go

opening thoughts

new ideas

voices shared

building collaboration

untapped possibilities

unlimited potential

the desires of the holy trinity of myself –




I acknowledge deep calling to deep

within this waterspout of quiet spirit

there is dawning of truth

softly arriving on the wings of the summer breeze

clouds and answers silently forming without the need for words

recognition is first step into new beginnings

grateful hearts, wrung dry as deserts,

somehow know for sure:

the best of life is always yet to be,

true spiritual waters always grow corn


Amy Lloyd

Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot

The changing light
at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
is a sea light
an island
And the light of fog
blanketing the hills
drifting in at night
through the Golden Gate
to lie on
the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
after the fog burns off
and the sun paints white houses
with the sea
light of Greece
with sharp clean shadows
making the town look like
it had just been

But the wind comes up at four o’clock
sweeping the

And then the veil of light of early evening

And then another scrim
when the new night fog
floats in
And in that vale of light
the city drifts
upon the ocean


The Changing Light by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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