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Come with me into the expansive gift of poetry to experience a disruption of habitual ways of thinking and perceiving. The magic of poetry happens when it is spoken, heard and felt as vibrations in your body.

In this blog I offer you heartfelt, homemade recordings of some of my favorite poems. I invite you also to spend time with their pulsing vibrations and pregnant pauses, to savor the luscious sensual syllables on your tongue, and to feel the subtle changes in your being as you play with the poems.

Listen, read and then slowly speak them out loud. The medicine of poetry will endlessly surprise and delight you as a portal into your own wild multidimensionality!

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Change the Lighting

1/2/2022

 
Picture
Drawing by Bodhi Hope. Used with permission.

If you can't change yourself, after all
the efforts, change the light
by which you read your story.
Exchange overhead for something softer -
a lamp, a candle, a vine of shining
holiday lights - and feel yourself
become hugged by the fabric of shadows.
You see the darkness here has wisdom too.
You see these objects around become related
by the pregnant emptiness that holds them,
and you.  Let this light reveal the rapture
of being just this.  Then, further still, try
moonlight, or no light, until, at last,
this open, sourceless incandescence
which you are
no matter who you think you are
will follow you from the inside
wherever you may go, however
you may change, or not.

​- Brooke McNamara

Arms Full

11/21/2021

 
Picture
Gratitude
bronze sculpture by Paige Bradley, 2019

​Gratitude means showing up on life's doorstep,
love's threshold, dressed in a clown suit,
rubber-nosed, gunboat shoes flapping.
Gratitude shows up with arms full of wildflowers,
reciting McKuen or the worst of Neruda.

To talk of gratitude is to be
the fool in a cynic's world.
Gratitude is pride's nightmare,
the admission of humility before something
given without expectation or attachment.

Gratitude tears open the shirt
of self importance, scatters buttons
across the polished floors of feigned indifference,
ignores the obvious and laughs out loud.

Even more, gratitude bears her breasts, rips open
her ribs to show the naked heart, the holy heart.
What if that sacred heart is not, after all, about sacrifice?
Imagine it is about joy, barefoot and foolhardy,
something unasked for, something unearned.

What if the beat we hear, when we are finally quiet is simply this:
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

​    - Rebecca del Rio

What is Left to Say

8/29/2021

 
Picture
Painting by Amelie Locke, 2018.

The self steps out of the circle;
it stops wanting to be
the farmer, the wife, and the child.

It stops trying to please
by learning everyone's dialect;
it finds it can live, after all,
in a world of strangers.

It sends itself fewer flowers;
it stops preserving its tears in amber.

How splendidly arrogant it was
when it believed the gold-filled tomb
of language awaited its raids!
Now it frequents the junkyards
knowing all words are secondhand.

It has not chosen its poverty,
this new frugality.
It did not want to fall out of love
with itself.  Young,
it celebrated itself
and richly sang itself,
seeing only itself
in the mirror of the world.

It cannot return.  It assumes
its place in the universe of stars
that do not see it.  Even the dead
no longer need it to be at peace.
Its function is to applaud.

​    - Lisel Mueller 

In Praise of Four Letter Words

8/22/2021

 
Picture
Sculpture by Paige Bradley


We yell shit
when the egg carton slips
and the ivory globes
splatter on blue tile.
And when someone leaves you
bruised as a dropped pear, you spit
that fucker, fucking bastard, motherfucker.
And if you just got fired, the puppy
swallowed a two-inch nail, or
your daughter needs another surgery,
you might walk around murmuring
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
under your breath like reciting a rosary.

Cock and cunt — we spew them out
as though they were offal,
as though that vulnerable
bare skin of the penis, that swaying it does
like a slender reed in a pond, the vulva
with its delicate mauve or taupe
or cinnamon fluted petals were the worst
things we know. You’d think we despise
the way they slide together,
can’t bear all those nerves
bunched up close as angels
seething on the head of a pin.

And suck, our yes
to the universe, first hunger, whole
mammalian tribe of damp newborns
held in contempt for the urgent rooting,
the nubbly feel of the nipple in the mouth,
fine spray on the soft palate.

What does it mean
to bring another’s body
into our body, whether through our mouth
or that other mouth — to be taken in?
When life cracks us
like a broken tooth,
when it wears us down
like the tread of old tires,
when it creeps over us
like shower mold, isn’t this
what we cry for?

Maybe all that shouting
is shouting to God, to the universe,
to anyone who can hear us.
In lockdown within our own skins
we’re banging on the bars with tin spoons,
screaming in the only language strong
enough to convey the shock
of our shameful need. Fuck! --
we look around us in terrified amazement --
Goddamn! Goddamn! Holy shit!

        - Ellen Bass

A Tendency to Shine, for Summer Solstice

6/20/2021

 
Picture
Coatlaxopeuh: She who comes flying
from the region of light like an eagle on fire
a.k.a. Lady G
a.k.a. You!


If you prefer smoke over fire
then get up now and leave.
For I do not intend to perfume
your mind's clothing
with more sooty knowledge.
No, I have something else in mind.

Today I hold a flame in my left hand
and a sword in my right.
There will be no damage control today.

For God is in a mood
to plunder your riches and
fling you nakedly
into such breathtaking poverty
that all that will be left of you
will be a tendency to shine.

So don't just sit around this flame
choking on your mind.
For this is no campfire song
to mindlessly mantra yourself to sleep with.

Jump now into the space
between thoughts
and exit this dream
before I burn the damn place down.

​    -Adyashanti

Senseless Perfection

5/9/2021

 
Picture
Chalk by Kirsten DeBoer. Used with permission.

Things don't happen for a reason
Sweet child
No
Life doesn't need a reason
For happening
It simply blooms forth
With breathtaking chaos
Rains down on you
With senseless beauty
And immeasurable heartache
You can make up stories
If you like
About why things happen
The way that they happened
You can close one eye and squint
To make up patterns
You can tell stories of
Tragedy
Or perfection
Curses
Or blessings
Or you can simply stand naked in
The rain
You can realize nothing
Will ever really make sense
Not if you're really honest
Not if you're truly listening
Nothing happens for a reason
Yes, this is the truth
This is it
There is nothing else
But your own heart
Plunging
Into reality
Your own heart
Drinking down
The eruption of stars
That is this radical emergence
Of soul in body
Of breath meeting sky
Maybe
There is nothing else to look for
Maybe it didn't work out for the best
Maybe it isn't an unfortunate mess
Maybe no great spirit is helping
Anything go your way
Maybe
Just maybe
Life unfolds
Relentlessly
With no holy plan
Maybe
It is sacred
Just as it is
Its power and innocence
Require no justification
Its perfection requires no meaning
Maybe nothing
Means anything
Other than what the Rose
Means
When it blooms
It means
Here I am
Here I am
Here I am
​Here I am

- Maya Luna

We Have Come to be Danced

4/4/2021

 
Picture
Cerridwen Dances by Colleen Koziara


​We have come to be danced
Not the pretty dance
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
But the claw our way back into the belly
Of the sacred, sensual animal dance
The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
The holding the precious moment in the palms
Of our hands and feet dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance.
The slap the apology from our posture dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the monkey see, monkey do dance
One two dance like you
One two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
Tearing scabs and scars open dance
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
Shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
The strip us from our casings, return our wings
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance
The shed dead cells and slip into
The luminous skin of love dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
But the meeting of the trinity, the body breath and beat dance
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
The mother may I?
Yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
The olly olly oxen free free free dance
The everyone can come to our heaven dance.

We have come to be danced
Where the kingdom’s collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced

WE HAVE COME

    - Jewel Mathieson

Make Love with the Earth

12/13/2020

 
What if......our immune systems are not systems of war designed to protect, fight and defend but instead beautiful systems for integrating, one-ing, making love with all of nature?

​What if......Mother Nature is silently, patiently waiting to hold you, to nurture you?
Picture


Make love
with the Earth.

Let her
have her way
with you.

Let her caress
your naked feet,
crawl up into your clothes.

Better yet,
slip them off
and let them fall
like leaves
to the ground,

so she can behold
your soft, animal skin,
your naked glory.

Let yourself be undone.

Lie with your belly
on her belly.

Inhale her heady aroma.
Give yourself to her.

Let her mark you
with her rich, fertile scent,
the scent of life itself.

Let her whisper
dark, moist secrets
to you,

awakening
the beautiful
wild animal
slumbering
deep inside you.

Let her
remind you
who
you really are.

- Kai Siedenburg

    Picture
    Hazel Xochitl Trout
    Bodega Bay
    photo by Leyla Nobatova
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  • Home
  • Wild Words Poetry Blog
  • Ecos de la Marea
  • About
    • About Xochitl
    • Spiritual Midwifery
    • Client Experiences
  • Services
    • The Emotion Code & The Body Code
    • Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy
    • Quantum Touch
    • Reconnective Healing
    • Death Midwifery & Home Funeral Guide
    • Animal Healing
  • Events
    • Trips & Retreats
    • Workshops
    • Ceremonies
  • Hours & Fees
  • Contact