I have 6 fans: Become a Fan. You'll get emails whenever I post articles on OpEdNews
Gary Lindorff is a poet, writer, blogger and author of several books, the latest: 13 Seeds: Health, Karma and Initiation. Over the last few years he has begun calling himself an activist poet, channeling his activism through poetic voice. He also writes with other voices in other poetic styles: ecstatic, experimental and performance.
He is a practicing Transformational Counselor (with a strong, seasoned Jungian background) and a shamanic practitioner. His shamanic work is continually deepening his partnership with the land. This work can assume many forms, solo and communal, among them: prayer, vision questing, ritual sweating, and sharing stories by the fire.
(6 comments) SHARE Monday, June 20, 2016 Total Recall
Recall notice: Nine out of 10 human beings are being recalled to correct a design error that threatens a potentially catastrophic systems failure in the event of world crisis.
SHARE Tuesday, February 11, 2020 Another poem about
It is hard writing about Florida without loosing it and waxing bitter because it didn't have to turn out like this, or did it? Who and what determine how places turn out?
SHARE Monday, February 17, 2020 Poet / potter
A short poem about the kinship between poet and potter.
SHARE Saturday, February 15, 2020 When we get to the beach
A beach at night bears little resemblance to a beach in daylight. It's a wild place, a place for vision, a safe place to merge with shadow.
SHARE Monday, September 23, 2019 Slipping
This is a poem about communing with a wild spot in a wild place and about the grief of having to leave it.
(2 comments) SHARE Friday, August 16, 2019 The smiling turtle
Live for and work towards a viable future but prepare for the worst, and, this is the hard part: We must try not to lose our sense of humor as we stumble from tipping point to tipping point. After all, the human race is, among other things, a hoot.
(1 comments) SHARE Thursday, June 6, 2019 The trial is on
The title of this poem is literal. The children are the judges and the jury for the crimes that the adult world has committed and continues to commit against each other, nature and the the planet. The trial concludes quickly. This is really a poem about rebirth.
(2 comments) SHARE Monday, July 22, 2019 Eft
The eft is one of the most beautiful creatures of the Vermont woods. Bright orange from head to toe, two and a half inches long, they walk slowly and deliberately and often stop as if deep in thought.
SHARE Wednesday, November 27, 2019 In the Birdseye Diner
This poem is about a mother's blessing. It is also an attempt to capture a moment in time, but what time that is, is not exactly clear.
(7 comments) SHARE Tuesday, June 13, 2017 Poem: "We, the birds in the field"
The older I get the more I identify with the creatures who are threatened by unnatural forces that are beyond their control, because the truth is, we don't control our destiny any more than the bird in the field that is slated to be mown.
SHARE Saturday, July 27, 2019 The swim hole
Enraptured as I was (along with everyone else) by the moon landing 50 years ago, I was far more amazed by what this Vermont stream has achieved without technology or hoopla over the eons -- a place as breathtaking as a cathedral.
SHARE Wednesday, January 29, 2020 This teapot
The poet critically considers his recent purchase of a ceramic teapot made in China, both as teapot and metaphor for himself.
SHARE Monday, November 18, 2019 Shopping for a violin
One time, years ago, when I was stoned I found myself listening to the most beautiful woman's voice I had ever heard, on the radio. It was almost inhumanly high, like the voice of a faerie. I started weeping. Then it slowly dawned on me that I was listening to a violin solo!
(6 comments) SHARE Wednesday, October 9, 2019 Sipping Earth
This is a bitter sweet poem about how easy it is to idealize every age, but now that I have been so many ages, I think that being young was the best.
(4 comments) SHARE Monday, September 2, 2019 In the name of co-existence
Playing favorites is not going to cut it if our goal is to live with nature as if we really cared.
SHARE Thursday, July 4, 2019 Tanks but no tanks
Even when I was a kid I didn't like parades. They were too linear or something. Add the military to the mix and I just begin the shake my head slowly and involuntarily.
(1 comments) SHARE Monday, July 29, 2019 Back to scratch
Obviously what's needed is a revolution. Every revolution has it's fallout As a pacifist I am always trying to imagine what a peaceful revolution might look like, best case scenario. Peaceful doesn't mean painless. Here is a poem that came out of such reflections.
SHARE Thursday, January 23, 2020 Kenny
How is is possible that a man like Trump became president? I think we might all come up with our own answer and it might just be a good exercise to make it personal.
(2 comments) SHARE Friday, November 15, 2019 I / We Versus the Idiots
This was not meant to be a poem, but lately I cannot claim to be in charge of what makes the cut.
SHARE Saturday, December 21, 2019 A new way of thinking
With over 400,000,000 guns in the US, I guess I know what Americans want for Christmas. Ammunition.
(3 comments) SHARE Wednesday, August 23, 2017 Mudslide
Sometimes helplessness is a blessing. Poetry rarely has any answers. But there is some solace in metaphor when the misery of others is overwhelming.
(5 comments) SHARE Friday, November 8, 2019 Shadow
As a post-Jungian shamanic practitioner, with enormous respect for Jung's contribution, I feel that, even when people think they are on board with (whatever you want to call it) the new "woke" culture, if they haven't done their shadow work, it's not going to be revolutionary enough or deep enough, so this is a poem from the perspective of one of many of the collective shadows of our time.
SHARE Saturday, February 22, 2020 Escaping
If this is a prison of our own making, why can't we unmake it or at least escape it, even in a poem!
SHARE Monday, August 5, 2019 Extinction
What stands out in this poem, along with the obvious theme of extinction, is the color orange, which combines the vitality of red and the optimism of yellow. It is also the color of the second chakra.
(1 comments) SHARE Saturday, February 8, 2020 Now I write
Writing about writing, poems about writing have their place. There aren't enough of them. There can't be enough of them.
SHARE Friday, December 27, 2019 Ravens do not weep
A poem about spontaneous remission. If it hadn't happened I would not have thought it possible.
(11 comments) SHARE Monday, March 19, 2018 The United States makes me sick
When people immigrate to this country they are generally healthier than they are after they have lived here for a while.
(2 comments) SHARE Friday, August 2, 2019 Back
The magic of poetry is we can all get to watch the Earth-rise from the moon and occupy visionary places, but if we're honest, and I suppose this is what we discovered in the sixties, for visions to stick we can't avoid shadow-encounters along the way. We of the Western World cannot have the moon without first realizing that we are about to lose the Earth.
SHARE Monday, March 2, 2020 One Day in the Asylum
This is a repost of a poem that was posted on OpEdNews in 2016, inspired by the appearance of a sparrow at a Bernie rally in Portland, Oregon.
(2 comments) SHARE Thursday, November 21, 2019 What's so funny?
Mining one's life for things to laugh about, that weren't funny at the time, could become a pleasant exercise. I guess aging can be a little like smoking weed.
SHARE Monday, December 9, 2019 Following the Fenton River (a eulogy)
News of the fate of the Fenton River, that used to flow about a mile outside of the University of Connecticut (where I used to play and swim when I was young), came out of the blue when I got wind of a book by an old friend of mine. Apparently the Fenton River is no more.
SHARE Wednesday, July 3, 2019 1963 -- A good memory
This poem is a little like soul-retrieval. There are memories that hold pieces of our soul that are worth revisiting.
SHARE Thursday, March 5, 2020 Don't get me wrong
Death is not final. Life is final in that it is about finishing something. In this poem the poet identifies with a flicker that flew into his glass sliding door.
SHARE Tuesday, December 3, 2019 Circle of what?
This poem was inspired by the BBC story of a young male tiger who being tracked walking 1300 miles looking for something.
(2 comments) SHARE Wednesday, January 1, 2020 Uncreation
Here is a poem for the New Year and food for thought. 2020 can be the year that we all cleanse the dust from our eyes and see clearly what we are losing.
SHARE Friday, January 10, 2020 My little orphaned bat-cry
The question keeps coming up, how can we live in this world we have created and at the same time, live with ourselves?
SHARE Saturday, December 14, 2019 No answers
As this poem was written the news from Madrid was not hopeful. One of the hardest things to bear is how much time my generation had to guarantee that we would never wind up where we now find ourselves.
SHARE Wednesday, June 17, 2020 It is what it is (get over it)
"What's the use of worrying', it never was worthwhile". Didn't we learn anything from the 50s, for example, how to live without taking any responsibility for how things got so bad?
(1 comments) SHARE Saturday, July 13, 2019 Climate change
Classically, in literature and mythology, monkeys have played the role of tricksters or wiser than wise clowns, but they are no one's fool. The tragic fool, and the sower of chaos is us.
SHARE Thursday, November 22, 2018 The garbage dogs
Today is a day for being thankful, thankful we are still here, thankful we still have time to make things right. Thankful that everything doesn't make sense. Because if things made sense the way they are currently we would have run out of any reasonable hope that sanity will prevail.
(4 comments) SHARE Monday, October 7, 2019 I have the tools
Here is a poem about apathy. It might be useful to ask ourselves, if our country was our house (as in "home"), which it is, without waxing too metaphorical, what would be its condition?
(2 comments) SHARE Friday, August 9, 2019 There is a word for me and you
Eric Baus writes: "The doctors said his name had burned up. We never knew how it sounded." If we imagine a situation where names are one of a kind, it isn't hard to imagine many words of any given language being unique and impermanent, so a new adjective to describe us becomes a vehicle to transform into the word or risk vanishing with the word.
(2 comments) SHARE Tuesday, July 16, 2019 The village people
When I see young people living in community, simply and sustainably, I feel I am living in the past. I have very little that they want. Here is a poem for them.
SHARE Thursday, July 18, 2019 How I got to be the greatest show on Earth
This was not an easy poem to write. I tried to put myself in the head of the leader of the free world to be able to write this history. It's not any place to hang out, to put it mildly.
(3 comments) SHARE Thursday, November 30, 2017 Sad Truth, a poem
There are many ways to account for Trump's rise to power in these Benighted States of America. One of the more unsettling is that Trump is an archetype.
SHARE Tuesday, September 10, 2019 Climbing Monument Mountain
The more I visit this place, this mountain, the more alive it becomes for me as a whole, its mountain-personality. And no wonder. It has been listening to my friend's and my conversations over the years of our visits, and, as it watches us age, I have the strong feeling that it has grown fond of us and will miss us some day.
SHARE Wednesday, February 26, 2020 This poem ends with stanza 5
Poets are responsible for what they write. Dreamers are responsible for what they dream. No apologies no excuses.
SHARE Saturday, February 29, 2020 Homeless
Writing about homelessness presupposes we know what a home is or feels like but as one ages in the American Homeland one might begin to wonder if any of us know what home is.
(2 comments) SHARE Friday, June 12, 2020 McKibben on a bad day
We are living in a world where dreams are the compass and poetry points the way. We are close to the edge and we are close to a shift favoring real change. Some will step over the edge and some will pave the way for revolutionary change. What an amazing time this is.
(2 comments) SHARE Thursday, September 5, 2019 For my friend who called me
"What do you do for fun? When is the last time you had fun?" The poet struggles to answer.
SHARE Thursday, January 9, 2020 Australia -- an allegory
Edmund Spenser (16th century), author of the epic "The Faerie Queene", was a master of allegory. You might see allegory as half-way to poetry. Then again, Spenser's allegory is very poetic and magical.
(1 comments) SHARE Saturday, September 14, 2019 Too good for us
In spite of how the human race acts like we own the earth and can do what ever we want, I think we are suffering from a profound interiority complex, and for very good reasons!
SHARE Monday, November 6, 2017 Sweetest bird -- a poem
A canary may harbor a mighty soul. This one was singing so passionately, surely he was channeling the great spirit of a balladeer.
SHARE Monday, March 16, 2020 Corona
The present is increasingly an echo of the future. Luckily (or not) we are not as much in charge of steering the boat as we might think.
SHARE Saturday, May 18, 2019 W.S Merwin, poet of a higher order?
If we don't understand what a poem means that could mean that the poet is onto something. Maybe more important than understanding a poem is being transfixed or moved by its language. Good poetry carries its own logic.
SHARE Saturday, November 2, 2019 Heading for the Hudson Valley
Traveling down Interstate 87 at 6:30 AM through a 5-mile work zone one might, with very little imagination, experience one's own Space Odyssey.
(3 comments) SHARE Thursday, February 15, 2018 Ostrich's lament
Ostrich, the largest bird on earth, is caricatured as hiding its head in the sand rather than face reality. It is easy to identify with that coping mechanism, but there is much more to the ostrich that is worth considering.
SHARE Tuesday, May 28, 2019 The round tower
Nobody really knows what the round towers in the ancient monasteries of Ireland and Britain were used for: Storage, surviving a viking attack, surveillance of the land, summoning to prayer? Massively built, the ones I have visited, over a thousand years old, were not build for war-making, but if anything, they were there to serve the monastic community and were purely defensive and practical.
SHARE Friday, June 26, 2020 Tale of a poet
Imagine someone in Pompeii dreaming of the future or dreaming of someone in the future dreaming of Pompeii. Here is a poem that attempts to follow one certain poetic ley line -- memory to metaphor to dream to memory, all coalescing in metaphor, or is it dream? Or is it memory?. . . tracing the fractal patterns skirting chaos.
(6 comments) SHARE Sunday, May 12, 2019 The end of everything
This poem depicts a cascading diminishment of engagement between people that comes about because everyone agrees that no one should stand out and what results is the opposite of culture -- first stasis and then collective paralysis. During the writing it felt like such a thing could actually happen. Let us hope it doesn't.
(2 comments) SHARE Wednesday, June 12, 2019 The Most Dangerous Country
Sometimes being an American is like living in Jurassic Park, where the thunder lizards are still in control but on a good day I look around and tell myself it can't be too long before the last of them disappear. They just don't fit in any future I can envision. They consume too much, they rampage too much and their waste is a huge problem.
(5 comments) SHARE Saturday, July 9, 2016 Rainbow Gathering
For the first time in my life the Rainbow Gathering was close enough so I couldn't not go. And I'm glad I did.
SHARE Sunday, June 14, 2020 Inside my shoe
Bears and humans have a lot in common: vulnerability, five toes and bare feet. They rarely cross paths. When they do it should be meaningful for the human.
(1 comments) SHARE Thursday, October 22, 2015 Greenland shaman
Greenland shaman admonishes, "Don't feel sorry for the polar bear."
(3 comments) SHARE Saturday, January 6, 2018 Parallel reality -- a poem
It is hubris to assume that there is only this reality that seems to be going badly, even as the forces of change gather and organize. That would be to forget that there are profound depths of consciousness that sustain us in spite of ourselves.
SHARE Sunday, March 22, 2020 Not essential Not alone
The whole question of how essential are we comes up in this poem and also maybe it's time to put on some brakes; that is, when we emerge from the current crisis, that would be a good idea.
SHARE Friday, June 21, 2019 Traveling with a bee
This poem continues the theme of the bee as the poet's familiar in the age of extinctions. The poet must find the honey in his / her heart to survive these days of the Great Unraveling, to be of any use to the growing number of human beings who have no home, literally or metaphorically.
SHARE Wednesday, November 13, 2019 Celebrating Solstice and Samhain
This time of year from October to Winter Solstice can be a tough time unless we key in to ancient traditions that help us know how to do this journey.
(1 comments) SHARE Friday, July 1, 2016 A poem about this
A symmetrical poem about today and now, tissue boxes and food and so much more.
SHARE Saturday, July 4, 2020 Another poem about Ira
One could write a whole book of poems about places we drive through to get to other places, but would anyone read it?
(3 comments) SHARE Friday, April 21, 2017 Poem: "How the future looks"
I think that many young people were born with the "super-powers" or gifts that will be required for renewing the planet. I also think that future generations will have what it takes to undo what we have done to the world.
(2 comments) SHARE Thursday, April 23, 2020 Grass basket
Sometimes things stand out as living metaphors, but unless one is writing a haiku, it is the easiest thing to get carried away, making a chore of it. Our job, as poets, might be just to tell a simple story and then know when to stop typing.
(8 comments) SHARE Saturday, October 1, 2016 A twinge of happiness
Taking stock. We're in it for the long haul. Looking on the bright side.
(1 comments) SHARE Thursday, April 13, 2017 "Onion", a poem
There are poems that are like shouting into a wind storm, without being able to hear ourselves, and there are poems that offer an alternative to hopelessness -- in this case, magic.
(7 comments) SHARE Saturday, September 24, 2016 Viva fuerte!
The time is right for a great council. All we have to do is show up. Here is a poem that celebrates the spirit of finally coming together.
(1 comments) SHARE Friday, September 15, 2017 Sharing the sandbox -- a poem
Who are the American People? And who are those people who constantly refer to "The American People"? These are important questions to ask. Unfortunately, for a poet, they don't make for very good poetry, but that's life.
(1 comments) SHARE Sunday, June 4, 2017 Nursery rhymes for the times
The old nursery rhymes had a dark side. They were also coo-coo and zany. These are darker than silly but so are our times.
(6 comments) SHARE Thursday, January 11, 2018 "Tilly", a poem by James Joyce
This poem is a poem for our times even though Joyce published it in 1927. The red clay road is just that, but as we step into lucidity the red of the clay becomes the blood of life itself.
SHARE Tuesday, July 7, 2020 freedom is
This poem is a concatenation of self-similar imagistic patterns that could have continued as a fractal unfurling until the poet decided to bring it home.
(5 comments) SHARE Sunday, November 20, 2016 My poem "Children to the mountain" and brief commentary
This is an ecstatic poem. It suggests that if we want to survive and flourish we will need to be reborn. After I finished it I wasn't quite sure what it was saying, which can be exciting to me if I feel that I have worked the language to the best of my ability.
(10 comments) SHARE Tuesday, October 4, 2016 Deep Horizon -- the chosen
With the movie "Deepwater Horizon" just out, I thought it timely to resurrect a poem I wrote about the BP disaster in 2010.
SHARE Saturday, April 20, 2019 Tremendum
We have dreamed an ending for the world, but the world's Dreaming may have something else in store. Some of us may welcome that as an extension of the familiar, while others may turn away to continue dreaming of ends.
SHARE Friday, April 10, 2020 Stalking the message
Epidemic Epistle IV: A COVID-19 crisis diary: this is installment IV of a weekly diary of the pandemic.
(6 comments) SHARE Saturday, January 28, 2017 I'm back. Did you miss me?
Just a brief summary of my long strange journey to age 66, and a possible explanation for why I haven't been writing much these days.
SHARE Wednesday, March 27, 2019 The Storyteller
What is the story we are living versus what is the story we are being told and what is the story we are telling ourselves?
(2 comments) SHARE Sunday, January 1, 2017 Poet's Notebook: My poem, "Endless war" followed by commentary
This poem, in honor of the new year, tries to capture what it feels like, to me, to live in a world of perpetual war. In order to express this reality I am leaving my comfort zone of conventional metaphorical language to explore a fragmentary, fractal construction of space-time relative to every day consciousness.
(1 comments) SHARE Friday, June 14, 2019 The vacation
A poem, like a dream, is the best way to say something; not the most articulate way or the most user-friendly way. Maybe it's the only way.
(1 comments) SHARE Monday, May 11, 2020 Nursery rhymes
Among the things we most have to fear is being caught up in a collective refusal to learn anything from history. What do we see then when we look in the collective mirror? Governments would treat us like children. That is a terrifying prospect when we consider that the leader of the free world is nothing but a spoiled child himself.
(1 comments) SHARE Wednesday, September 12, 2018 The first argument
One interpretation of how the trouble started is, originally, we were meant to have a much larger brain. The one we have is too small. That accounts for why we are so violent and riddled with neuroses.
(4 comments) SHARE Thursday, November 8, 2018 Will you help me?
This is a poem about starting wherever we need to start, from a place that needs attention and love, a place that isn't happy or comfortable that we lost touch with somehow, that we have to rediscover and let back into our hearts.
(5 comments) SHARE Sunday, April 9, 2017 What am I shouting? (A poem.)
It's hard to retrieve our elephant nature without the grasslands, without our family gathered around, and even without the moon to paint us silver.
SHARE Tuesday, February 21, 2017 Knock, knock
Knock, Knock joke. This is about being afraid to open your own door, to the world. Not a good situation folks.
(1 comments) SHARE Saturday, February 9, 2019 Like reading Mary Oliver
The idea of this poem is, obviously, that time is running out, with the bookmarks growing ever shorter. But there is more to it.
SHARE Saturday, November 17, 2018 War is wrong
A simple poem about a basic truth. Like you have to brush your teeth and stay hydrated and breathe. All things you need for life. Knowing war is wrong is also necessary for life.
(5 comments) SHARE Sunday, November 25, 2018 The judgment
Animals live by instinct but they also have emotions and they feel and they are capable of judging us.
(8 comments) SHARE Saturday, October 29, 2016 November Kale
This time of year resonates with me in so many ways. It's hard to keep up with what what-all I want to say before Solstice changes things again..
SHARE Saturday, May 9, 2020 Don't vote against Trump because
Imagine a world without Trump. Would it be any better? Would it be any different.? Would we be any different? Would there be more rainbows? Just asking.
SHARE Thursday, February 22, 2018 AR-15 (A poem)
Words fail after the shooting at Marjory Stonemason Douglas High School. Just as with Sandy Hook and Orlando, first shock, then deep sorrow, then outrage then deep consternation. America, America, how much more blood will you shed of your children?
(3 comments) SHARE Sunday, April 2, 2017 "Death" -- a poem
Contemplating death, at 66: the difference between life and death grows thinner.
SHARE Friday, July 31, 2020 My first sip of coffee is sweet
Getting older one stands the chance of converting bitter into sweet. There is also the chance that what was sweet that turned bitter may transform into bittersweet.
SHARE Saturday, August 8, 2020 Eleven Commandments
Maybe it's time to update the Ten Commandments, such as "love what you like. Cherish what you love." (What if we are living in Paradise? Would it make any difference?)
SHARE Saturday, March 16, 2019 Daffodil, The Great
This poem is a parable that is being spun in order to say something true about the magical powers of the daffodil, not only to break out of a frozen bulb, like the Great Houdini, but to participate in (or in this poem, initiate) the grand ecstatic chain-reaction that we call Spring.
SHARE Tuesday, January 30, 2018 Imagine this world
This poem is sort of a koan. It makes convoluted sense, but the point is to get us to go into a maze of imagining, to get lost and find our way through by trusting that the world the poet is asking us to imagine is simply a world of people that can imagine a world with elephants.
SHARE Friday, December 16, 2016 Dreaming ourselves out of this mess
The difference between dreaming and Dreaming is key to getting out of our own way as humanists and activists and preparing the way for monumental change.
(14 comments) SHARE Tuesday, October 13, 2020 Poem: Should I wear a mask?
Existential dilemma. Mask or no mask? We know the answer but there are other questions that distort the answer. A quintessentially American loop of parochial logic.
SHARE Wednesday, January 17, 2018 Sleepwalker
If someone commits murder when they are sleepwalking, are they guilty? If someone starts a nuclear war when they are aren't in their right mind, are they responsible? With so many zombies running the country we better give these questions serious thought.
SHARE Tuesday, August 25, 2020 Wow
The best tricks aren't tricks.Or another way of saying this is, the best magic is real.
SHARE Tuesday, July 21, 2020 Homeward from visiting family
Visiting family several states away is worth the risk and the quarantine when we get back home. Many of us are not looking for America any more; we're looking at it hard and deep.
(3 comments) SHARE Tuesday, February 16, 2021 Strong
My strength is like a horse muscle./ Sometimes I feel it flexing in my conscience.
SHARE Thursday, August 20, 2020 Shipwrecked
Roses are red, violets are blue but without poetry in our souls it's all black and white.
SHARE Sunday, August 2, 2020 In the pine woods
Listening to all the racket of young crows being fed conjures thoughts of good parenting, but also how it seems to be the case that the more intelligent a species, the longer it takes to grow up.
SHARE Sunday, May 3, 2020 The greater pandemic
The greater pandemic is the Industrial Revolution that started in the mid nineteenth century, England and spread like wild fire sickening the living planet.
(2 comments) SHARE Wednesday, March 13, 2019 The mock interview
I read an article on BBC World News about how: "The world's first robot designed to carry out unbiased job interviews is being tested by Swedish recruiters." Named Tengai, her voice is kind and businesslike with a tinge of the maternal. Her face glows. I couldn't help but imagine where this is going. It all seems very innocent right now, the subtle introduction of AI into every day culture. But is it?
(5 comments) SHARE Monday, December 31, 2018 Black butterfly -- New Year, new world
Another tipping point. Another chance to listen to the prophetic voice of common sense. Will it be just a new year or a new world? We choose.
SHARE Monday, January 21, 2019 No poem tonight
A poem about not being able to write a poem is even harder to write than nothing at all. This poem tries to capture that feeling.
SHARE Saturday, April 18, 2020 Searching for a new mantra
At least there are no germs in space . . . yet. Mantra or revelation, new paradigm or shift, Big Dream or vision? It matters little where we draw our inspiration, as long as we don't push the reset button.
(3 comments) SHARE Monday, December 18, 2017 Finding myself twice as old as my son -- a poem
There are perks to having an old soul. On a good day it is possible to tap in to the patience of a stone or tree, and to recognize the things that really matter, like yogurt and love.
(1 comments) SHARE Tuesday, July 12, 2016 Fighting Zombies
Why I have a soft place in my heart for zombies and 50-foot women.
(3 comments) SHARE Monday, March 26, 2018 Onion and Woo plan an outing
Throwing red paint at the entrance to the White House seems like a really good use of time. In this poem Woo questions whether red is the best color.
SHARE Tuesday, March 19, 2019 Glastenbury Mountain
Some places are mysterious and deserve our respect and we should show our respect by granting them space or at least when we visit these places we should try to discern whether they want us there or are asking us to back away. I think the Grand Canyon is like that. We should stay out of it, admire it from the rim, but let the spirits live there in peace.
SHARE Thursday, November 10, 2016 Using my library as an oracle
Applying Jung's principle of synchronicity,
in trying to make sense of Trump's rise, I sought advice from some revered ancestors and one living ecstatic poet.
(6 comments) SHARE Friday, March 17, 2017 Poet's Notebook: Disappearing places, disappearing soul and soul-retrieval
As the world experiences soul-loss, with the displacement of and gentrification of one-of-a-kind places (along with the people who live in these places), we have to make sure that we nurture our own souls, i.e., that part of us that is capable of recognizing "soul" in the first place. Soul has nothing to to with quaintness or charm. Soul is what lets us know when we're home or closing in on what we are longing for.
(2 comments) SHARE Sunday, November 13, 2016 Here and There
We are responsible for what happens to our cultural, emotional and spiritual environment. So we have a lot to figure out and, now that the damn election is over, we best get to it. There is a lot at stake.
(2 comments) SHARE Tuesday, December 4, 2018 The hourglass
We are living in a fragile moment, in a loop of time, like a recurring dream but not quite because the dream is changing subtly as the particles of possibility slip through the hourglass.
SHARE Monday, April 23, 2018 The coming world that should be
Now is the time for world renewal, while stepping back to let the old world die however it needs to, as it is already doing in a million ways.
(3 comments) SHARE Monday, April 1, 2019 Patriarchy -- how it ends
We are, arguably, living at the end of the age of patriarchy. What that might look like, or feel like, is going to be different for everyone. Here is one version.
(1 comments) SHARE Thursday, November 13, 2014 Black River
New poem by thiscantbehappenings poet, Gary Lindorff
(1 comments) SHARE Saturday, December 22, 2018 Akooh
Sometimes the clearest prose leads us astray from our birthright to babble. If there are no wild spaces between words and phrases, no voids of sense or gaps in logic then language becomes programatic, topic-driven, over-civilized. It's easy to forget how wild language is at heart because we pride ourselves in controlling it. But there is poetry with huge soul locked within the most generic prose.
SHARE Friday, September 2, 2016 Launching a poem
Here is a poem that will not blow up on launch. And, the aliens are among us; they are the left brain.
(10 comments) SHARE Tuesday, March 29, 2016 One day, in the asylum
What really happened that day at the Portland rally. Fleshing it out. The poetic truth and nothing less.
SHARE Friday, June 8, 2018 The Bloody Gun
When it comes to the war-like nature of the human race, change is slow, so slow maybe none of us reading this poem will live to see any change at all, but, on a good day, believing it will come is enough.
SHARE Wednesday, March 8, 2017 The taste test
There is so much confusion now-a-days for us Americans on what is "real". Poet or not, I have to turn to science (and radio) to get my bearings.
(1 comments) SHARE Friday, March 1, 2019 What I said
I just read a piece by Josh Mitteldorf on Shanthi, which I really recommend reading. This poem does not have much Shanthi in it. It is written at the edge of the dualistic universe where many of us are poised at a kind of door. What if all the alarm clocks in the United States went off at once? I think we are almost at that point.
(2 comments) SHARE Monday, October 26, 2015 G Lindorff interviews Gaia
Pacifist-poet interviews Gaia. Gaia advises to "let the world in" and let our hearts melt. This is G L's second Gaia interview.
SHARE Tuesday, March 12, 2019 What you might do
This is a poem about subsistence and waiting.The ravens are the real subject of the poem. They are where the energy is. But even they are in a holding pattern.
(4 comments) SHARE Tuesday, May 3, 2016 Riding the elephant
Empathizing with the mighty elephant. There is a world out there that needs to be judged and ultimately fail, or we might as well all just go to hell.
SHARE Monday, November 7, 2016 A poem: "Who is I" and reflection
In an attempt to lighten up two days before the election returns, I am remembering that when we are alone in the voting booth it's just me, myself and I? But who is "I"?
SHARE Saturday, January 9, 2021 Guide us home
A poem about passage to be read to Nils Frahm's "Winged Victory for the Sullen".
(1 comments) SHARE Wednesday, October 21, 2015 Tipi in the city
poet-pacifist, thanks to the Navahos, the Dine, has a good day in Salt Lake City
(5 comments) SHARE Monday, April 11, 2016 We aren't all in the same boat
This poem explores one aspect of the reality of living in an oligarchy, followed by the poet's reflections on the writing of the poem.
SHARE Sunday, April 15, 2018 The reunion
Happy poems are rare. They can't be manufactured by the poet just make the poet happy.
(2 comments) SHARE Thursday, April 5, 2018 My soul said, "Get up."
Making promises to our souls in the dead of winter is a good way to side with life.
(2 comments) SHARE Monday, February 18, 2019 Mount Greylock
It always feels a little like soul-retrieval when I am able to integrate one of my father's memories into my life.
SHARE Sunday, February 17, 2019 Was I ever little?
It might seem as if this poem is written tongue in cheek, but no, the poet really is yearning for proof that he was once little.
SHARE Tuesday, January 26, 2016 Arktos
Arktos means Bear. We are making the Land of the Bear disappear before "all the eyes of the heavens".
(1 comments) SHARE Thursday, June 9, 2016 The pipe
This poem is about a possible future in which the only thing our descendants know about us is that we built really good pipes, but what they were used for no one has a clue. That's a good thing because the truth would wreck their religion.
SHARE Wednesday, March 20, 2019 Shouting to the stars
Are we in a train watching things pass through a rain-smeared window or shouting to the stars?
(4 comments) SHARE Thursday, May 26, 2016 Notes toward a manifesto
Manifestos have never been more timely. The last time I wrote one I was 19. Now I am 65 and I'm happy to say I know where I stand, who I am and what I believe.
SHARE Monday, September 7, 2020 Three Poems For These Pandemic Times
There is a lot of work to do on multiple levels. Our work is cut out for us for the foreseeable future. And I mean us poets as well as those of us who regard poetry as medicine.
SHARE Wednesday, December 9, 2020 Moonbat
This poem will not mean the same thing to any two people, but whether that is true or not we will never know.
SHARE Saturday, December 1, 2018 The whole study
Sometimes a poet just has to go with his / her gut, so we don't get physically sick, I mean barf or something.
SHARE Monday, December 21, 2020 Canary blues
I need my mother's gumption / And head for where the deer and the antelope play / Get out of snake city
SHARE Monday, September 14, 2020 Outside
One thing that is becoming more obvious to those of us who know there are different realities is, if we are going to change our fate, we are going to have to change the time line.
SHARE Thursday, November 12, 2020 The little fool
One poet, Michael Torres, describes some poems he didn't write (or is it images he didn't turn into poems?), as a lost dog that unexpectedly finds its way home. That describes how this poem wrote itself.
(1 comments) SHARE Friday, February 12, 2021 Part of the barter
So where does it end? / Crucible of the earth / Murmur of the sea
SHARE Friday, November 13, 2020 Dream incubation
Dream incubation is not so much about programming our dreams to resolve issues for us, but to seek out how the wisdom of the unconscious or our deeper Self might perceive the issue we wish to resolve.
SHARE Wednesday, October 14, 2015 Bombs of love
poet-pacifist weighs in on the so-called intelligence behind the bombing of the hospital in Afghanistan
SHARE Saturday, September 26, 2020 Just another poem about the Apocalypse
All the elements of what the Apocalypse will / might look like are in our own private theaters, our dreams. Maybe there is a better word than apocalypse because what seems to be coming is a gigantic psychic overhaul of the human race. Let us hope so anyway.
SHARE Saturday, February 27, 2016 The Pink Bear
A mysterious Pink Bear announces his presidential aspirations on Fox News.
SHARE Thursday, October 1, 2020 The little bird
When we are little, animals trust us, come closer and are more responsive. As we mature and we think we are so superior to them they keep their distance. When we are older they begin to trust us again.
SHARE Wednesday, March 16, 2016 Our monster
The thing we should fear most is a monster of our own creation.
SHARE Tuesday, April 5, 2016 Fishing the red herring
A party of fishermen braving the high seas to catch a red herring in support Bernie's chances.
SHARE Monday, February 15, 2016 Gun tales of a pacifist
Guns of innocence, guns of experience, guns that never should have been fired, and why I, a pacifist, love the smell of gunpowder.
SHARE Sunday, February 7, 2016 Trophy Hunting
Poet / pacifist walks us through the reality, i.e., the fantasy, of big game trophy hunting.
(1 comments) SHARE Sunday, April 14, 2019 If I was god, on my day off
The poet gives himself permission to write a light poem, imagining what kind of city he would create if he had the power. The photo is the first image that came up for South Street in Philadelphia, which has a history of managing to maintain its livable, likable character through waves of development, albeit it does have a Whole Foods market that looks like it was lowered from a helicopter.
SHARE Monday, January 4, 2016 Just a few questions
Poem inspired by John Cage's question to John Lennon after he demonstrated his singing voice to Lennon: "Did you like it?" When I wrote this poem I imagined Cage asking some of these questions with me.
SHARE Thursday, April 8, 2021 Vermonter in Virginia
Virginia might be for lovers but Vermont is for people who love Vermont; i.e., long winters, short summers, arguably one of the best places for writing, albeit not sure the sun or the cows sing there.