Freshly Cut Light

comments 16

I was a diamond
on the ride in today,
a precisely cut sentience
whisking across
the frozen tar,
a conscious particle
accepting every direction,
every possibility,
into its center.



the radio silence
with unformed memories.

forty years from now.

the horizon’s glow.
Letting that fire
inside of me
from every angle
before being released.

Calling every misgiving home
from the wild.
Setting out food.
Becoming the rookery
while it’s needed.




sheltered by
warm machinery,
leaving behind
a plume
of icy dust.

So much of it
but seems to happen.
Our presence alone
is enough
to stir up
the whole world.

in the evening,
how we all meet one day,
I stopped for tulips
and coffee.


  1. On the ride in or the ride out? Both perhaps. Maybe my mind visits the dark, unexplored corners of the grand exit these days, which are really the same corners as before, only I was afraid to look before. How glorious it is, to be a diamond, zooming in for tulips and coffee, zooming out in unending-ing. Calling every misgiving home from the wild and icy plumes. How exciting and free. You write for me tonight sir. ❤

    Liked by 3 people

    • Andrea… it is an honor to write for you. I can only imagine the new geometries your mind is negotiating. Your last post is still inside of me like that light on the horizon, bouncing off of my facets, still unfurling like a sail in the wind.

      When you lift up the corner of the world to peek underneath, may you discover peace, and a tulip. 🙂


      Liked by 1 person

  2. Michael….

    “a conscious particle
    accepting every direction,
    every possibility,
    into its center.”


    “Calling every misgiving home
    from the wild.
    Setting out food.
    Becoming the rookery
    while it’s needed.”…..

    It’s amazing what just one day can bring. “Breathing.”


    Liked by 3 people

    • Ha! Yes, it is great to see what changes in only a day, the way the influences in which we are swimming seem to always to shift into new patterns and opportunities, as if the cosmos is always changing colors in the invisible realms. I am often intrigued by how much changes in one cycle of the moon, and yet how much remains the same. Is it the same for lifetimes I wonder…?

      Love to you also,

      Liked by 2 people

    • I’ll take that as a sign the umpty-ump feet of snow that have been ambushing me of late have made their point… 🙂 I love the image, though. It reminded me of life as being composed of so many crystalline particles, organized by beauty and intention. When you look closely, the mirage dissolves…


      Liked by 1 person

  3. This work seems especially luminous to me Michael. I like that it’s tethered to what we might think of as a mundane event; that helps carry the feeling into the reading I think; so we can be there with you on the journey. As ever, many congratulations dear Michael.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Hariod. That is high praise, and you are right, this one had a little more interweaving of the day’s events. The ride into work the past several weeks has been like zipping across a lunar landscape. The challenge of a fast-moving project and winter’s arrival with both barrels makes those moments an opportunity to “delight in our sense of beingness”, to borrow a turn of phrase from yours truly… Plus, we needed coffee. And we needed the promise contained in the tulips… And we needed everything that silence provides…


      Liked by 1 person

  4. I think there is a crispness to the northern cold that makes MM sharp like a tool for diamond cutting 🙂 and helps you tap into that angle from which one can see all motion in the world as “precisely cut sentience” whizzing among the crystalized air in patterns much like murmuration, which must be quite a mesmerizing show! The contrast in some days feels to me like trying to move through pluff mud, but no need to go there when everything is so…crystal clear.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Indeed, M. The crispiness of the northern cold has a tremendous fuse-shortening effect. One might become brittle, and in danger of snapping altogether. Best to begin each day in a warm environment, with short, stretching motions. Compressing into a diamond seems a preferred response to the cold, though I but attain this shape for an instant at a time.

      I had to look up that pluff mud. I agree– let’s don’t go there. I was reading about sinking up to your hips in the suctioning mire and losing any footwear secured with less than 12 gauge wire and carabiners. I do like the image of several hundred years of shoe styles being preserved beneath the mud flats for posterity, but there seem easier ways of logging historical trends these days…

      I am praying Hafiz will not disappear my automobile tomorrow. We are expecting snow. 🙂



  5. Another awesome poem! This is the first time I am doing this, but I’ve nominated you for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award ( Thank you for your writing, I appreciate its consistent truth and beauty.

    Liked by 1 person

    • RJ, thank you… I really appreciate your sentiments. I hope my telling you that I decided long, long ago to keep this blog award free doesn’t dampen the spirit of your giving. It is truly savored and appreciated, as is your presence and contribution here.

      Much Love

      Liked by 1 person

  6. I simply love your poetry …this one so beautiful , your ” embracing the horizons glow ” touches me like wanting to reach my arms around every single living thing that breathes and shares the earth and the heavens …you have ” stirred up ” my heart …and the diamond and the tulip well , a penetrating paradox for me ….beautiful Michael …Thankyou xxx blessings , meg

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Meg. What a beautiful feeling you describe… That’s so the heart of the matter, our being willing to sit at the table, to glance out the window, and wrap the whole world in our heart… Your response has stirred up my own heart… Is this creation? I see you have a new post up… I can’t wait to read it… tomorrow… when I am fresh…

      Much Love,

      Liked by 1 person

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