I saw a bird on an electric pole
She chirps and looks at me
Like she's saying comprendo?

Then I try to make friends with her
But she twists her head
Like she's saying Me, You, Friends?
No way!!!

                                                      She looks down at me
                                       Up at her friends
                      And without a goodbye
           She spread her tiny wings
And off she went

A little book,
Embossed in gilded paisley swirls,
Bound with string,
Casting its shadow on that shelf.

A dark book,
Filled with muttered words,
Jet thoughts,
An inky spectre on that shelf.

The little dark book,
Paisley words and muttered swirls,
Jet bound string,
The inky spectre that shadows myself.

The flowers
don't change colors
with seasons,
that bold yellow
mocks my instinct
to adapt
while it willfully
dances
daily.

There is a transient moment
most profound
and necessary.

It is that line
which borders the sky
and the water,
the umimaginary,
factual,
tangible edge
of reality and perception,
past and future,
mirror and reflection,
which develops insight.

A transient, effervescent moment,
of delight.

as you create a blazing path
  and offer all you are
       for all that is rejoicing         
          how precious life is

knowing nothing I see you
       living as you must 
          raw and true
        volcanic heart awareness            
      embracing and embraced
                 by unknown
                     the partner true

I want to feel the breeze on my unveiled face
and my unlocked hair, this morning,
I am walking barefoot.
I want to feel the earth on my feet.
How she has gone warm
under the anger of the days.
Or how she shivers in the days
of agony, the cold winters.
Before the night was done,
I plucked and hid some in my pocket.
There it stays, the darkness,
close to my heart. Sometimes
the stars smile, pomegranate cloves,
bleeding sliced under my knife.
There is a wave receding,
stealing the earth under my feet away.
A projectile flew with the birds,
racing them a while, but it drops now
into the water in a thud.

just came back from a weekend away, down the coast in byron bay, where the lighthouse overlooks the eastern horizon, where we made love on the rocks so long ago, where our selfsame separate memories intermingled, each with the other, where i wandered from shore to shore, and looked to the mirror moon for comfort, and found your arms

The wind in the park was strong today
The ducks were floating and dodge-ing
like in a shooting gallery
There were no guns shooting at them
but, they kept ducking anyway
ducking and dodging the wind