Tell me what love is I would say
Could be the seagulls thick
As clay.

Somewhere now
In the deeper canyons
Of night, hidden in a
Garden of stars, crawls
Out from a deeper woods,
A ghost of a ghost, hunched
On hind limbs and ready
For the pounce.
      All night.
And you, you are
The deer that wanders
Through the aspen doors
Of a meadowed mist,
Beside the dizzying stream.
And what, what will you
Do then, when those trees
Begin to shift, when the stars
Begin to move?

I started drinking scotch at twenty seven
Mostly the days were filled with mountains
Contradictions that gazed in mirrors
As wet as rain drops the hours.

Loved on a beach in the swamp and
Desert. Couldn’t be as sad one day

After rain when dusk is just
Distant owl call moon
Stone is wet white soon
Stars dull slip
                          through.

This is the nexus of never
An underlining sigh. Rain
Through the tall leaves
Tonight, tonight.

Dorothy is out in the garden again
Pulling the weeds out from the ground
Weaving between the green corn stalks
Like a spider spinning a web.

The brown adobe house rests quietly
In the shadow of the turquoise mountain
Which gathers the onion shaped clouds
With its immense emerald hands.

And Dorothy is laying down now
Beneath the sagging green corn stalks
With one ear planted in the soil
Listening to the distant song.

The song of the earth is thunder
Echoing down through the canyons
And the sky is filled with darkness
As the cool wind begins to cry.

Dorothy is out in the garden again
As the clouds roll down the mountain
Pulling the weeds out from the ground
As quickly as she can.

The hydrangea leaves, lime green
No purple flowers yet, weave up and down
In the afternoon storm, rain rain
Like fingers caressing piano keys
In the back of my mind.
The song of spring! Beautiful and chaotic;
Brings the tears from within me, out.