Somewhere in these eyes
A mountain lake
At dusk the rain
Through the pines
The mind
The soft stuff of stars
Between the clouds
Dreams! Life and
The forward falling
Of space
Backward into place
Like no other pattern

Ahead of me
In the woods
At dusk like
A big cat
With big eyes,
The future turns
Away and runs
Up the switchbacks
Without a sound
Each paw pressed
Into the spine
Of my anxiousness.

Now and then
And every moment among
Poems, like mountains
With streams reach inward
And bend toward everything and nothingness

Read it a million ways
The mountain says
In stones, please no more.

Not far from now, nothingness
Does not rattle on nothingness.
The final mountain trembles
In the blackening rain.  It opens
To close, deceiving perception.
I sleep, I wake and not by decision
Through the woods in the dawn I go because it is not the only option.

A path led me to a lake
A lake whose water says
The wind speaks
Beneath a mountain that
Swims in the clouds
In the dark.
What is left?
Dreams in the dirt
All these ticks trying to get at my. Blood.
Opportunity, the dawn so far away.

I'm not pretty
Barely alive but
I felt the sunset and
Kissed your eyes. Mountains, aspen
Desert and sky, I heard the day
Go beneath your mind. Quiet and
Inconsequential. You went to bed
In the tent and I stayed out in the
Black rain beside the black lake.
I was beside the pines and estimated
The thunder go through me like stone,
And I could not leave, could not stay.

Blue, blue and green the intolerant mountain's rose
Exclaiming the melting point of snow
On the tips of their rocky tounges.

(Such a feeling of almost immortality)

I drove through the green and to the blue
Singing songs and crying, like a lost bird
And I didn't know what else to do
But leave the moment behind.

The thing about the future
It looks at you in the mirror
But you can't see it there
Smiling back at you like
A thousand sunsets at once;
But soon enough the time has come
Then it turns away and runs.

Emerson I lost
A long time ago but
Whitman I picked up
The other day off
My bookshelf and
Read earth my
Likeness and thought
About bursting forth
Through the dreams
Though the night
Was dark the
Stars were cold
And the beginning

Wet stones
Tired bones
Flowers wet
Spent out
Though
Like stars
Gone first
I know
Because your smile
Soft like
A cave
Phew
Your headlights
On
The bats are hanging
My thoughts
Dragging slow
Soon the sun
White
And bright
At dawn
The fawn
Wakes too

after things lost in the cloudy past
In the night time barefoot in the plaza
Waiting for the last train north;
I fell asleep in the dry grass
Beneath the stony palms

Excuse me for my brunt ******
Of sunset said the desert horizon
Purple with desire and shame.
The apathetic ending of the turning and
The more expressionless thoughts.
Sorry for the stars, said the night
Not necessarily apologizing but merely conceding to
The infiniteness of ending (all the way). The owl
In a canyon on a cactus, on a cold winter
Night, in a dark deep winter night. Even this
The sunset understands, the dawn
Like knives to the spine, digs in. Said
The punitive earth, here I am for you to explore
Open my oceans, abuse my stones.

Isn’t it great to know that yesterday,
The wind blew afar in a distant field, against
The overawing forest, and got plucked into the dark
Like a black hole?
Or this morning, along the coast a gust
So strong it knocked over a billboard that read
“The universe
Is everything.” But sure as day, tonight
It has arrived with a vengeance, banging
On my windows and opening my doors;
Unnerving my sleepless mind with it’s
Belligerent thighs.

Out of these desert hills
In washes beneath my feet
The red heart of the mountain
Licks the dry, smoky air.

Above a golden eagle glides
Like a loosened dream above
A sapphire spire, dipping
In and out of view.

Below the rocks desire
Rain, embers of thunder
Thigh to thigh the caverns
Devour existence slowly.

Between me and the moon
The mountain, and beyond that
The owl's hidden perch, a vast
Meadow of occult stars.

When the sky changes, the heart opens up
And out of cliffs boulders hang on prudently
Like the skin between your fingers
The rain becomes the air. Soon
The desert is trumpeting its flowers
From all its highest fingers
(Were they ever really there?)

Soon enough the earth becomes bare
And what's left hides in caves.
 
What need do I have for flesh?
Simply the desire to be cloudy.

The farthest horizon
Have you seen it? In purple
Sunset above the mountain,
Above love, above grief.
I have.

For the mother's breath
For the baby's rest. and the rain
Let in. But the ice is thin
The water's cold.
From the daily woes
The keeper's best
Sucha  reverie, well
it's hooked like a net on the docks of
Inside of me

Erase it all, the heart
The desert. Even the horizon
For me.  One two the stones
Fall. The mountain. For you
From me. Escape
Eternity. The short trees
Even in the fog of the new rain.
From you, to me. It all makes sense
To build a home, a nest. Goodbye
Flowers, time to disperse your seeds
For you, for me. Though I have travelled
So far, for so long. Stardust
Moon.
You ask how I speak so naturally
Look at where I have lived.
The desolate inspires. phew
. lllllsalin the breakdown bewty

the flower petal less
the moon wide
walking through the desert
in novembers purple dusk
Adrift without sail
no anchor no shore
to hold for to find
open up the heart wide
feel the stones inside
cold and dry the
empty vein bleeding
in the sand but wait
the sound
of nothing
the horizon hanging
like a senseless smile
a broken bone
fractured and frail
I carry this dead weight
forward and beyond
through bloodshot arroyos
through canyons of stars.

What is truth?
A gnarled old tree
No wind can rustle
Even death
Is nothing but stars.
What is love?
But the way of water
(the way of the ancient ones)
The gentle erosion of stone.
The mountain looms
On the purple horizon;
Dusk is startled and the animals
Emerge from their caves.

Erase everything, start with nothing
Soon the desert takes hold, and
Doesn't forget. Stars. Love well your
Green eyes vanished long ago.
Not without anger, storms in reverie
Dark and menacing. The flood but
I wished for more. A million
Miles of wetter paint.

Let us walk in the woods in
The mountains in the fall and
Convince ourselves side by side
Hand in hand (and alone in our
Minds) that not only do we have a problem but it is the very jaw we feed from that gnaws at our every moment of existence.

Let us see the sun light and shadow
And climb mountains and swim
In rivers after flood, let the sunlight
Caress our very bones and let us
Be in love with every smallest
Particle of energy and with the
Whole weight of the universe.
And history, let us not forget it is
One of harmony and despair.

The desert in winter at night. That is
Where I am now thinking of
Such things  mountains and forests,
Death and peace and time

Beneath the stars
The desert stretches
Its dusty mountains
A coyote howls.
Beneath the dirt
The flowers stir
Like measured whispers
To a lover.
The owl flies away silently
Leaving drops of blood
On the stones.
Soon the moon will rise
Like heartbeats.
All those hidden thoughts of mine.

What i seek the *****
the desert's way
of saying
I will show you the mountain
The moon. I will take you
Away from morning
from love the constant
thought of snakes
of stars

It feels good to be on the ground,
doesn't it? Laughing in the sunshine,
crying in the rain. What a feeling to
have, what a wave to ride. And all the
stars and all the minds and every single moment and more. Mountains crumbling and the river long gliding off into the ocean, again. The sound of thunder a flower in spring and all the dew, I never knew, of just how great it is to be alive until the moment I met you.

When you look at him in the face
You can see yourself, a horizon
Of broken mountains. His eyes
The stars, they offer no solace
To the long dark nights. His smile
The sunset, it’s a million miles
Off.

When the last vision is lost
And the moon rises over the red mountains
Does the soul crawl forth and walk again?
The only angels, buzzards riding on thermals
Greet the flesh with hunger. And what
heart opens to see the beauty of love
Of compassion? The perpetual expanse
Of stars above, the great unfolding.

The air was thin and blue
When I saw you, down by the shore
Out among the dunes. The summer
Dream was all but dead, and all the
Foolish knew that love was all but over.
Yet I found you, scattered like the
Shells, smitten with rage. Those
Green eyes, those sad inlets, ebbing
And flowing like breath. The rest
My dear forget about soon,
the wind will be sour, the waves
Strong. We have only
The dark pine left to hide.

Riding on the. Bus in the rain
.up the tormented hill
In August. The people
Stir.like leaves. I'm
Leaving For the coast
Playing with my thoughts
With a. Stick. A lighted candle
Through the battered night. i go

At night all the birds
Return to all the trees
Up on all the hills
Where the fog first touches all.
How they sleep in the cold fog
On the twisted trees! At night
When the golden light fails
All the people on the street
They head to the trees as well, a thousand
Dreams of endless possibility, they trudge
In the twilight up the hill. Ah the end
Comes heavy in a heavy fog. As I close
My eyes new shapes appear. I lie beneath the
"stars and shake".

I'm at the end of life here
On the end of the train
California is truely
A flower in the fog.
Stop your sorry branching
You silly cloud
Stop all that smilin;
There's a certain smell to aging
The sea breeze

In the gray fog I wake
Beneath the green pines
Out along the penisula
High above the sea wave
With an empty feeling
A heavy hollow pull.

Through the windows
Of the mind memories
Come and go like
Deer in the tall ferns
Moss on the old stones
Transparent and cold.

Soon it will be time to go
Down along the new coast
Out past the gray pines
To watch the sun set
Hear the waves crash
The deep earth moan.

If you could squeeze
A poem
Out of me it would be like
A cloud against a great mountain
A trembling of flowers. I know
The mesa sunset. The balancing of
Moon and spirit.

And then the synthesizer made a come back
And then a supernova. And then anxiety.
Cam over.
I’m out in the desert, studying the meaning
Of rain in the human brain. I’m learning
More about myself that is. How the blood
Talks. How the shade relieves itself.
I’m offering you sunsets. Roots set.
The lonely land and sky

Out in the desert there is silence --
The mountains blinding ambivalence  
As white as the bones within.  
Slipping out the rocks, more rocks
Come the unbending tongues of time, satisfying
The antemortem joy once again.
The sun holds the sky, the whitest wing
The earth holds the rest, all of your thoughts
And the rain.

This land is bent
As yucca lingers *****;
Firm beetles push into soft
Sand, where soiled climates
Wet.

The arroyo is bloodshot and
Drunk, ******* rocks
Lay naked in sweat beneath
A colorful horizon of a smoked
Cigarette.

The moon, lubed, rises yellow
Bliss over ******* of
Red mountains embraced in
Night’s hard pressed
Kiss.

The stars are asleep and
Yet they keep a memory of
Love between juniper sheets;
Where you and I, and I
Weep.

The ****** sun is
Thrusting high, the day is
Climaxed in birdsong cry, without
Ever having to grasp (alas)
Goodbye.

I tend to stay as silent as possible when two minds interact
It is my camouflage
And the woven fragment of argument
Of ecology and war and more
Is overwhelming when the moon is so full
And the killdeers know not if it is a grey morning
Or midnight
But I am the last one left
Alone by the fire waning
While the embers orange dim off
And the cold creeps in from the swamp
And my thoughts begin to ignite
On the horizon of perpetual sleep

(But it is I who walk the gravel road in shadows
So deep into the forgotten night, into the illuminated swamp
Making sure the flames will not uproot again).

That the sun begins its life in the palm through the eye
That the poem must be ignited in the heart
That the poet must be ready to jump off the edge smiling
And the clouds of white move across the morning sky blue
And everything has a mouth and a stomach
That the end is only the beginning
And these circles I make with my mind have reason
And my bones will remain in the ground after I die
That the smoke will remain rising after the fire
And the whole ground was burnt in a grey texture
The green and the golden of the saw grass swaying tantalizing
Taunting the loneliness in my shoulders and arms
That the afternoon descends in a purple hidden
In the cypress until it too awakes cautiously
That the soul wonders alone in a watery forest
That the sun sets in an orange yearning
(I will not soon forget the feeling of vastness
An open prairie and the emptiness involved)
That the gate to heaven is locked tightly
But one can slip in backwards on their spine
And the moon will shine if it can like a pearl
Hidden in the bottom depths of space like a seashell
And the somber piano cords of the night descending
Can make even the strongest man cry
That the salty streaks are like rivers to the ocean gliding
That one never truly wakes, wakes from the dream
That the sun will rise tomorrow.

repeat swamp, desert
same thing to this
damp mind. cold
soul. Sold
a long time ago
searching for my poems
in drawers
in deserts too
no more shores even

This is the remains of progress
Pale dry dirt exposed in the
Tropical air rising out from the
Ground showing no sign
Of an ancient city constructed
No signs of life now but
Below below and out of sight
Is where the Crayfish waits patiently
In damp tunnels narrow
For a change to come.

Blurs of new growth needles in
Green patches on the horizon
In the afternoon I looked at
Cerisa the god of uncertainty and she
Smiled gold fears at me and later it was
A sunset expressed in fractions no
Complete notion of day or night
And night was compressed light
As Eric the god of thought held his
Chin up to the moon
And me the god of loneliness could not get over
How simple how simple the clouds were
In the midnight shadow could not get over how
How beautifully silver they were

There is a path that leads to the heart of the swamp
That navigates the land like a vein
Start out from the Oasis Visitor Center and head south
Toward the Ocean like a single drop of rain
Fallen from the ancient summer storms
Along the way you will become much more than yourself
You will become part of the swamp and part of the cypress
The air plants will hang on your flesh and the spider webs
Will break on your sweaty face and crawl in your hair
Take your time and become patient because things will gradually start to show
Like a dead crawfish dry as a bone
Or an apple snail shell floating on cracked mud
Here there is both life and death
And now you are beginning to believe in neither
But be patient because things will start to show
Like the red tongues of the air plant
Reaching out to lick your swampy skin
Or the pale ghosts of the Spanish moss
Hanging like questions from your arms
Out here you will feel miles from anyone
And the best part is you are miles from anyone
Out here you will start to understand yourself
Your complexity just like the habitats scattered
Mixed in pieces like an ancient puzzle
One minute cypress another minute saw grass
One minute sunshine radiating another minute shade.

But continue navigating this vein and you will reach the heart
Its beauty beating loudly now the green trees are pulsating
Around your blue lungs you breathe in the air and feel refreshed

The living green ferns are reaching out to grab you
Hoping to take you away forever in the swamp
The living green ferns are reaching out to take you away now
And if you feel like you are ready, let them.

For how long did you know my father?
For how long did you help him make bread in my grandfather’s bakery?
Was he genuine like me?
Was my father shy? Was he timid?
Was he strong and bold?
Did he ever hide any secrets?
Secrets hidden deep within his flesh and bones?
Please think carefully about this
Did you ever see my ancient thoughts in his lonely brown eyes?
Did you ever know his brown hair would be my brown hair?
His eyes would be my eyes?
His flesh my flesh?
Did you ever think that my father was like a book waiting to be read?
And that I was his words invisible until now.

I walked out from Eric’s trailer at 10:15 P.M.
I opened the metal door into a world of darkness
And nothing was known
I stepped down onto the crushed limestone that led home
My feet wrapped in soft flesh
With limestone pressing its white edge against my cotton skin
Like the way it rubs the back of the silver swamp sleeping
The night was damp cool and windy
I could smell the tropical cold in the air swelling
It pressed against my face like a soldier
It said to me, “I am to be reckoned”
It was a chill against my spine
I continued walking toward my house as if
Not knowing anything more than myself
A blink and another thought given but
Here I could only hear the sound of the wind
Rustling the branches of the cabbage palm
It was like a snake in my mind
Another gust of wind and I was further
Now all I could think about was the stars
Candles in the distance
Mysterious and deep as the flowered orchids nearby
Cast forever in the forested dark
They were holes into time
Gleaming bursts of something I will never understand

More limestone stretching against my cotton feet
More fears and more anxiety
More beautiful unknown and more gleaming fires
More of life and understanding and love
More of me feeling like a sword
Cast between the bridge of fear and love
Falling like a tear into the ocean of the night.

A few minutes of time spent between Eric’s trailer and my house
February 11th, 2012

On January 27th, 2012 a life was lost
Along Highway 41 at 1:45 in the afternoon
Outside the Oasis Visitor Center
A women lost control of her vehicle
Corrected her mistake too much
And flew into the air like a nervous egret
The gas tank broke upon impact with the limestone
Cracked open I suppose like a frown
The flames ignited immediately
The driver was able to escape through the sunroof
With a few brave men pulling and yelling
I can imagine her thoughts as she escaped
And peered into the wild swamp and blue sky
Saw the green wax myrtle and the brown cypress trees hanging softly
The passenger however was trapped and within seconds
Died, she burned there in the swamp
Visitors from afar saw her life vanish in black smoke
86 years of existence taken away by the highway
That was completed three years after her birth.
(And of this line let us celebrate her life)
___________

And of this loss for a few days after
All were sunken with fear and uneasiness
All thought of how quickly life can be taken away
And within a few more days I suppose we will all forget
Her death and carry on with our own.

Out from the warm-depths of an infinite sleep
Away from the cob-web dreams of the night
Me and her awake into a reality and bath in warm sunshine

Morning breaks the horizon and now it is moving
Across the undeniable intimidating blue sky
Moving in colorful waves but in silence
Peeling off the shrouds of sleep around our eyes
Bringing life to our bodies and to the world around
We glide and smile through the tropical vegetation
But no we are not alone there are others also gathering
Precisely estimating the strange reality of this morning

And look, there in the water
A bird that is
Swimming
We all feel the damp of its black feathers
We all feel the excitement of its peculiar existence
The anhinga breaks the water and smiles at us.

And look, there along the bank
An alligator basking
We are taking pictures and we are thinking deeply
With every bump of armor a million years of thought
The alligator opens his eye as we walk away.

And over there
Another bird is preying
It is white and grey and blue and red
It shifts its neck towards the water like an exclamation point
And no sooner breakfast is served for the great blue heron.

And further on
Something is breaking the
Water
A hundred or more creatures of the canal swimming
Shimmering bright black and brown on the surface
The Florida gar is slapping its tail in the air.

And on and on and on the creatures of the morning stir
In anxious anticipation of the fateful day
An infinite amount of possibilities hang and fall from the sky
They are falling among the cypress and saw grass, and into the water…
And into us
And into us, holding hand in hand
Me and her breathing in the tropic air, fresh and alive
Taking in all that is to be found, all the possibility and truth
We continue walking along to the end of the boardwalk;
We can go no further…
I smile at her through the orange rays of the morning sun
And kiss her musical lips.

A red-bellied turtle lay
Nestled between the
Saw-grass edge of the trail
I ventured

It spoke of patience
And existence

I studied this
Strange creature
For a brief
Bid farewell
And headed on
My way.

It could be as simple as a seagull
White wings enamored in the morning blue
Or a smile from you over coffee
Underneath the soft light of the green cedars
That draws our bodies from a hazy sleep.

The village stirs, the people come and go
We amble hand in hand down to the shore
To see the golden waves, the golden grasses
To survey the flood-tide rise to our feet
To watch the ocean dispose of her shells.

If infinity is just a number
Then this morning will surely pass us by
The flood-tide will fall back into the deep
And the sun will trace its grin across us
And soon our lives will disappear as well.

So we walk the shore and gather the shells
And place them in our small crimson bucket
Shells of purple, orange and blue and turquoise
Bivalves and lightning whelks and sand dollars
Wastes of the dead, things that have expired.

And so to us one day our time will come
And we will be washed ashore by the flood-tide
Our bones will be nothing more than swirls of calcium
Our flesh will be nothing more than grains of sand.

And in the morning the Gods will come
With crimson buckets and gather our thoughts
Which fall through the grip of eternity
Of which time can’t take away.

Outside of my body the minutes fall like rain
Time sweeps the edges of a great ocean
The heart beats and the blood flows within
Confined and hallow I wait to escape eternity
Beyond which death awaits in a stifling wind

Today the rains fall among the green pines
On the sandy island the seagulls grounded
I look out from this tattered wooden home
Out across the grey water and beyond
You wouldn’t understand my thoughts at such a moment

Too dreadful for words I carry this dead weight
Like a slave I brood this awful feeling
Of isolation a prisoner of existence
I shift my body as if it wasn’t mine
I walk the beach alone amid the summer storm

The rusty wire of time shatters
And a million beads of life and nonlife
Plummet into the unconsciousness of the waves
Like seashells they lay strewn upon the shore
To be smothered by the waves the waves.

I tremble my mind to dream condition
I open up my body my bones and veins
I wait beneath the stars in benediction
The river flows within me and beyond
These lonely eyes turn into golden fire.

Flesh covers our bones
But reveals our movements
Two hands clasp a leash
Where a blonde puppy sits
Underneath a picnic table
And a baby dressed in white
Crawls across the wet
Green grass
The soul is an entirely different story
Most people imagine a transparent
Sphere or a box of golden liquid
Or an angel dressed in white
Or a ghost hidden beneath a cage of bones
A prison
But I’d like to imagine a separate being
As real as the people sitting in the grass
In a circle maybe not even one person
Maybe several strangers
Of different age groups, children, men
Women, Grandfather and Grandmother
That’s the perfect scenario, a heap of bones
Twisted together in unison over time
But then the rain falls in a drape
Around the oak tree, it’s like an
Umbrella
Reality sets in -- the soul is nothing more
Than what you see -- a young man
Sitting on a stool in front of the coffee shop
Blond hair blue eyes
His hand trembling as he lifts the cup to his mouth
His blood boils, his flesh turns ruddy
The rain falls ridiculously from a grey sky.