Some say
she is lost to writing poems
snippets, little vignettes of beauty
so much nature inspired, obsessed
with green, botany driven desires
forever in skies, blue, or black with stars
meteor showers, falling, melting
like the liquid silver, red sea of mars
crashing waves, her days
tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry
there is no fault, in words
no shame to be made
would be a sorrowful price to pay
she is writing to find
some truths, a sleuth, a seeker
of going within, without doubt
writing to find herself
most days searching out signs of life
to feel what it would be like, to be
in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers
of garden lily bowers
to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal
climbing invisible ladders
in orchards of apple blossom Springs
to sing, sing, sing

I sit here, brood
a twisted mood
think how
to forward move
how to undo
a tricky tightrope wobble
people pulling me
I cannot walk straight
need time to deflate
lose these traps
want to break free
of the need
want to find me
really love me
please go away
you cannot touch me
cannot know me
or go with me
cannot show me
anything I need
from you
I am the juice
the fire
the truth
the liar
you are reflecting
back to me
places I do not desire
I am feeling
dismayed
afraid
of the price
I've paid
now is the breakaway
the reckoning day
no plane
no train
no half insane
free to go
free to assail
derail myself
from you
far and
gone.

Redolent rain
steel train
streak of blue
racing through
night lands
rainy window
sallow moon glow
no reservation
nor hesitation
time to travel
some things
to unravel
go looking
unhooking
my mind
drift into peace
float in my seat
high in the sky
sweet sighs
to feel again
finally
understand
there is
no plan
only
a dream
within
a dream
to feel
a life time
so surreal.

This antiquated avenue
of ghostly breath - breathes
throne of the copper queen
and all who've been
will never be the same
sun drunk days
desert agave grey
hilly houses, some withered and crumbled
another vagrant, I amble
as red mountain swallows the sun
into night's sky, so soon
the fading light of day
startled by the moon.

I think of mountains
the way they climb for the sky
losing their way through clouds.
Looking up I never know if they reach the top
or if they see me way down here?
Some kind of ant, I dig for rocks
a pocket full of turquoise blue
a miner for Apache jewels
exposed by red dust winds
as the day chips away
and carves a night
into black obsidian.

It was soft, a purple shade
lavender, lilac made
of flowers warm, we breathed
deep the inhale, swirling round
sweet the exhale, falling to the ground
reaching deep in soul
the sink, the swallow
birds of spring
songs to fill
the hollows.

I looked into the center
into the circles of gradient color
the pollen, sun gold anthers
sepals green, holding close the petals
smooth stemmed, impossible heavy heads
beautifully in rings around trees
the honey sweet blossoming spring
busy with new born bees
that fly in fragrant dream
discovering lilies bright as sun
watching bees with flowers become one.

It was shallow water, rippling
a watery moon quivering
on the surface seen
It was night fire
burning water into steam
gray smoke screened
It was willful drowning
upon a lily bed of lies
parched a wilted garden
slowly withers, dies

Walking this ground
we gather rusted remnants
pieces of a lifetime placed
within the hollows of our shoulders
and from the hardened blades
the bones, this is the place
where gorgeous wings
are formed

If wind
would have known
could have gone
another way around
if I had not been too soon, too late
to hesitate or let myself go - unbound
piled, buried too late to be found
if I'd not have stayed away far too long
yours would be a place
I still call home

Iris, how you shallow breathe in winter
shiver under clouds, laid in a bed decayed and brown
days of cold in a garden underground
long through winter
and spring only ever waiting
to unfurl the color blue of you.

How you flew, newly feathered
a fledgling falling from the sky
but upwinds sailed you far and high
carried you, strong through clouds
winged and wild your arms
fingers running through
the updrafts of cold,
cooling, then
warm.

When finally quiet comes
the long pain of night's trudge
the unmasked soul dredge
swift an arrow, piercing
when friends have all gone
in the silent dark before dawn
this is when you
miss me.

High in the hills wends the road to your home
steeped and flowered by lupine towers
after long slumber, the waking hour - warmth of summer comes
our feet grassed and green, we wish on dandelion dreams
watch tiny parachutes glide into the sea
this place is wild resplendent music
we have become more than ourselves and slowed
have stopped to feel our breath grow
making a path cut from last year
we are slipped and sloped toward shore
silhouetted just before the end of sun
when the world sinks silent
but for the deeply toned
hum of whale song.

He bought and sold things, much like the man
who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals
mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones
they remind me of you, floating high and lofty
out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings
drifting from the city moving countrywards
many are mesmerized by the migration
the fantastical triumph of levitation
they wait for days, years under trees
but not I, I am no longer drunk by
hot air and helium dreams

Kaleidoscope eyes
spirals amber brown
meld and move, turn and groove
exquisite mandala art, they impart
colored rings, how they bring
your soul to me
so close

Celestial, indigo
sparkling stars of fire
molten rings of planets round
the silent sailing clouds
float across a sallow moon
hung in a sky of glittered jewels
diamonds, opals, pearls

In a drowning river I went - to swim
only a short while with you
the flail and falter of cruel water
caught in the reigning thunder
impossible to breathe when held under
yours was a killing lure to be sure
a death trap of words
but no steel cage can ever hold
a sky full of beautiful birds.

Watching a turbulent sky
birds in the drowning clouds, cry

Early, this silent earth
in the stillness before sound comes
before the sky, the narrow line of light that forms
my ears not yet attuned to this world
search for noise, waiting for the first bird
then soon a chiming bell of birds
a cactus wren that comes to drink of sun
or deeply sweet, the air with mourning doves
that woo and coo before the dawn
a soothing balm, a bliss that fills my head

When winter melts
footprints of mud, this path
now a screen of green
I cannot see, lost I listen for
calling words, the haunt of forest birds
cry, they call before the storm
deep a swell of rain pours
that wild, brings another Spring
mossy soft this budding floor
mist and petrichor that waft
attract, they meld and melt
sweet into the soul

I am waiting for the spring, the change
the variance of green
waiting for you, a fool
swim, I drown in this moon-pool
dark down a tunnel of night
I make my way by braille
only to touch, to see
a rivulet of rain
before the sun
that swells of red
and strays away
the day, a heart
that long ago
fled

Wind and dark the night I pine
stark the grasp of longing
branched and vined
blue mourning
deep in soul
an echo
calling

When through my fingers
your hand slips
taste of your
fleeting kiss
lingers
drifts

Paper winged
when torn, I stutter, stammer
spiraling and falling
only in dreams softly sweet
once more a butterfly
brilliantly winging

The final blue hours of day
the falling to your sway
the mad of reason slipping away
under the pale moon, of night's dawn
with stars all strung, you'll come
so soon to taste, to kiss me
a crushing fire, to quench
to melt, to take me

It is nothing hard to find
to be the stillness inside
the slowing of time
sink into the tranquil divine
the drift and melt away
of mind

It is nothing you cannot know
the unwinding slow, the softening of soul
the water trickle, splash and sparkle

It is something worthwhile
to let the moment be
swallowed by the sea
to be the shore, to sit and wait
ever at the gate of the unknown

This valley, belly and backboned
a blanket of snow - stitched and gone
textured trees, willows wind blown
here where an early moon heaven still hovers
here amid the last smoking sky of cold
a chirping of morning birds unfolds
singing a gleeful goodbye to the moon night
winging before the sunrise
the blooming of daffodil springtime
and too, wisteria tangled vines will climb
reach for the calm of violet skies.

This is the shadowed imprint, the trace left
ice melt and sea drift of time erased
soft-shod footfalls once apace
this ancient path we travel by
wild with beasts, fledgling trees
of downy wings
we cry, learn to fly
stay awake to see the night
how light penetrates
moon tangled through trees
our souls to illuminate
stars light the way
carry us ever further away
once per chance, never again
until morning

When you came from mountains
came washed from seas
you gave me words
told me everything
like two birds or flowers
blooming in the Spring
the green of everything
soft and mossy dream
it spoke of love
told me everything
when you came
gentle, sweet with rain
not an ordinary day
the way you came
and told me everything.

Moss and moon-green Spring
fully bloomed, the dogwood trees
our breath mingles ever in the ethers
a place where sweet the soul will dwell
and shall not die nor wither

Crocus flowered violet grass
scented sweet pink hyacinth
yellow primrose metamorphosis
inhale we drink and can never think
only lose ourselves
deep in fragrant amnesia

Until beyond this meadow
when day recedes into night
and the scarlet sky of purple blues
is swallowed once more by
the molten, pearl moon

A flash of hours flew
and strayed away the moon blue
sparkle and glitter of skies
all starlit strewn, our interlude
the fire of you
the meld and melt
how it felt
to be seen in this dream
within a dream
to be found
the night we fell
unbound

A Winter Ship

At this wharf there are no grand landings to speak of.
Red and orange barges list and blister
Shackled to the dock, outmoded, gaudy,
And apparently indestructible.
The sea pulses under a skin of oil.

A gull holds his pose on a shanty ridgepole,
Riding the tide of the wind, steady
As wood and formal, in a jacket of ashes,
The whole flat harbor anchored in
The round of his yellow eye-button.

A blimp swims up like a day-moon or tin
Cigar over his rink of fishes.
The prospect is dull as an old etching.
They are unloading three barrels of little *****.
The pier pilings seem about to collapse

And with them that rickety edifice
Of warehouses, derricks, smokestacks and bridges
In the distance. All around us the water slips
And gossips in its loose vernacular,
Ferrying the smells of cod and tar.

Farther out, the waves will be mouthing icecakes —-
A poor month for park-sleepers and lovers.
Even our shadows are blue with cold.
We wanted to see the sun come up
And are met, instead, by this iceribbed ship,

Bearded and blown, an albatross of frost,
Relic of tough weather, every winch and stay
Encased in a glassy pellicle.
The sun will diminish it soon enough:
Each wave-tip glitters like a knife.

Sharp shard with blood, it cuts
your armored heart of crystalline
no one knows you, nor gets in
barbwire wrapped and shut
black, the deep - you've fallen
your desultory descent ever sullen
gasp of strife that smokes
and chokes apart your life
makes a slave of you, alone
calls for your blood
and bones

In the night air, of ghostly moon
starry the darkened blues, quiver
some falling from the sky to startle
under murmuring trees, we rest
and never sleep, we seek to know
what night will conjure
strange drunken allure
of the celestial

Planetary fools
entranced by moons
magnetically pulled
ebbed and fallen
just another day, we lay
soon swallowed by
the sun

Strange path, with green overgrown
a place unknown, a wild bird haunting calls
as if to wake, coax the light of dawn
wet my steps, break with day
I wait the sun, to come
lighting slow, a lonesome home
or far off hills of grassy yellow
I hear the smaller birds too
beyond these trees, among the reeds
sing glorious amid morning's meadow
and I, entranced deep in nature's glow
can only hope to follow.

It is nothing hard to reach, looking outward
countless distractions, how they move me about
I play a game, circling moon-blue rings of sky
see a rivulet of stars quiver by.

It is nothing easy, fretful, I tremble with night
dark unnerving path, I run and hide
amble, fumble my way to reach inside.

It is something worthwhile at times to swallow a river
dredge miles of soul, to crumble stony towers
reconstruct this apprenticeship
slipping back into softness.

At last the end of rain, the pouring all of day
I watched desert birds, thirsty - perched, bathe
sunset, a stretched string of blue, unraveling
a flash of light fading into black
splash of gutters overflowing
water drops, the rooftop
drips upon piled rocks
just outside the door
my glad goodbye
a drenching day
sulked away
void of sun
the teary sky
cried

He is from fields, endless prairies
runs with buffalo on the Oklahoma plains
all of nature runs through him
restless as a river, he is winding
weaving, fording the depths of soul
masterful, he spends days exploring the outer lands
his hands must be winter leather worn, and warm
in Spring he gathers flowers for his lady's home
sees her essence in sky blue clouds
wanders the salt creek way back home
or sometimes lost in the wild hills
he may lay all the day, watching shadows fall
the wane of sun that melts into moon
or watching storms in gradient greys
windy skies sway with darkest rain
he is soaking in all that he can hold
all of nature transforms his soul
his words are woven - spun gold
sublime, are his poems
to behold.

Love silent, falls
it touches soft, invisibly floats
unseen by the scope of eyes
comes brushing by, or comes in a down pouring,
wet washing the soul, unwavering, wordless it unfolds
travels most rugged terrain, smooths the way
there is no season for its efflorescence
it sits, a silent bud, any moment to flower
always we know it's fragrance
it is the way, the path
a flitting, ethereal flower
one, that we can never grasp

Strange glowing orb
mystical magnetic oracle
points us aimlessly
in and out of love
pushes and pulls
the tide, spellbound
sea wrecked, sandbarred
left high and dry
deep in the night
foolish we, two
fools of moon

Never wait for me when far in fields I've gone
mad and wild flowered, abandoned every plan
my mind ebbed and fallen, no never call on me
if when I'm drunk in halcyon hills of day,
or in lucid colors of a pastiche floral parade
never when lost in splendorous meadows
a bird of peace, in hills I fly
amid some heavenly place
where I can only but
dream to die.

Our eyes met
softly, fluttered danced
and perhaps again
shall never meet
still, twas love
miraculous
beautiful
thing

Our days
like pearls come
ever from darkness, sprung
we've come in human form
twas always
always love

The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding
then revealing the way you should take,
the road dropping away from you as if leaving you
to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,
when you thought you would fall, and the way forward
always in the end the way that you came, the way
that you followed, the way that carried you into your future,
that brought you to this place, no matter that it sometimes
took your promise from you, no matter that it always
had to break your heart along the way, the sense
of having walked from far inside yourself out into the revelation,
to have risked yourself for something that seemed
to stand both inside you and far beyond you,
that called you back in the end to the only road
you could follow, walking as you did, in your
rags of love and speaking in the voice
that by night, became a prayer for safe arrival…

by: David Whyte
excerpt from SANTIAGO

vast silent sky
dusk of life, stillness in the fall of night
the soul unseen, hides
at times is felt, like tremors of moon
shines much like stars, blinking us awake
startles, illuminates, if only a moment
to glow, to radiate, then swiftly fades away
back into night

Green tangle, narrow spiny fingered
your prickling sharpens, midday's heat
bearing scarlet flowers
this bird feeder
a drink

How fire builds, born of warm remembrance
far or deep in heart it burns, sparks
a flash, how lightening strikes fly
achingly, beautiful pieces of sky
tiny embers burrow
swept inside the soul
a call, remembered
will burn, burn
indelible

Winter's unsteady weather
cold, cold, hot desert
on this walkabout with severe angles of sun
icy mornings drip into the sweat of day
the impasse of giant stones the gods have laid
to stop or climb another way
egos travel irretrievable, sink into what is real
here we scale thorny towers of denial
revealed, peeled in layers - to cry, to smile
meanwhile awakened, shaken
from the sleep of our amnesia.

I don't know why I wallow
curved, I meld into the hollows
sunk and swallowed
a pale yellow sun, I follow
whittled, slim cored
dark from sullen caves explored
here where I await the glowing moon
a relic jewel, to light the path
for me, a sad and silly fool

Driving east, I leave the sun,
still behind mountains, to burn
east, vastly deep, cold cool desert
early before mirages sweep in waves
oceans of stones, smoothed round
flooding, tumbling cactus down
early, under dawn's flowing gown
billowing, red sky of fire
on back roads, Apache trails
seeking souls, lost within the Dragoons
rest, I sleep amid ancient bones
celebrate, dance with ancestral ghosts 
free, our spirits roam
the Cochise stronghold

When I can no longer dredge, move water
dragging silt through sand, disappearing
my hands tied by seaweed, clawed and crabbed
strange ocean of paraphernalia, I trudge the land
my lips, red crusts and salty bled
fingers stiff, rusty locks, rubber gloved
swallowed up, fastening round a net, a trap
to pull the ocean in