font springing from
the depths of a shallow pool

boiling with fervor
under glass-still surface

with effort i see i can see
through my own reflection

golden-bedrock streambed
red sand flowing downstream

and i know that this river
and my life are forever one

it was all very normal
until the pink elephant
walked in and whispered
in the prime minister's ear

when things calmed down
i walked up to the elephant
and while admiring his wings
i asked him what we all wondered

"i delivered the unfortunate news
that the arctic monkeys have all
finally frozen" he said with a smile
have you ever seen an elephant grin?

the wind left my chest with the sight
and blacking out i fell to the floor
the next thing i know i wake up
it's time for the next speaker

the blank page
scratched and scarred
by the pencil

the sharp pencil
sacrificing itself
to the page

the written page
does not feel tarnished
by the pencil’s residue

the dull pencil
does not feel diminished
by the loss of graphite

both page and pencil
when disfigured and destroyed
fulfill their potential

to walk the path of beauty
is not to shun ugliness
but to lovingly embrace it
until we can see
how beautiful it truly is

to walk the path of beauty
is not to hate the hateful
but to smile toward them
until they see their worth
in the reflection of our eyes

on a bright sunny day
in a wildflower meadow
near the mountain top
i fell into the chasm
that broke and split
me in two

in the dazzling sunlight
seated on a petal
of a long-stemmed beauty
the breeze whispered my name
and turning around
i found you

in the darkened recesses
of the innermost cavern
and under the trapdoor
hidden in the floor
of the bottomless pit
i found you

as the dark night splits
and relinquishes its grasp
succumbing to dawn
and all of its unnamed colors
the wind blows

as birds settle into nests
above a family of deer
all mid-morning napping
deep green cottonwood homes
along the milky-brown river
the wind blows

the sun seems angry
early afternoon
luminous yellow-white
fluffy but heavy clouds
dotting pale-deep blue skies
the wind blows

the thunder arrives
then chilling gusts
driven before the storm
turning day into darkness
and with wild ferocity
the wind blows

as if in reverence
as the sun nears the ridge
silent beings of all kinds
watching as the dying sun
slowly ignites the clouds
and still the wind blows

the low-hanging clouds
mean that god is in residence
on the mountain of serpents
just west of here

tendrils of holy mist descend
adding depth to my perception
of the many canyons and rises
that are just flat foothills most days

adding understanding
by obscuring
showing me more
by showing me less

only god moves in this way
i bow my head in reverence
for my father, god
for my mother, nature

indistinct ripples of memory
dance across your eyes
your name is known but vanished
like the time since i saw you last
like it was a different life
it seems so long ago
how has it been
twenty years

my friend

dawn breaks coral-fire
valley-gathered fog
soaked with sunrise

river exhaling mist
currents toppling downward
cracked limestone bedrock
canyons split by time

desert-barren foothills
frozen waves of earth
breaking on blue ridges
bristling thick with fir-tops
cornered coyote mountains
snag wayfaring clouds
compiling afternoon thunder

its like i'm in this tiny aircraft
climbing steep and fast
when we hit rough air
i lose my grip
f
r
e
e
-
f
a
l
l
i
n
g

i
n
t
o
a deep
and dark
bog of depression
and it always alarms me
how i'm always so surprised
because it always goes this way
i trudge thru the swamp of sadness
just like atreyu did - a smile on my face
my savior up ahead and behind her
is this tiny aircraft-its always there
and i always get in gratefully
the mire quickly shrinks
and i do it all again

rushing wind whistles by
most sounds swept away
but i can hear rustling leaves
that must be thankful
for the strong stems that anchor them
to strong branches
just as the tree must be thankful for roots
which are thankful for the dirt
even though the blowing sand stings
as it erodes the tough bark
which the tree is thankful for btw

i hear birds chirping but none fly
it's almost like today's their sabbath
like maybe every so-many days
they take a rest
or maybe it's just too windy to fly
either way two are mourning
due to the lack of work they put in
as they were lazy and built a poor nest
i found their chick dead
on the lawn this morning
i guess we all reap what we sow
poor little thing - i blame the parents

in following the tree's example
i guess am thankful that
i live in a beautiful place
and what else should i expect
it's wyoming
it's windy
it's just that it would be so nice
to have one
even if it were just one
calm day

i'm sure the birds agree

at this moment i am
crystalized and solidified
into this body and mind
that i call my self

when i die i become liquid
i exist only as a part of the whole
just as floating ice dissolves
my self will disappear

until i become a self once more
just like rain freezes to ice
melts and flows to the sea
then evaporates and falls as rain

but for the present moment
i pray that i'm as strong as a glacier
scraping canyons for mountain springs
carving a better world for those that follow

still, i stand still

history making
still, i stand still

untold years
thousands deep
still, i stand still

distant peaks
runoff snow
universal life-blood
still, i stand still

river bend
greening life
stampede muddy
valley floor
still, i stand still

hundreds flee
panicked hearts
shrieking predators
swift advance
sun-bleached skulls
but still, i stand still

heap of kin
dead and dying
trail of death
circling omens
battle wounded
facing demons
and still, i stand still

my kind ends
my home gone
tipped balance
lost race
drying tears
last breath drawn
sun is down
still, i lie still

he's lived ten thousand lives
he's died ten thousand deaths

he's helped uncounted beings
and he's hurt everyone

he's summited every peak
and died in every valley

he's been both emperor and thief
both savior and tyrant

he has laughed and he has cried
he lives and then he dies

still faithfully he trods
the path that never ends

the path seems like a circle
but the circle is a spiral

or so he tells himself

hope's words soar to heaven's height
leaving much time for contemplation
during the silent fall to earth's reality

when one quietly walks the path
of wisdom and compassion
they scale the tallest mountain

when planted on the highest peak
the whole partake of both
heaven's height and earth's reality

deep cronk spruce-needle muffled
feathers a dark too deep to be black
seeing each other she changes course
resonantly calls and turns toward me
spine-running chill butterflies exploding
she slows connecting with me in study
three infinite seconds to remember

feathers grown long
downy infant transformed
dependent but independent

rotting nest disintegrates
slight breezes destroy
breaking home

unanswered food-prayers
turn terrifying sky unknown
into tempting frontier

brink-teetering feet
relaxing death grip
releasing into life

between stanza lines and
between line words and
between word letters and
between letter sounds
are found the
space and silence
that beget them all

seven months of winter and
the bone-chill of winter rain
in late may is an abomination
and it being saturday
makes it unforgivable

to whom can i complain

the deepest truth lies
between the lines
of every sentance

the deepest beauty lies
between the colors
of every painting

the deepest reason lies
between the being
of something and nothing

floating gossamer shimmers
on heavy sepulchre air
lying dormant in the dark
patiently hibernating in
long-suffering carnivorous wait

white spider-threads echo with
last breath wing-beats and
choking moth-wing dust flies
as they silently pronounce the
rhythm of the timeless dance

this one dies
that one lives
this one lives
that one dies
forever and ever and ever

leaflets flirting with the warm breeze
sunset orange-coral nestling into grassy valley
             universal rose-colored lens half-hour
flower buds swollen with anticipated arousal

impossibly long shadows veil canyon walls
breaking rank, ducks' webbed feet descend
             glass-calm river pool flock-shattered
invisible trout shadows streak water-polished stones

butterfly-fluttered stomach flies with her touch
lightning-flash eyes shine under dark-forest lashes
             full lips birthing angelic-wit phrases
her room-lightening smile erupting with laughter

the greatest generation
are only kids now
i pray they do better
than we

in my sons' eyes burns
a brilliance unmatched
my hope for a world
gone astray
 
my daughter's heart's full
of compassion and peace
my hope for a world
full of hate

the mountain that is his heart
core of lava-basalt pressured granite
crumbled limestone shattered shale
clay pockets eroded sandstone
blowing in stinging swirls
taproot stabbed grassroot captive
rabbitbrush sagebrush cheatgrass
climbing to spruce fir and pine peaks
stony outcrops penetrating
her bluest-pale vaulted sky heart
he and she forever entangled
in life's beautifully rhythmic dance

the thing about the world is
it never stops spinning
it never stops it never rests

the day of all days
begins right away
it begins now it begins today

gathered clouds scatter
among the four winds
together forever never again

like a tunnel with a retreating exit
he felt his life slipping away
tightly held with his hands
loving hands that had never
ever caused pain
life became a lightning bolt
here and gone in an instant
only memory remains

and as the darkness gathers
all light and life into a pinpoint
he looks to his left
(it's always to the left)
and his angel unfurls her wings
and through her eyes he receives
the strength to hold on
and **** the unbearable thirst

defeating the lion, he enters the gate
and upon reaching the tree
the serpent swallows the apple

with whispering eyes he speaks -
"fear not" as the feathers sprout
displacing glimmering scales

the earth-bound is released
strong wings lift the slithering skyward
his flat view of the world annihilated

ouroboros halos appear like shadows
forever attached but never owned
he sees the world  impaled on herself

and now, freed from eden
he enters the garden of the mother
and knows that he and she are one

the bitter fruit of the blessed tree
transformed the snake into an eagle
reborn, he sees the world anew

the sleeping god awakens
opening the heart gate
of unrefined love as
he watches her protect
the children of the earth

she groans in slow frustration
knowing she can't do more
bound by shackles forged
in the cold fires of disbelief
by her self-absorbed offspring

blinded by an unattainable horizon
they look to the sky for guidance
not understanding that
the help they desperately need
embraces them where they stand

so the time-bound round continues
the ebb and flow of seas and love
the rise and fall of leaders and nations
the mountains that once were valleys
in this place only circles live forever

this mountain made of limestone
limestone that long ago comprised
it comprised an ancient seabed
the seabed became desert
and the desert became mountain
the mountain reaches for the sky
but the sky withholds her rain
and rain’s metamorphic power
is power that the desert craves
craves like a lover lost
lost in the cruel cycle of time
but time brings evolution
and evolution the mountain knows
she knows that it’s her lover
and her lover never left her
never left her all alone
alone in the cycle of time
so in time she has faith
faith that she will once again
once again become an ocean
an ocean full of rain

in his fortress
he sits friendless
he's sheltered
himself
from
all

and now

he sits friendless
in his chair
reminiscing
of times
long
past

again, he hears her first
a bright ripple on the breeze
pulses of lonely trilling

glancing skyward he catches
an hallucinatory glimpse
of her sand-stained wings

as if to avoid his gaze
she glides effortlessly into the
blinding back-light of the sun

she emerges head first
her red eye-mask glowing
in the midday illumination

overhead, she trills again
she circles and watches him
she is as curious as he

this couch won't let go of me
every time i get up to leave
i remember there's no where to go
and i get ****** right back in again
like i'm a moon falling
into my cozy earth

the dry straw-brown chains
have started to corrode

the lush green oxidation
of life-bearing spring
is slowly overcoming
winter's ******* again

the frozen fetters will fail

the unknown roars
with a deafening silence
that obliterates the mundane
raising fears from deep within
that we didn't know we had

so we attempt
to pace the time-worn path
one step at a time
one more time

there is nowhere to hide

sleeping dogs don't lie
they only speak the truth
the truth of everything

the truth of every being
is that we all just want to eat
and nap under the sun

unless it's summertime
then we would prefer
to sleep in the shade

i was just a kid
the first and last time
i picked up a barnyard kitten
she hit me with every sharp thing
she had in her arsenal
including her hiss
which i felt as much as i heard
in the same way you feel the rattle
when you hear the snake
that day i learned that
even cute things can be ugly

solomon-shaming lilies
glow in morning's glory and
border the path as it emerges
from the shaded olive grove

stopping me with grace as
sunrise rays warm my face
and dispell the cold night as
the slumbering world awakens

swallow tail butterflies flit
under sacred dogwood clouds
that mimic rapture's sign as they
diffuse golden hour radiance

honeysuckle perfume inspires
birdsong's layered dawn chorus
and i know the tomb is empty
as nature's love envelopes me

blood-twig dogwoods
howl at the blue moon
while hollow-eyed susans
dance on chinook winds

pale purple monkshood
death-rite prayer chants
are swallowed whole by
yellow-throat daylily laughter

the good-news sunflower
tries to misremember the
night-shaded moonflowers that
bind her gospel to the earth

morning glory intentions
are not what they seem
hearalded by down-turned
white-truth angel trumpets

early in the morning
with the world still lost in sleep
the stars told me a story
of a secret they can't keep

a young man lost his way
and walked into a forest
stumbled aimlessly for days
then found a cave to rest

when he awoke he found
while alone inside his cave
the forest disappeared
and now a field of graves

he rose from his tomb
and walked into the midst
a graven granite wasteland
enveloped in thick mist

he wandered there for years
searched for her resting place
and finding hallowed ground
with reverent lowered gaze

in sacrificial ritual
he opened his true self
bled tears upon her stone
and begged her for her help

his dying prayer was heard
by the sacred earth
she relayed to the stars
the story of his birth

he was a son of god
imprisoned in this land
and helpless wandering
was all that he did have

the stars were moved with pity
and upon him they bestowed
the knowledge of his origin
and all that he was owed

the old man raised his head
for the first time saw himself
and brave knight that he was
he walked with providence

he crossed the field of death
back to the darkened wood
lay in his lonely cave
to awaken in the world

i stumbled to the shower
and glancing in the mirror
i saw the fearless knight
in my eyes appear

the ball started rolling
so long ago
the start of a tale
that's too sad to unfold

and each time i gather
the courage to tell it
i remember
i can't take the end

but this map is impossibly
easy to fold
the thick paper
is wearing too thin

it's been opened and closed
too many times
as i look for the road
back to you

but search as i might
in the end i admit
that no matter
how hard I look

even though this old map
has not changed a bit
it no longer can lead me
to you

days that have past
are so out of reach that
i cannot get there
from here

and although this old road
has not changed a bit
it no longer can take me
to you

its very existence
is brought into question
each passing year
in this season-forsaken
corner of the world

the sun’s advance
toward this frigid
wind-blown high north
takes place behind
cloud-veiled skies

the transition from
empty white-brown winter
to full green-brown summer
happens suddenly
and on its own terms

terms that include
swollen buds nipped
frost-bitten daffodils
and late yellow crocus
blanketed in snow

rocky mountain spring is
late april sixty-degree days
trees in full leaf overnight
sticky snow-melt mud
and memorial day tulips

on dollippingtin’s fragglies
in briffelsy puff-tuft
all blashtered and baggsie
a glumpting was shand-cuffed

his flumper was sump-yunned
and when flayed o’er the shill
she snatchered the snubly
and waxered the wheel

and roiling and foiling
the glumpting did skyle
over the pull-say
and into the schmile

he de-ployed a ghastling
when she tripped a scripe lie
and he sarrowed the fragile
when she squatched like a flie

the glumpting was bashered
and turned the gaze mis-erly
mounsied the snubly
and roiled back to briffelsy

the moggetty corpsy was
blotted and ratten
and burbeling and gurbling
it sniffed like a trash-pan

the flumper lain deadsy
was found by the doll-po
and the glumpting was sentaxed
to scorpse in the prisco

morale of the taile:

if bashtered yourselves be
do not waxer the wheel
do not be a ghastling
just be a hap still

rubber ducky billows
bobbing in a blue sky bathtub
floating on a morning breeze

clouds moderating
liquid vitamin d sun
seeping deeply into pores

sundial shadows
belie still feet
connecting patio cracks

sweet daffodil vanilla air
narcissisticly teasing nostrils
spring swirling deliciously

a morning with no agenda

one more last time

the words reverberate
wall to wall with distorted echos
that bounce back and forth
with dizzying speed
overlapping like an
uncontrollable origami rose
bursting with organic need

one more last time

in earnest i tell myself
it will stick this time
my will is stronger than
this bottomless red wine
but the bottle is already open
and my glass is nearly empty
this inexplicable thirst
will drive me insatiably mad

just one more last time

the flesh is weak

this guy beside me the one on my right
with the camel blazer complete with
corduroy elbow patches and
checkerboard leather buttons

he looks like he has a score to settle

he's mostly bald under his
brown-wool newsboy cap
i know because the spot
it dips pretty low in the back

his face is baby smooth but
he has polluted all of our nostrils
with cheap aftershave fumes
you cannot not notice the lurid air

he has accumulated a great wealth
of america's prized possession
and he wears it proudly around his midsection
he must have a hundred pounds there

his dark slacks are clean but old
his white shirt is pressed but polka dotted
with coffee stains the same hue
as his yellow teeth

he looks as if
he is trying very hard
to make an impression
but something has happened

his furrowed forehead
looks like waves lining up
readying to break themselves
on the shoreline of his brow
and there's a storm cloud casting ****** shadows
as it floats above his too-dark eyes
while his cheek twitches and i notice
a tangible jaw tension as thick as london fog
showing through his weighted jowls

i wonder what's wrong

i hope he's ok

i cast him a smile

and i'm on my way

in the face of the giant
sting like a wasp

when cornered by the mob
fight like a cat

under threat of the storm
lean into the wind

as the flood of life rages
float on a fast current

in the deafening silence
sing from your heart

on the brink of forever
be a part of the now

under cover of darkness
the tiger stands still
knowing
she hasn't been seen

but i feel her presence
loud and clear
like i'm seeing
an actual ghost

my first advance
wounds her left foreleg
as she claws me
with her right

the struggle ensues
as we both land
a series of
hefty blows

we catch our breath in
each other's eyes
and see the battle
commence and end

and knowing ourselves
we nod or heads
understanding
we both will win

we go our separate
ways for now
both knowing
we'll meet again

smooth grey stones
bounce across the stream
as if begging for one last glimpse
of the rainbow-toned sunset

as they skip across
the fast current surface
before sinking into a watery grave
as i throw them to their death

auburn sunlight filtering through morning fresh hair
heavenly glow reveals my love’s angelic undertones

intertwining braids of steam rise from dark roast
enchanting motes as they rise to join the warm dance

inspired warbling rises and falls reporting sparrow drama
cacophonous nonsensical song language now silent

straw dry grass **** carpeting compound slopes
winds of winter leaving desiccated shells of summer

children questioning endlessly classwork requirements
kitchen table homeroom littered with chromebooks and notebooks

how lucky can one man be

the fire of desire burns in every heart
until cindered ashes fall apart
revealing the cavern hidden inside
and if it feels full it's just
a lie

everything i threw into the fire
that i might quench thirstful desire
was consumed so quickly and then
the fire begged for fuel again
and again

there is no solace in this place
i am so ready to leave this race
and find in my heart once and for all
the peace that can only come from
the fall

out of this mindset and the stupid pace
to find again a peaceful head space
full of people that care for their neighbor
and help each other to
always remember

that we are nothing but love at our core
nobody wants to live at war
so why can't we  stop the constant fight
and instead see ourselves with a
clearer sight

and feel that our greatest power
comes in unity of every flower
that grows in this fertile garden
that was planted by god's
own hand