the ninth shade
embraces mountain peaks
in the pure clarity of morning

frost clings to sagebrush
in the ascending sunlight
of the third-quarter moon

and as life pauses
to apprehend the spectacle
of a wintry summer morning

my bones feel
the transition of season
as autumn draws near

like eternal lovers
beneath liquid grey skies
rising and falling
water carved and weathered,
the waves of dry earth
giving birth to a mountain
that feels like forever
to a sojourning heart
that reverently prays:

my father, my mother,
my brothers and sisters,
are nothing but earth and sky

the sun-fired clouds
cannot consume
the cool-blue slivers
of tonight’s sky

as nameless colors
dance to the rhythm
of fire and ice
in twilight’s silent waltz

just as many truths
are left unuttered
their presence being felt
but obscured by words

traces of faces
and what they said
places and spaces
and paths i've tread
grace's embraces
the tears that i shed
interlaces encases
this mental homestead

the notes her hand wrote kindled his fire
and he devoured each secret word
with her scripted craft she unlocked an abyss
too deep for his screams to be heard

and his hunger swallowed him whole

the hypnotic intensity of light’s subtlety
holds his disquiet in a trance
as twilight writhes between colorful worlds
in an impossible glowing dance

her wings glinting shades of autumn
as low-angle sunlight fills the ash tree
and embraces all below in golden light

she glides around me twice and falls
scarred yellow swallowtail wings lie still
the cloud-veiled sun mourns a fallen daughter

i knelt to see dull eyes and a worn body
life-scared wings told combat tales
a life well-lived on any scale

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

a book with no cover
lies in our bones
depths of experience
no one else knows
guiding our words
by memories enclosed
written with hearts
by minds void of prose

a land rising from the heart of the earth
imposing itself upon crystalline skies
a history written in the creator's hand
of generations sealed by nature’s guise

the fires of yesterday
reach through the gulf of night
with acrid fingers of smoke
and ember-glowing eyes

whispering like a reality that never was
or a game that never ends
played by a life that is never lost

and in the tongue of forgotten souls
they speak in uncertain terms
of charcoal hearts and burned-out love

for they no longer see the living now
or believe in the promise of tomorrow
failing to see the glowing light
that dwells in their own ember eyes

he expertly constructs
intricate structures and framework
laying the foundations on clouds
(the murky clouds of "what if")
he builds story upon story
erecting a crystal fortress
topping the tallest spires with mirrors
so the whole world will see
how completely right he is

as he steps back to admire his work
he notices the smallest of cracks
in the keystone above the golden arch
that branches as it advances
ripping through the glass castle
which crackles from threshold to roof
in an inherent and utter collapse
that leaves a glimmering shattered heap
of imagined debris at his nauseated feet

boulder blood birth
sheep stomped ****
dying dead debris
haven habitat home
friendly feeding full
planet populace plenty
mutually mothering masticating

a river of dried blood, flash flood
awakened by the charade
of a pretended perfection, broken
hopes for the future gasp for breath

he claws for a branch, suspended
brittle over the black torrent
as if it could hold the weight
of a thousand years

and, like every final breath,
his last breath
is a breath
out

at times my mind and heart
forget they like each other
and they forget about my soul
sometimes all together
so i climb the nearest hill
stretch my arms into the sky
and listen as the wind
calls them to my side

my mind responds first
reaching to my chest
and timidly says "sorry"
"i'm sorry i've been stressed"
my heart forgives quickly
and lovingly looks upward
and says "it's no problem"
"i am sorry that you suffered"

hand in hand they turn
and looking deep within
they find my soul hiding
frightened by the din
they point him toward the view
and in the silence he stands tall
and remembers who he is
and how exactly he did fall

and he reaches out his hands
firmly grasping heart and mind
and together they stand strong
on this mountain top we climbed
and now whistling, we walk
from the foothills to the town
for we are ready for the world
i will not let it bring me down

iridescent inkblot
splats across
sapphire skies

raucously roving
empty and
eroding earth

barren branch
territory and
taloned toes

warily watching
canyon and
cracked clay

in the quiet of predawn
a butterfly awakes
and while resting on a twig
she warms her glowing wings
in the gathering light of day

she flits from bloom to blossom
as the sun climbs and falls
she sips from ambrosial pools
of mother nature’s bounty
while the western wind begins

and in the fading afternoon
as i sit in my spot
she finds the zinnia i grow
in the planter by my bench
and we share a moment

i see her and she sees me
and as she gracefully rides the breeze
my thoughts are silenced by her beauty
and as we watch each other
the universe stands still

bursting billow belches billowing
twisting tornado translucent tornadoes

sparks sear skyward searing
toward tower trees towering

beam blaze brash blazing
toppling tinder torched tinder

scorched cinder circling cinders
tireless tabernacle transcendent tabernacle

sunset blood drains
from transient clouds
as the bone-white moon
hangs in haughty defiance
over a jaundiced prairie

and as the life-giving sun
descends into its earthly grave
centuries of ghosts
whisper their hollow secrets
on the northern wind

they speak only of yesterday
amid the coagulating darkness
having long forgotten
the radiant life of today
and the promise of tomorrow

if yesterday
decides my tomorrow
i am nothing but a ghost

as i wander through
a grove of ancient pine
the ghost of a ghost
turns her blue head and nods
whispering a haunting melody
that dances on the west wind

and my progress halts
for her song chills my spine
even as it warms my wounded heart
and despite her deadly smile
i know something beautiful
once happened in this place

so it has been, so let it be

a dark and sticky net
is catching all my words

i see some flying in the night
but they are too absurd

so i wait and wait and wait
until a worthy phrase

forms in that nowhere place
and emerges from the haze

the heart-fire grown cold
in the face of his demons
but from the ashes within
a phoenix awakens

and by spreading his wings
he swirls a hot wind
and ignites lifeless love
through being a friend

upon water's silvered surface
the wind dances in waves
to the echo of the clouds
as a symphonic sunset plays

transmuting motion into color
and wedding sound to light
gracing hearts with courage
as they greet the coming night

under the ruddy and smoke-laden sky
i stare into the sun's almighty eye
and howl into each blood-moon night
fulfilling the depths of my feral birthright
as my heart and my mind declare war
for my beloved dies upon distant shore
but in this, the face of the final grave
i choose to refuse to be a slave
for there is no escape from this vast sea
and i know she will certainly swallow me
as she swallows each sun and every moon
as she swallows each river’s roaring tune
just as she will swallow this raging fire
just as she swallows the billowing spire
for by immersion she baptizes all
and into her womb all will withdraw
for as we are born we all will burn
and as we all burn we all return
set free by the fire of divinity’s motion
consumed by the depth of the eternal ocean

and yet, here i stand


waiting for her
to take my hand

that bridge was built
with my bare hands
only to crumble
under the weight
of your constant need
the rubble crashing
into the sea below

and as i weep
for the demolished reef
you yell at me
demanding to know
when I'll build again
while lounging in the sun
on your distant beach

but you know what?
that distance
that span
has become
too far for me
it's just too far
for me to care

the silken thread that binds me
to the voice of the muse
vibrates with her subtle speech
in a way i can’t refuse

stitching heart and mind
though tenuous and fine
the beauty of this filament
is illumined and divine

and though i’ll never claim it
i will seek it all my days
until at last i’m laid to rest
no more to leave her gaze

my heart trembles
lying in the dust

wings broken
by the glass
of the windows
to your soul

your mysterious eyes
entice me so

a lily summer blooms on horizons
glistening with mercury and wonder
as waterfowl slow dance in the pale light
of a dying and star-crossed moon
to the hollow echoes of ill-fated waterfalls
that refuse to surrender to tidal gravity
and in the end, it all means nothing

but the sun still rises
and his childhood eyes open
brimming with curious wonder

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

upon seeing you
i see myself
when helping you
i help myself
and in hurting you
i hurt myself

compassion is
the root
of equality

it can be seen in
every morning's sunrise and
sunset every night

it can be seen in
water's round path
from sea to rain to river

it can be seen in
coral limestone peaks
eroding into valleys

it can be seen in
spring's first flush of growth and
decaying piles of leaves

it can be seen in
monarch chrysalis deathmasks
birthing renewed and vibrant life

it is written
between the lines of nature
by the hand of god

understand
because
you see

emptiness
above
surface
of tree
of earth
of sea
space
for leaf
for dust
for cloud
filled
by tree
by earth
by sea
breathing
each other
in locked
embrace
dancing
through
ages

written in each sunrise with watercolor ink
for all of her beloved children to see
the mother paints with the light she receives
creating beauty and sharing it openly

and sometimes, i feel
she does it just for me

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

a frozen flow, like an unfamiliar face
dripping from void to void
sculpts viscous memories from deceitful clay
into echoing tales of a never-was
that bears the fruit of the never-will-be

but perfect waves, like open-endings
are immersed in the possibilities
of living in nothing and no thing
transmuting the phrase "will not be"
into anti-vocabulary

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

flaming darkened glazier
occult window screening
words congeal behind
soupy lettuce being

fish are always swimming
against the drizzle current
of my mindstream eddy
never rested never fluent

the cousin of the e-boy
is a flower antlered deer
he is holding smelly signs for
realistic road construction

but it all was smooshed
by the banana bus split
as it sounded around the corner
of the long lost underwater

parking garage in the bay
last level and i do mean last
very lost i tend to get lost
in there so there and there

is a bat swimming in
miracle whipped sin
at the parcel post nearby
chubby beagles munching

but bugles can't be eaten
unless you try to bite and
to see the empty
but it isn't really there

is it

wait what why

indistinctly
but continually
meeting
then parting
engaging and
retracting
embracing
but withdrawing

marry and divorce

ever present
but never noticed
pendulum's swing

walking after rain

to leave fear behind
like a nightmare
broken by dawn

to live freely
like an unbridled horse
galloping across the plains

to love life
like the sun loves the earth
and the earth loves the moon

to sing and dance
like the wind sings in the trees
and the trees dance in the wind

to see beauty
in every created thing

see it on your face
forming on your tongue
here we go again
your thoughts will be flung

my coiled anticipation
reaction tightly wound
my trigger tripped with words
your intention precedes sound

you vomited your language
blind to elegance
it sloshes in my ear
mood now thick and tense

do you understand
or ever stop to think
how spoken words reflect
your mind's horrendous stink

allowing it to settle
sting dulls with every second
words will not end the world
patience has been beckoned