There are larger nights
Where suns dance away
    On western shores
Quieting creatures
Before they unleash
    Wild howls, primal roars
Where deep drink lovers
Tangle in easily
    And desire more
Where all is echoed
Nothing is mortal
Raw souls together
   Glimpse evermore

oh, you smart modern congregation
tell me, what exactly is stored in your barns?
how profound is thy soul’s ache for divine treasure?
is your instinctual compass correctly tuned?
does the tongue give life?
your own eye plank removed?
have you worked it out?
been filled with light?

or, do you remain crippled by fear?
deeply frightened by inconvenience?
fallen too deeply for your high security fortifications?

oh no! your growing paralysis returns!
and the rise of your stage presence
while exerting your home crafted gavel
on the holy observances of beer, curriculum, square footage, and service length
eroded by lofty incantations, stanzas of gibberish
perpetuating the operation of the institution
without a corner on truth, the convenient followers
indulging on driveways, bashing your empathy

let go of your systematic card house!
meditate on the
                other than
on your knees…let the soul cry!
beyond the void, illuminate anew
consider Creator, and the power of your dormant empathy
love love love
let it be re-written on your heart!

To the mothers pouring coffee
On mother's day
    In to-go cups
Handing them to half-awake dads
    Who take it to their co-parent
Still asleep
In between satin, down
    and flannel king size ambien sheets

To the mothers, who reason
This holiday to be their last
Summoning ancient strength
Yet again, at the end
    For their own

To the mothers
Who made plenty of mistakes
Who let their kids down
And somehow
Someway
Have swallowed all pride
To do their best, now

Thank you

This life-sacrifice IS seen
But is too often, too heavy
And holy
And sacred a thing
To speak about

A friend just survived
A terrific storm
Of great loss
It would not let up
Nor let her out
For months
    and months

And once subsided
Her mother
Then her father
    were lost

And her heart
Split
And some rawness came out
And some of what she was
    lost too

Perhaps that part will come back
But it's not so important
Because she now stands
As only one can stand
Who has looked this terrific storm
    in the eye
Who has ridden out such a storm
Who has seen
    The beast
But she still stands
Yes, she still stands

And the earth should know
It now has
A woman of terrific power
And terrific knowing
Walking on it

with that smile
let's skip the pleasantries --
take me to where your courage begins
and the fear that haunts
the shackles
    still carrying or falling away
tell me the story of the flower
    you saw today
and the decomposing tree
tell me of the butterflies
of the colors that penetrated your retina
    and made it's way through your body to please your skin
what are your thoughts and feelings
of the shameful practicality of architectural right angles?
how would you redesign the room that we're in?
or, would you rather
    burn it down
    and sit down
    in the dirt together?

Someone told me
My poems sound like they're
Written
Two hundred years ago
By an incomprehensible lunatic
To which I can only reply
"Whitman or Emerson?"

Some go ahead, to trip or prize
To allow common day
Some go on further, to their end
Relief and win at lay
Some go past, eyes-filled guilt or pride
To that which won't return
Some go further, to never was
Utopian bliss-filled yearn
Few stay here, hearing today's bird
Perceiving now's great space
Magic greater than fore or aft
Mind and body in place

In a dark Inn of sour brew
I speak it plain and slant
I clothe my wolf in sheep and cape
Exerting can from can't

Pounding ******* the minor chords
I summon all my strength
Stopping for neither rest nor test
But pushing on at length

I will find courage when its lost
With fuel of good or ill
With fire of heart, and lungs that draw
I give up all but will

With quick detachment
    from the school of fish
Down depths darkened
    to majority's wish
Resolve gracious endeavors,
    minds still free
Love and kindness hides
    in ****** poetry

sitting - finally now
at day's end
imagining
this evening will not last long
but still - it lasts long enough
for my mind to forget some
of this rotation's subtle niceties
and focus on uglier regrets
    suddenly
becoming - THE WORLD
crashing it's weight down
and cognizant flight
goes left and right!
what must be done?!
    a long walk? fresh oxygen!
    alcohol!
    that cigar bar?
    that other bar I saw?
but before I can quickly medicate
my same mind
    calls up that night
we laughed so hard
together
the way you smiled
and I strain
with every bit of heart I have left
to hear your voice
with hope
that my shoulders
can let it all go

Stand on letdown point
And check out the view
Can you see beyond it?
Those that can seem few

I hoped you would be one
Seeing impermanent shores
Able to speak of the possible
But you've left me here once more

Sipping mixed vermouth
Light meditation
    on love and truth
Conjuring lines of ancestral breaths
Wondering which crossed similar tests
My grandfathers
    who labored the same
My brave grandmothers
    conquered no fame
Whisper now
    'cross space-time's gap
It's the one we share
    reach over, tap
You must live quiet, in my heart
If just a small bit, a tiny part
Your blood goes on, in my veins
Beats remain, while others refrain
You're a buried memory
    a forgotten voice
I'll listen to you now
    if I had the choice

Recalling a botched conversation
Is the worst
It's calling up witnesses
Directly to your brain
Enabling the 3D film to begin looping
In every failing, torturous detail

But the larger loss
Which is somehow known
    to only your stomach
Is where the conversation
    could have ended -
With two souls
Momentarily hitting the same beats
Increasingly less alone
Echoing unifying cadences
Together
Understanding
Reinforcing -
And enflaming the heart
Inside both rib cages

And instead
It's two beings
Who can't even hear each other
From the other shoreline

Sitting on a rock
Which is providing
Unexpected comfort
    (Fitting)
I recall the time I ignored
Your dissertation...
I would regret the adventurous path -
Practicality is advised -
One should consider all -
Every life choice with great care
    More filled than less
So, with a slow inhale
Of immensity
    Of smiling, of laughter
Let me tell you
That I would do it again

The heartbreaking parts
To Hemingway
Are finishing all his books

Life's longing for an embrace
Ceases not
After second eight

This only works
If you judge me
Like your mirror

Love fills everything
But small failure
Blinds me to it

A kid told me
The only way to really share something
Is to "share a picture of it
With a poem
And a detailed description
Then talk about it for while"

And I admit
He's pretty much right
But even then
Do we ever really
Get to completely share
Everything of Anything at all?

That does not mean we're alone
Just that
    (Like anything)
When there is something shared
On a deep level
    (aka least fraudulent level)
We should not take it
Lightly

So I'm asking
How excited
About the sky
Do you get?

Two hundred foot shadows, I cast with ease
While steam dances away from porched coffee
With blinding light, I recall last night
    <grin>
Morning's inhale, quiet peace

Sacred weight to some known names
Warming glows, beyond quick flames
The path's finds are mostly lost
Blankets protecting the sudden frost

Brief love is greater than none
Tiny truths, more than some
Sunrises they are, reasons to wake
Keep fresh in mind, for soul's sake

Maps have regions that can't be seen
Pegs that fit, never intend to be
Betray not truth and love known
These are gifts, these your own

We deeply miss
What we never were
Other's lives - so appealing
So we emulate the best we can
In both becoming and reflecting
Do gifts of passions occur

lapsong souchong in hand
and writing
as the sun
blossoms
in the full
expanse of
the atmospheric prism -
a few shades
dismissed to a
short recess
to play
on their own

and the wind
sits still
only an observer now
joyfully allowing the
lake, the colors, the writing
these undisturbed moments
together

Sinking organs
Surrounded by unshared smiles
Failing in the center ring
Witnesses to my trial

NOW will be impressed forever
Dying my canvas shade
There are no corners to hide in
I am a fraud, I have been made

Seeking not high words
The cat refusing to release my tongue
Lofty clouds quickly vanish
Today's truth in the saddest songs

Grab a pint and sit with me
Tell me what you thought
While reading that short Hemingway
Or that sad one from Frost

Did you follow, or were you lost?
Do you care, or fell more blah?
What exactly did you see?
Did life reveal in raw?

How important is this art
But much more valued shared
Even if we don't agree
Together we rip the veil

early on the dock
the shipping dock

peaks peaking out atop
flatirons and boulders
still holding snowpack

some captains awake in their cabins
others guide their crafts to port
arrivals from madison, aurora, santa fe
hulls of soybeans, corrugate, and lotion

on the dock
reading efficiency and transit reports

quick greetings to the captains
then talk of black coffee
of nicaraguan beaches
of all that is easily accessed
by the regulated echoes
written on each soul

while small sparrows investigate
mullein and hawthorn
in tall yellowing grasses
and towering windswept clouds
move silently
across a dark exploding
dawn’s expanse
revealing the intentions
for the day
and all
start a new rotation together

Fellow lost soul
Share a flower-scented thought?
Or still bouncing through the dark
    A hawk scaring off flocks?

The world creates peculiar friends
Difficult lessons to learn
But also bright lights
    Third to the sun and the moon

Like writers and readers
Capable intimate exchange
Or fear-covered nonesense
    With lies for truth's sake

Three visible stars
Glass of tempranillo
The final pages of
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Clear calm skies
Breaths settle senses
Like calm leaves after wind
Quiet spreads through trees
And the house
Returning to roots, foundations
Sharers of the evening moon
Heaven and earth - drowsing
The dormant volcanoes
We are, occasionally able
To release hints
Of the indescribable thing

Small Colorado mountain library
Had too many books, I guess
And was selling them, a bag for a buck
So I threw a handful in a bag
    I wanted to read
But also, some fifteen cent gambles
Which happened to include
"The White Pony: An Anthology
Of Chinese Poetry" 1947
A compilation of poems
Translated into English
Some brilliant
Some three thousand years old
Or older
(No one seems to know)
Some notes in the margins
And underlined by a previous owner
(Also brilliant)
And this fifteen cent investment
Is opening a world of old masters
Who can speak to me
From their world of wars
Concubines and starvation
To my domestic modernity
With ease
With celebration
Of life's simple things
These are not foreign souls
Masters, yes
But utterly relatable
From their quiet reflections and virtues
Under the peach blossom tree

our hearts
beat time
we are adam
newly awake
enjoying the sparse
beauty of life
eternally changing
eternally the same

our hearts
beat time
we are trees
giving forth fruit
enjoying the universe
at our feet
eternally changing
eternally the same

our hearts
beat time
pure light
sets thoughts ablaze
our fates
not equal
impermanence
supremely and sharply
sensed

the general sits in the corner
he did not go to their alma mater
sipping his latte
reading hemingway for the first time
wearing jeans and button downs and
cowboy boots
enjoying the drink and
wishing he was elsewhere

in the days that open Spring
bestoyed to its residents
    newfound dreams
and ridding of arctic air
   that ruled the wind
reminding winter to rescind
this moment in time
    decisions, it seems
are made by the meek
   turned rulers and kings
as the earth and moon must know
to grant a few days to gentle souls -who-
like the newborn cubs and flowers
have some sort of understanding
    with heaven's powers

thoughts are improved
with natural desires
of great love
of un-monetary riches
incomparable yet-relatable
compassion fueled graces
& unboasted expressions of
divine handiwork

with a disposition of see-both-sides
you carry enormous doubt
that a single soul shares
the immensity of feeling
towards this morning's joined
moon-and-sun-rise

while also knowingly-free
from lessons learned
from childhood whisperings
from connection with stars
from rationale conclusion
this to not-to-be

today's form is best - with
gracious smile, confident chest
for skies lie in deadpan blue
onlookers played, fortune's fool
unleash your comment, set all aflame
is this not why you came?

sharp words sting for days
washing little off to drains
shadows only in stature seen
until final loose fate will deem

what can't be cleaned, cannot wash
others perceive as blatant loss
to what? but ancient wounds
left ages before midnight's spoon

love pierces through such shame
caring little about a name
healing is returning, granted or not
lessons learned though never taught

you must have a mind of grace
to wildflowers in winter see
touch softly and kiss these
not waves, but small tastes
not dreams in empty mass
but humbling feats
unexpected, sudden sweet
apparitions by rocky pass

what are beats and breaths for
other than to address
the enormous storm
inspiration itself
rattling the door

fresh ratlings, rather
past imitation of old masters -
(warm blankets)
    and quiet shores

perspective lost in current caste
fractured scenes through warped glass?
vertigo pools below highest dives
grass' color, either side?
dear friends who turn and wound
mirages of heros and majority rule?