evening comes by the lake
reflecting the cloud and trees
my mind also a mirror of all things

i saw the google car today
i hear the crane coarse cry
once and then again
he starts this time every night

on the dock
a man made four square thing
surrounded by its opposite
the water so unshaped unformed

a fish jumps at the flies
then another and another
there are countless ripples
too far away to hear but not to see

darker now
the redbird’s song joins in
that last of the day birds to sing before the dark

swallows in the air slide and swoop and glide

the crane again
each creature an instrument
singing to the dying day

but what about the google car
it drives itself you know
i called my aged mother and explained to her as i drove past it
amazing how the world is changing

the bullfrog has joined us now
and the bat replaces the swallow
darting ever here and there
i wish him luck since his meal is devouring me

but the google car
what is it devouring?
technology devouring man and nature

i sit here in the midst of wilderness
with my laptop, wifi card and cell phone
am i connected of just swallowed?

there is no car and driver any more
the car is the driver
or is it that the driver is the car?

the crane again
in the background the traffic of the interstate
so prevalent and ubiquitous that it seems to not exist

because everywhere and nowhere are the same
there can be no thing, no thought, no word
without something outside it to define it

and what defines us
our skin?
or are we now beyond that

with the laptop etc extending my reach
i can share all this right now
with just the click of a send button

but still something is missing
i wish a bag of bones were here
so we could talk

converse in that old fashioned way
like old men on the bench
outside a country store

what would we say, that bag of bones and i?
all this and more, much more
and there would be silence without discomfort
to punctuate the meaning of the words
outside to their inside
defining them

a tree frog joins the chorus
just for once
but i know he will not be able to resist
hearing again and again
how beautiful he sounds

night creatures now
my laptop screen am unresistable attraction
to the tiny bugs
beating themselves mercilessly against it

so dark now
i cannot see the keyboard
only the screen
and woe, i never was one to type
without looking at the screen

smashed a mosquito now
feeling so powerful

a star appears
but it is only a jet
coming my way

what is it bringing
to this cyborg scene
gobbling up the gas and air
heating up the globe

the night is so alive
sound increases
inversely proportioned to the light
bullfrog again

and now the first time cricket
or is it cicada
lying in the ground for all those years
waiting to be resurrected
like the spiritus mundi
slouching toward bethlehem to be born

The Lake Has Many Faces

The lake has many faces
Reflecting all our moods
The clouds are full of places
The land is full of floods

The lake turns many colors
From blue to green to grey
The sky becomes another lake
Connected in some way

Like mirrors in a barbershop
One upon each wall
Sky and lake reciprocate
Reflecting one and all

The deadly dark, the lilting light
The sun, the moon, the stars
The need for speed, the crying creed
The beast, the best, the bars

Across the lake a light calls out
Begging me to come
I would if I but knew the way
I can’t find my way home

The teenaged brown eyed seeker
Reads Elizabethan verse
Like an ancient incantation
To slake her ***** thirst
For her own Beloved
But the words seem more a curse

Why is it “Lord” and “Father”?
Where has Abba gone?
All that Kingdom, will and power
Turns the daily bread to stone
And the evil and the glory
Leaves her so alone

Lovers know temptation
And deliverance!
But must hold equal station
If they are to dance.

Your talk of my trespasses
And Heaven where Thou art
Your “hallows” feel like gallows
Around my trembling heart

Your words have left me broken
To shed my tears alone
For I can never love you
While you sit upon a throne

The old man had been alone
For a long time now
How long? Hard to say…
Time had gotten slippery in recent years

No one else lives there
He does it all himself
Cooks, cleans, pays the bills
He had paid them hadn’t he?

He didn’t mind the solitude
It was peaceful
People were a mixed bag
More trouble than they were worth

He had his dog
That mutt that wandered up
And wouldn’t leave
Despite his protestations

Speaking of the dog
Where was he?
When had he last been seen?
Ah, that devil Time again!

Maybe he had run away
Wasted money
On that bag of food
Molding in the pantry

What’s for supper?
Check the fridge
Well, that makes supper simple
An egg or an egg!

Should I check the expiration date?
Not without my glasses
Which had disappeared
Around the same time as the dog

Fried or scrambled?
How about scrambled
Like my brain
Still got my sense of humor!

Turn on the gas
Where the hell are the matches?
That’s right
I took them to the fireplace

I left the TV on?
Yep- Now it’s on the news
Then comes Wheel of Fortune
And final Jeopardy

Whew! I’m out of breath
From that short walk
From the kitchen
To the living room

Better plop down in the recliner
Power back and rest a spell
And anyway
Today’s news seems worth watching

Jeopardy’s on now?
Did I doze off?
I must have
What’s the question?

Something about bombs
And London and World War II
Oh, I know this
It’s a German word!

What’s that smell?
It is so familiar
Tip of my tongue
But I can’t say what it is

Is it danger?
But it seems to smell so sweet
Wait- final Jeopardy is here!
I have to concentrate

World War I
A new weapon
That contains no steel
I know the answer- It’s GAS!

All my shows are over
Nothing left to do but eat and sleep
Christ! I forgot to cook my egg

Grab the matches from the fireplace
Amble back to the stove
Strike the match

They are here
They are always here
I walk among them
So often unaware

Arising full of pain and stiffness
Is it cancer?
Struggling into my clothes with grunts and groans
Making coffee, spilling grounds everywhere
Grabbing my old stick
I stumble through the woods
Looking, listening.

We all affect each other
In intended and unintended ways.
My old hiking stick
Destroys the wondrous web
She spent all night making.

What power I have over her.
What power some have over me.
Even the smallest ones
In my gut or veins
Deciding only
If I live or die.

I am the destroyer.
I am the destroyed.
Flood and fire
Tooth and claw and fang

What does it mean?
What does it all mean?
Anything? Nothing? Everything?
Together we all rush along
A herd of cows on stampede
Pushing, pulling one another
No one knowing where or why

But the whole has its own direction.

“Come over here” I said

She came
Laid herself upon my shoulder
And melted into me
As only she can do

For a long time
There were no words
No need for them
Just that powerful thrum
Like a lion’s purr

It held us there in silence
Like kids in awe of church

It assured my faithfulness
Without any need for promises
Or pledges or oaths

It will
As long as one of us can ask
“Come over here”

All white beneath, all blue above
All crystal in between
Where blackened spires reach ever higher
Entombed in frozen tears
Holding tight with all its might
Ice clasps every limb

Too soon the sun shows his fierce face
Now each tree flames afire
A narcissus and Icarus
Their beauty brighter, higher!
But beauty’s price is sacrifice
Tis come the judgement hour

The fairy world the storm unfurled
Now meets its moist demise
A southern breeze stirs tops of trees
Stand still - you’ll hear the cries
Losing their cold they lose their hold
Letting loose with sighs

Their tinkling sound heard all around
Sharp shards of broken glass
Each limb and branch an avalanche
To forest floor below
Comes crashing down from oaken crown
To kiss the melting snow

The thirsty plant
Need not know
Who pours the water.

Prayers of
thankfulness
Need no deity.

They Shot the ******
I say they-I don’t know who
Though I have my ideas

The farmer up the creek
Whose pasture he has flooded?
For this his fur is blooded?

Perhaps the hunters saw him
And shot him just for sport
They seem to be that sort

This one is the third
Two more the other day
I loved to watch them play

He floats fully distended
By gas of dead for days
Like some new Hindenberg

I glide by in canoe
Kick him with my shoe
Launch him in the breeze

He floats on down the lake
A Viking burial ship
Dying for our sake

You can live three weeks without food
Three days without water
Three minutes without oxygen

Which death takes longer?
There is a simple test
Hold your breath.

You say you’ll love me always
but can that love express?
Inexplicably connected
we connect without success.

Play dates, texts and evening swims
You hurt to hear me now,
so one must find the reasons,
then things can fix somehow.

You suggest you see what’s best
by having stopped to think
of reasons why we must not try.
You sent me them in ink.

Head says I need less neediness.
Head says you need more trust.
Head says contact is much too soon.
Cold turkey is the best.

But after saying all you think
you ask twice for response.
and signify a little wink.
that takes my breath and sense.

And since you’ve left me senseless
and broken me apart
perhaps our love I can express
without my head but heart.

Now I know not of reasons-
things we can control.
I know love has its seasons.
I know I feel your soul.

I know naught that can be taught.
I know just what I feel.
I know there are no rules for us.
I beg borrow and steal.

And what is real and what is dream?
And how can one decide?
And when to stop and when to start?
And when to end the ride?

There are no answers in the mind
They harbor in the soul
How do I feel about time to heal?
The word “heal” comes from “whole”.

The soul knows naught of “either or”
It sings the song “both and”
It knows naught of right or wrong
It forfeits for The Friend

I see two trees twined in the wood
have rubbed raw one another.
I see them healing one on one
each giving each their cover

So if I ignore what you implore-
to give you time to heal
and instead of time I give this rhyme
that rings like your bell’s peal.

That fills the room like our first Ohhm
that stabs you to your core.
Let us forgive and let love live,
and row toward the roar.

I folded towels differently
Before you came

Now I still fold them carefully
Although you’ve gone.

Why do birds exalt in song
At coming of the dawn?
Unlike us, they never know
If it will come again.

Deciding now which way they should go
To and fro

Hiding in this green protective world
Nature unfurled

Lining up dead limbs to mark the way
Nothing to say

Fallen tree blocks the old way through
As though he knew

Trimming trails no one will ever see
No one but me

What have you brought?
No more than I need.
What I have sought?
To let my heart bleed.

What have you done
But let me be wild?
Trust in a woman
Joy in a child.

So many levels
Of vision, of existence
Each a door into its own universe

What can you see?
It depends on how you look
A telescope, a microscope?

Or how you travel
A plane, a train, a car, a bike, afoot
Each different speed reveals a different world

Summer’s heat slows a walk
Along familiar paths
Allowing eyes to see
The things they missed before

I’m at the cash register
Picking up a to go order
Making small talk with the hostess
Suddenly I hear your voice
Close enough to touch

You had to hear me but you do not turn
I look at you not looking at me
I make the leap

“Hi. Good to see you. Meet my friend.
Hope you are doing well. Take care.”
What goes unsaid says far too much.

You the independent one
Wanting someone only to enhance you
Needing no one to complete you

Me, with my holes to fill
Fill with someone like me,
Someone who needs me just as much

I pay the price, take the food, walk away
Unsteady on this new ground
Born in the earthquake of our meeting again


Each morning commute  
Every black car met
Makes false promises of your return

No sacrilege is love
That dies but yet remains
To nurture what’s to come

you cannot love
from the safety of a distance
you cannot know
what you cannot touch

You cannot taste
full joys of her attention
She cannot love  
if you fear too much

so the time has come
to abandon desperado
to take the plunge
to loose the widening gyre

to trust her love
to hand her heart your ego
to make the lunge
into her frightening fire

She was by here earlier today
Flirting with my wild imagination
Revealing lines and stanzas
The way you casually drop
Your clothes upon the floor

I yearned to pick them up
Preserve them with ink and paper
Or little bytes flashing on a screen
But I was busy
Doing more important things
So it seemed at the time

I should have remembered
That these gifts of poem pieces
Are more perishable
Than an overripe peach
And disappear more quickly
Than flakes of snow on warm earth

We are Slowly Dying
(A response to Thanatopsis)

We are slowly dying
Myself, and these old pines
A little here, a little there
Almost imperceptibly
Death on her cat’s feet comes

I sit with these old friends,
longing their lost limbs
some already fallen
some just now losing needles
like me, my hair

We sit quietly,
Neither saying much
Neither needing to
All has been said and done
Or need never be

Soon it will be time
Signs are certain now
All point in one direction
We, transition forests
Bow to new emperors

We’ve no need to complain
Of bugs eating their bark
Or bugs eating me
It would do no good
So we sit silently

How to end this tale
Now that it's been told?
Perhaps a sweet rhymed couplet?
Or some old musty moral?

The sunset goes down with us.
No meaning does it give us.

A mournful mist anoints the silent trees
A leafless limb grows crystal orbs below
A musty mother pulls them toward her womb

They tremble at the coming of the breeze
They fear the fall to what they do not know
They see the earth absorbing like a tomb

At last their weight overcomes their will
The tearing loose, the terrifying thrill
The bursting open on the forest floor
The ecstasy: One is no one no more.

Cliff Perkins
November 6, 2015

The spider taken by the wasp,
The pointless web remained
Betrayal for the butterfly

For fun some say
To pass the day
For reasons still unshown

To feel worthwhile
To cause a smile
To reap what went unsown

To ride the wind
To curse the grind
To perish all that’s lost

To play the game
To hide the shame
To never pay the cost

If all this rhyming makes no sense
Perhaps you’ve never known  
I have but one true audience
An audience of one

Why do we write?
Why read, why share?

Poems are stories
Stories of our terrors and triumphs
Our love and loneliness

Candles calling to each other
Allowing us to huddle in the dark

When a man comes to you
And tells you your own story
Then you will know that your sins are forgiven

Ernest Kuntz and Katherine Ketcham
The Spirituality of Imperfection
1992

I first saw him
Hiding in the woods edge
Looking so intently
What are his eyes saying?
Fear? Want? Desire? Need?
Yes. Yes. All of the above

He is Always on alert
Watching my every move
Hyper-vigilant
Ready to dart way at a moment’s notice

Days and weeks go by
He is friends with my dogs now
But isn’t that the way?
You can trust dogs more than people

If I ever move toward him
He pirouettes
and maintains our distance
It is a dance we all do
like many other dances

I respect his needs
I make no move towards him
No harsh words
Just sit and wait
and show myself
Give him room to be

If only I could have had the strength
To do the same with you

9/22/2012

Today he walks up and licks my hand
I speak softly but still make no move to hold him
He comes again, more relaxed this time

Suddenly he trusts me and the dam bursts
He is ecstatic, tail wagging, big smile
Eyes laughing hilariously

I rub his back and say something like:
“So finally you decided to come in out of the cold”  

In that moment of saying those words
I fall apart sobbing uncontrollably
Full of this happiness/sadness

When the crying stops
I ask myself: “What was that all about?”
Then suddenly I know
I am a wild dog too.

Eyes are windows to the soul
Showing what’s inside

But when I gaze the lake
See herons flying in the fog,
I realize

Windows work both ways
Filling us with beauty
Reflected in our eyes

You wish to hear the languages you do not understand
The ones you knew before you learned to speak

To see and hear and taste and touch; to dumbly walk the land
To empty out, to make your mind more meek

And so you wander wild in woods, unmade unmasked unplanned
With rock and rain and bark and bloom and beak

You own surprise with babe’s new eyes, you know now why you came:
To know each thing just as it is; to never know the name
To **** the flower, to lose the power, to lust as you unlearn
To smell the earth, to die in birth, to drown in sweet return

I am drawn to wounded things
The tattered butterfly
The lonesome dove, the long-lost love
The way we live and die

The terrapin with broken shell
The tree by tree rubbed raw
The broken leaf, the mother’s grief
The mouse in my cat’s maw

Why focus I on things that sigh?
Why not sing happy songs?
To live and die, it helps to cry
The wounds help right the wrongs

You asked what was missing
“Is it the ***?” you said.
As though love were just kissing
And thrashing in our bed

It hurt to hear you say it
Did you not understand?
That I must pray-- not play it
My love be real, not rand

The body’s temple to the soul
So do not test God’s wrath
By mistaking as the goal
The thing that’s just a path

And there are many paths to tread
As you and I have shown
Charkras aligned made a true sign
That we two were God’s own

The bed’s a place you may embrace
In honest conversation
And feel the force of *******
That’s more than mere sensation

So when I say I’m missing
And when it makes me cry
Please know it’s more than kissing
And more than some *** high

Please know it’s about touching souls
and not just getting kicks
Please know it’s only heaven’s drug
That gives my Suzie fix