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16h · 29
full moon lifts
full moon lifts
from left to right
saffron chants
unstill the night
shadows dance
in candlelight
lanterns ember
then ignite

      an
d
s
     of
t
l
y
d
r
    if
t
     ou
t
    of
s
    ig
h
t
1d · 24
he sweeps
he sweeps
the dead

leaves
into little piles

it is a simple task
but he is very old

and this light labor
exhausts him

) side                              to                                             side(
          ( in h is h and s )     ( a b am b oo m broo m )

what will you do
with your string

of time?
the slow notes

of motion
the blood-red bells

of heartbeat?
how will you measure

the fire
and surprise

of silence?
2d · 173
clouds crown
clouds crown
the mountains

in drifts
of grey

and white
they twist

into sticks
of lightning

mist
into whispers

of thunder
uncountable dragonflies drop

and rise
to announce

such skin
and the rain within
3d · 40
wind kicked
wind kicked
the litterleaf
(greengrown gold)

in coughs
of color
beneath our feet

we watched
the late sky
(blueblown grey)

ember into lastlight
into the breathwhite
of waiting winter
4d · 29
two sat
two sat
too to

           gether
upon a rock

kisslicked
and smooth

by the passing river
a green-eyed horsefly

on
and around

his knee
her tongue

in
and around

his ear
he could not

decide
which was more

annoying
5d · 212
this scar
this scar
of rock

unsettles
the sea

as the sea
is flesh

and perfect
and so we came

to the skelligs
baptized

in salt
and spray

to climb
each stone step

and stand
before the wind

listening
to the voices

of our prayers
6d · 28
in the corn
in the corn
                   er of

an autumn field
i found

the body
of a fox

(it was the kind of storm all weathermen wait for)
)repetitious ripples of dappleddoppler(
(within an hour all was scoured whitesmooth and silent)

spring will
un

     lock
the land

open
the body
7d · 220
there
there
is a garden

where
fifteen rocks rest

in perfect swirls
of white pebbles

there
is a garden

where
fifteen rocks rest

and this
is what

they say
Nov 12 · 44
green
green

bodies
of
bamboo
yield
little
to
the
wind
bending
just
enough
to
trust
what
is
not

seen
Nov 12 · 26
there are moments
there are moments
when the rain bells

and pebbles
against the window

when the moon lifts
like the ocean’s only coin

we move
roomtoroom boxtobox

we move
dusttodust

should any heaven hold
both sea and sky

my mother
shall have one

my father
the other
Nov 10 · 32
a family gathers
a family gathers
at the foot

of the grave
in the shade

of a small tree
the gravedigger rests

upon his shovel
fires burn

by the roadside
and smoke hangs

like a halo
from the schoolyard

the children sing
salvation

salvation
one day

there will be
salvation
Nov 10 · 487
the river knows
the river knows
as does the grey

of the rain
the dark windows

of the church know
and the confetti

of leaves wet
upon the cobblestones

he isgone

to ng ue ti pp ed      
                               in to the            
                                              in fi ni te

heis gone
Nov 9 · 57
the leaves tried
the leaves tried
to tell me

but i confused
their colors

the water tried
to warn me

but i misunderstood
the words

the geese tried
to guide me

but i complained
of not having wings

and soon
i found myself

alone
Nov 8 · 36
the church bells
the church bells
sound the hour

but it is the leaves
we turn to

for time
watch closely

at the ghosts
and bones

of autumn
the final breaths

heavy with yellow
and red

we release
like all colors called

and collected
we release
Nov 7 · 33
she
she
she    loves the sound of rain   she   sleeps until noon   she   kisses with her eyes open   she   sits in the corner   she   does not drink   she wades into the river   she   does not eat   she   is addicted to sadness
shehidesincrowds   she  is one of seven children   she   loves tequila   she  gathers ghosts   she   is her own worst enemy   she   cannot have children  she  applies her make up on the subway   she   attends sunday mass   she   is terrified of hospitals   she   has never seen a dead body   she   sings in the shower   she   lights candles   she   does not know how to swim   she   is angry with god   she   never has money   she   trusts no one   she   places flowers in the vase   she   makes excuses   she   collects lladro   she   died in
her sleep   she   speaks three languages   she   has a laugh like sunshine   she   loves children   she   was *****   she   studied chemical engineering   she   wants to be a dolphin   she   staggers with the weight of loneliness   she   reads shakespeare   she   smokes when she is drunk   she   cries in the dark   she   has a small tattoo of a seahorse on her shoulder
Nov 5 · 63
rest area
rest area
                                                            ­            each
                                                ­                st ar
                                                              ­        reaches
                                                 ­   us
                                                        her­e
Nov 5 · 150
re
re
re
imagine
me
in
a
field
of
blue

wind upon wax wing
climb cloud up and down

above

the hedgerows the meadows the strands the things
we do not yet know the music to

until the sun whispers
it is time

and
marks
my
cascade
into
the
hands
of
the
sea
Nov 4 · 33
on the cover
on the cover
of the new york time magazine

there is a man
standing

in the middle
of a crowded new york city bus

he is wearing
a perfect grey pinstripe suit

and a gorilla mask
one hand

holds the new york times
the other

holds a hand strap
my grandmother

upon seeing the photograph
for the first time

knows those hands
to be the hands

of her son
Nov 3 · 20
shooting pennies
my grandfather
went inside

to get more bullets
in a voice

not meant
for me to hear

he said
to my grandmother

he doesn’t have the eye
his brother has

with shaking hands
with my final bullet

i put a hole
clean through the head

of lincoln
Nov 2 · 94
up on the hill
up on the hill
  
an elderly man
slowly made his way
through the crowded bus
  
they think i’m ok
  
upon finding a seat
he asked aloud
to no one in particular
where are we going?
  
or so they say
Nov 1 · 34
more
more
is the occasion

than not
but less than before

washed up on the shore
relics of shells

broken sea bells
that crescent the strand

cloudy brown or green or white
that gentle rub of decay

or whatever might
seek display

jeweling the sand
i keep to myself

jarred away
on a shelf
Oct 30 · 289
halloween birthday
i was born
under the sign
of candy corn
Oct 29 · 70
drunkclumsy
drunkclumsy
with the drop

of it
tap past

to gather
dulling

in the doorway
god only knows

what
un


               d            e             f           e           at           e           d
               d            e                                      at                                     h


does
with so many seams

breaking brittle by
and the sky

blue sky
Oct 28 · 50
in the fields
in the fields
the hay

has been cut
and dried

the final sunflowers list
and fade

to the west
a line

of aspen trees
sigh

at the touch
of october light

two crows
call out

and hold their own
against the hawk

how will you journey
out of this life?

how will you find
that brief dark door?

what will your music
sound like?
Oct 28 · 128
drop
drop                           down                            dirt
(love gently)                  (into the)

s           it
eed
f            it
eed
w          it
eed
n          it
eed

new roots
shoot
and stems
stand
to
the skyblue

                                                                      i do
                                                                      i do
Oct 26 · 49
i have never witnessed
i have never witnessed their dawn departures
or joined in their preparations

what the taste of wind might tell
what clues the clouds or the sea reveal

but each time i wake and notice the boat gone
i keep an anxious eye to the horizon

i have watched their return enough times to now know
how to position the heavy plastic tubes in the wet sand

how to hold the bow perpendicular to the shore
to the keep the waves from washing in

where to place my hands
and the exact angle needed to lift and leverage the boat

rolling it onto the tubes
and then up the sharp incline of the beach

i have learned
how to help

so much so that two of the pescadores
now smile clap me on the back

and say
la próxima vez que vengas con nosotros
Oct 26 · 281
youneedthis
youneedthis
and                               i                              need                                     this
Oct 25 · 42
autumn creases
autumn creases
with leaf releases
it never ceases
until it’s out of pieces
Oct 24 · 34
aut (um)ns
aut     (um)ns
(brella)     stum

bl     ing
h(ope)     less

ly      (ns)
unfet      te

(red)      let
ters       phoe

nix      feat
hers      all

mix      ed
un      done

fall       in
fun       &

fla       me
your       na

me      to
me
Oct 22 · 117
astronomers
astronomers
being astronomers

look through lenses
)warpedandtrembling(

to see
the u n  s   e     e      a        b        l        e         :

raw new light
still swaddled

in mists of ice
and dust

must we
                  make such attempts to measure the heavens?
we must
Oct 22 · 36
morning tapped
morning tapped
the window

go see
what night has left you

                                                       (along the strand
                                                   waves in bright sways)
                                                     )pitched salty sparks
                                                      in pounding sprays(

do not
always choose comfort

or seek the familiar
it is fine

to ignore routine
to hold hands

with spontaneity
to wake

from a sleep
undreaming
Oct 20 · 40
nampula
nampula
wakes at first light

she bundles brightly
and brooms the streets

breathing the blue sky
she walks her brother to school

half naked
she sits in the dirt screaming

she cements shards of glass
to the tops of walls

when rain turns the roads into rivers
she builds bridges out of boards

she carries charcoal
on the back of her bicycle

from the side of the road
she sells puppies from a basket

she balances her belongings
on her head

resting in the shade of a tree
she breastfeeds her newborn

at the checkpoint armed with an assault rifle
she asks for our passports

playing with her friends
she rolls old tires down dirt roads

she moves
through the brutal beauty of chaos

nampula
sleeps at last light
Oct 19 · 59
minimalism
minimalism.
mnmlsm.
mmm.
mm.
m.
.
Oct 19 · 63
late this
late this
last leaf

of bough bright
and stem strong

d              e              a               t                h
c               a              t               c                h  
m             e

slow
the ceremony

of
bone&ghost
Oct 18 · 446
child
child
red

boo
ted

and    
        brilli

ant    
        laugh

        across
wet

        stones
cob

bled
         colors

fire
         light

fine
and

fall
that

         night
         white

a
         moon

         coins
the

can
als
Oct 17 · 57
to da n
fr      sb     so     er     yt     wa
om   ir      ma   en     hu    y
hi     ds     ny    ot     sr
sb    se      wo   fo     un
ed    ar      rd    ro     st
he    ch     st      ne    he
wa   in     ha     mo   wo
tc     gf     tw     re     rl
he    or     ew    da    da
Oct 16 · 39
wind held
wind held
the hawk

well above
the burn

and stubble
of october fields

in slow circles
of un

         broken blue
a single note

turning
and re

           turning
how will you

approach silence?
with open arms

a feather of fear?
is there

any room left
in your crowded life

for stillness?
how do you

measure mystery?
Oct 16 · 41
winds trespass
winds trespass
and stand

still

clouds tower
grey and

spill

bough flower
drink their

fill

sakura crocus
&

daffodil
Oct 15 · 45
the sky the sea
the sky the sea
inside               inside
you                              you
corners                                 circles
of                                             of
the deepest                                              the deepest
blue                                                           green
at night                                                    at night
stars                                                stars
dance                                   bell
from dark                     then blink
strings             unseen
and spark and sink
Oct 15 · 54
(to nien cheng)
(to nien cheng)

to the shudder
and split

of skin
the rip

of breath
the wet

wings
folding un

folding
in a bloodrush

of color
the first pull

onto the air
the first rise

into the notes
only you can hear


                                             touch tongue to

                                                   each cup
                                                 each chalice
                                              each open hand
                                                     of god


what urged you
from your church?

what inspired the wind
to wake you?
Oct 15 · 226
when
when
kramnik
defeated topalov
there were riots
in the streets
of elista
elated crowds
spilled into
the squares
convulsing
to crown
a new king
wild to be
the first in line
to dine
as they do
on caviar
and *****
oh the stories
that were born
of that evening
when order
was eventually restored
and all the pieces
carefully returned
to their proper colors
a slow white moon
sickled through the evening sky
Oct 12 · 75
the way
the way
we lose

our mothers
and fathers

out beyond
the trespass

of light
sparklers dancing

the summer dark
no single language

no simple answer
within intimate twists

the wheel of grief
windquick fists

pummeling the rubble
of what remains

what fades away
and there

just beyond
the weight of it

the moment
that threatens

to touch
and take you
Oct 12 · 39
the hummingbird
the hummingbird
all function

and form
impossibly winged

and ricocheting
from one

cupped sun
to another

i stand
my ground

and imagine
the percussion

of its tiny heart
a muscle

the size
of a grape seed

then there it is
right before my eyes

lingering
for a moment

before nudging off
into this uncomfortable world

there is so much work
yet to be done
Oct 12 · 33
when life
when life
and death

sit
in the same room

the eyes
of the unbaptized

are left open
above the baskets

of fruit
and the piles

of shoes
coffins hang

on walls
a cross made

of two broken branches
marks

a new grave


    bla ck b ird s wa tch fro m we ary wir es


please
let me finish

this thought
this breath
this life
Oct 12 · 42
untethered
untethered
the rain

taps incessantly
upon the surface

of the sea
smoothing the waves

calming the pull
of the tide

this is what
love feels like

the weight
of it

the drumming
of blood

percussive
through the corridors

flooding its way
to and from

the heart
where it hides

in quiet places
Oct 12 · 39
this little wrist
this little wrist
of sand

marks many
a morning's search

wave worn
and shore washed

like shells
stones or broken

bits of coral
tossed about

in tidal bows

once
i woke
    
certain that there was no god

once
i watched

a mountain lion bound the trail before me

once
i walked

with venus and jupiter clear in the pre-dawn sky

once
i was

where does
such wild come from?

why does
the full white of the moon excite us so?

when you died
did you collect all the perfect petals?
Oct 12 · 35
this new morning light
this new morning light
is not some mask
or a bright new coat to slip on
it is not a sign
or signal
of what was once
or will soon be

these waves are not
the fingers
of some dark leviathan
roaring forth
for my body
or soul
they are not
glassy cylinders
shattering into millions
of pieces on the shore

last night’s moon
was neither a pale coin
nor some other currency
of love
or mystery

these things just are
as we are
beautifully present one moment
and gone the next
you either understand that
or you do not
Oct 12 · 32
there is no beauty
there is no beauty
in their flight

a frantic choreography
as if taking to the air

for the very first time
twitching from one tree

to the next
but their color

such a giving green
and that breath of red

patched just beneath
each wing

says much
of their humor

their jocularity

will you have a look at us?
how the hell did we even get here?
and, really, who knew this would such fun?
Oct 12 · 41
many are
many are
the morning ghosts

who see
what we cannot see

who architect
such a broad sweep

of things
the sky

perfectly pieced
with the sea

the waves piling
onto the shore

how the trees
and the rocks

tendril together
to weave their way

up up up
into the sky
Oct 12 · 35
miles out at sea
miles out at sea
far too distant

for the drums
to be heard

ribbons of light
split beneath the ribs

of a thunderhead
within the hour

the storm had tiptoed
off the horizon

and all those
around me

distracted
by more mundane things

were none
the wiser


                                      but
                                   let me
                              ask you this


when was the last time
beauty

stopped you
in your tracks?
laughed
at your silly deeds
and demands?

when was the last time
beauty

took you
in her gentle hands
and shook you
all to pieces?
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