ribbons of rain
curtain across the pond

in a chorus of stones
touch tapping the surface

unspooling in ribs of circles
within the trees

time collects in rings
roots seek the deepest mysteries

at the water’s edge
a heron

that ever seeing eye
stands searching for the shadows of fish

in a flash
its beak trades life for life


empty yourself         of this world
empty yourself         into this world


you will be                warmed & welcomed
you will be                feathered lightly along

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

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

the trees
the powerlines

and the crows
are all silhouetted

stone heavy
and tethered gray

we pull ourselves along
seeking the sun

or the stars
do you ever miss

your wild life?
washed in light

and rinsed in wind?
don’t you wish

to hear your name
whispered once more

in the crashing waves?

the way we lose
our fathers

and mothers
out beyond the trespass

of light
where sparklers dance

the summer dark
no single language

no simple answer
the wheel

of grief
with its windquick

and intimate fists
pummels 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

all morning
the cold mists

jeweled tiny pools
upon the stubborn grass

of december
silvering

a single blade
a single strand

of a spider’s web
simply sparking the grey

of the day
away


life can be like that sometimes


obstinately one side
of the coin

one minute
then joyously the other

one secret second
later

teeter
          as we do

                         upon tightropes
                         wishing for wings
                         or puppet strings

carom
           as we do

                         down lightless streets
                         impatient with prayer
                         to get us there

as a boy
i would

run the wind
swim the ocean

until the strand
was a pitching distant dream

i would
climb branch

after branch
until the curve

of the world
was my own

as a boy
i would think

nothing
of doing

these things
as a man

i can think
of nothing

else

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

a hum in the head of the moon

a word in the wash of the stars

heard well above the din
brightly poured forth

red roaring light
in one last lunge

and done

a part           of yourself
apart            from yourself

dusted away
once upon a shelf

when death comes
it will not be the patient ground
that opens up to hold us

it will not be the restless sea
that reaches out to collect us

it will be the wind
that finally takes our names
spins and shakes them apart
tossing them into infinite sparks

are you accepting of this?
are you prepared for this?

the seasons wheel away
and so must we

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

on    we    we    wa         laughlapping
ce              re      ter         in the tided stands

on    we    we     fi           gathered
ce              re       re          at the feet of our fathers

on    we    we     li           cast clear
ce              re       ght       in a winter’s night

on    we    we     ai          perfectly winged
ce              re       r           from rope and swing

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

in the mango tree
across the street

a prattle of parrots
most evenings meet

to chew the fat
and the mango sweet

with a secret cue
they screech away

then circle back
as if to say

this was the best
part of your day

we woke
to winter weight

and silence
snow upon

bridgeandroofandroad
now the sky

a catch
of blue

pigeons punch
the sun

seagulls satellite
in circles

this carousel spins at perfect speeds

light is never
uninvited

love even
less so

it does not have to be

a blind recital
of words

or memorized notes
of music

it does not have to be

water stepping
over stones

wind weaving
through the trees

or snow collecting silence
in the fields

it does not have to be

any of these things
just as long as it comes

from that part of you
that understands

your tiny place
in the beautiful infinite

sparks arc
the air

and sigh
into darkness

what was
once

is now
gone


      ]and so grinds grief[     ]the very pit of it[      ]the incessance[


and there will come a day

to shake down stars
and rediscover

and there will come a day

to push sorrow aside
and wake wanting

but not today
and certainly

not now

these last leaves
fall like coins

from a hole
in god’s pocket

this morning
the sun stood

through the mists
of the city

life vibrates
with colors

with roots
that touch

and tap


we skim the surface we quickly move on we miss the point


what is so unrecognizable
about happiness?

what is so impossible
about love?

i will tell my father
i weathered your absence

i will tell my mother
you left too early

i will tell my brother
now we are orphans

i will tell my friends
you are my family

i will tell you
grief is a dark cloud that dangles before the ever-patient sun

in the evening


we breathed blue
a spectacle
of heaven reckless
the violence
of light
sticks
and stones
from the deepest room

                                 we wake to the wonder that wears us

from the ancient strand
keys
and locks
the pendulum
of planets
of time stretching
a sorrow
we seethed green


in the morning

cold collects
the warmth of breath

and kicks free
the final leaves

winter takes
what winter wants

and we watch
how autumn grieves

do you know the language?
can you read the words

of the waves bending into the rocks?
do you see the sentences

setting the clouds aflame?
how are you arranged

to receive such things?
are you too heavily armored?

are you a broken stringed kite
too wild with the wind?

whatever burden or lightness claims you
the color of wonder surrounds

do not be afraid to reach out
and touch it

i fly
through the clouds
of my mother’s lungs

untouched
by the sun
or the moon

i walk
through the forest
of my mother’s lungs

lost
in its great shadows

i swim
through the caves
of my mother’s lungs

the rising tides
drowning out
all pockets
of air

eventually the stars
all darken and die

there at the edge
of sea and sky

life is a voice
and silence death

divisible between
beat and breath

dark
the morning down

where saturn jupiter
and venus

nibble
at a waning moon

where birds unseen
spit tinny notes

where light climbs
to the tip

of the rim
tripping up

into great spills
and seeping free

leaf to leaf
tree to tree

the azaleas
have yielded

to the peonies
heavy

with rain
they have

in turn
bowed

to the hydrangeas
who have next

nodded
to the magnolias

such a patient parade
such a sharing

of sight
and scent

she said
i am ready

for the end
of my life

i am prepared

we dance dust about the details of each day

we clasp hands and sing our tiny songs

we are quick to remember but even quicker to forget

one day the earth will quietly ask to take me back

to offer quiet closure

perhaps with the promise of a star spark or a cloud igniting in a sunset

perhaps i will receive nothing at all

when this body rinses from these bones i shall be far away

or I shall be right beside you

mystery is as simple as that

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

when we gather
around the wreath of flames

what will you do
with your tiny piece of god?

your chip of rib
your unplucked petals

your tuck of rain
your bend of wing?

will you seek the elemental?
will you pursue the intangibles?

do not be afraid
to stray from the center

do not be afraid
to dawdle

and dance
on the periphery

inbe      t      ween
here      t       here

con(dis)
(so)so
nance(nance)

what we love
what we do not

under stand
stand under

tangled in so many strings crow black in color comfort chaos

are always are always
options
d i  s   s    o      l       v        i          n           g

in
new
light

i pedal predawn streets
yellow globes
of lampglow

along the canals
dark the windows
and doors

so           me
ti            me
s                  birdsong and brightness

so           me
ti            me
s                  the pendulum of stars and moon

so           me
ti            me
s                  such a hiss and spit of rain

so           me
ti            me
s                  thewindandthewindandthewindandthewind

every corner
gathers its ghosts

reminding us
the living

to live