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

there
there it is

that clip of wind
a smoother edge to the air

the braided fade the sky now holds
the ginko nuts are beginning to fall

their yellow leaves will soon follow
there is a silence to the stones

a quiet to the clouds
the birds sense it

and theirs is now a new arrangement of music
colors slowly carousel into corners

the clock has turned
and returned everything

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong
  
waiting there
as my mother slowly slipped away
a nurse taught me how to find the pulse

in her final moments
when she stopped breathing
her heart ceased beating
and her pulse faded away
i felt it in my fingertips

so now

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong  
and i know exactly where to find it

there are days that are not easy

moments tethered to exhaustion and preoccupation

music muted within thick walls of gray

there are starless nights

stones that cannot seem to be moved


then new light arrives


the air cools to an easy breath

the delicate electricity that shakes the heart becomes weightless with wonder

the heaviness of what just was flashes and falls away

like the underwing of a red hawk passing beneath the soul of the sun

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

when chaos commands
we unbalance scream and seethe
what remains of truth
is bruised and muted
what survives of beauty
is shattered and bleeding


who are we?


sometimes
the greatest courage requires
stillness

sometimes
the greatest strength requires
staring
into the raging face of fear

unblinking

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

all the heat pressed down
until evening brought cooler skies

it all caught clapped
and collided

wind whipped the heavens emptied

both human and animal
humbled by such sacred science
took shelter and waited  

a turtle slides quietly from a log ribboning the water with mud

a rabbit runs across my path
and we both measure equal amounts of surprise

cardinals scoop
and line through the air making both red
and green seem impossibly so

the geese call out across the now prefect calm of the potomac

the world turns over
and we so wildly with it

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

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

with a pale parade
of its confetti

of dead leaves
winter has arrived

i am accepting
of all seasons

each
with its bounties

and boundaries
its rewards

and regrets
in his sermon

a priest once said
that life

in the absence
of pain

would be hell

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

after days
of rain

the sky
now blue
and bladed

drapes
and unbraids

with pop
and blossom

green shakes free
unfolds in a new geometry

this is the unchanging continuum
the fragile piece of string

infinite at both ends
and here we are

our brief blink
of it
in it
on it

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

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

let
the geese
go short shadow south

let
the leaves
release into wreckage

let
the light
gloam red orange

let
a pulse
flutter silent

last night the wind had its way  
with this world

it waved and clapped its hands
and skeletons of umbrellas
  
were broken and inoperable
they fell to the wet earth

and were whisked away
it snapped its fingers
  
and bicycles and plant pots
lost their balance

and were unable
to right themselves

take the time
to tamper

with what is wild
be sure

to take your turn
to touch

what is waiting

the soul
belongs
to the whole

the day has flared
and fallen

into fire
clouds climb

in silence
the trees whisper

something green
in their mystery

in places
wait the oranges

and reds of autumn
in places

wait the whites
and blues of winter

sometimes we must
look upon the things

we have no name for

grains
of sun

untied laces
of snow

urgent shadows
of birds

perfect shards
of stars

they are parceled out
in increments

of wonder
divvied up

in morsels
of joy

the voices in the leaves said
let us rest

we are weary
our bones are brittle

our skin fragile
let us gather here

for just a moment
to catch our breath

before the wind wakes
and casts us along

scratching
patternless

and disintegrating

at night
they lock

the doors
shut off

the sun
turn off

the waterfalls
but there

just beyond
the cooling blue

of the glass
cement

and steel
the stars

breathe
so patiently

unabraded
address the day

let light shake
and shadow stir

unknot it all
and watch everything

in the world
give into flame

dance relieved
and weightless

and breathe
and breathe
and breathe

the moon blues the snow

stones stumps and posts stand steeped in night fields

shadows form words to a silence that breathes deeply within

in the hearth the maple waits for flames to braid

each log will catch and ornament the air with twists of smoke and fire

all this until nothing is left

we destroy
but know nothing of real power

we repair
but know nothing of real love

the moon is a cloud




some                                     some
are rising                              are complex
and familiar                        concrete grey
white tipping                      with a heat and heaviness
off the top                            a dizzying effect
darkening briefly               that spits light and sound
to pour specificity              in an ever shifting distance





in the pale blue sky

isn't it enough that the wind
makes tumbles of the umbrellas

that dark staccato notes of rain
strike with such force that we pause
  
our busy little lives and marvel at it?
isn't it enough that the very next moment

the sky turns so impossibly blue
that we remember we all have wings?

september now silenced
the cicadas

and a well
of wind coned

across the ocean
spitting earth

with elemental pace

meanwhile        october has stepped upon the stage
meanwhile        the flowers lean into last light
meanwhile        the sunsets whisper

what of this rain
                             cold
upon the leaf last free

what of this leaf
                             gold
upon a goldless tree

for once
to let them

both be
me

i have grown used to the moon
early each morning
waiting there above me

ever growing ever receding
for weeks now
the skies have been perfectly blue

first light prismed in slight violet
lingering just before the breach
of the horizon line

at night the stars
and planets
pierce with warm purpose

a world away
the wolves sing
in the dark woods

a world away
the whales sing
in the deep waters

a world away
we sing
to the ancient music of fire

birds not
                bats

are each
being eaten

like bubbles
                                                                               by alligators

it is a conversation
between


rain and roof
stream and stones
snow and silence
wind and wing
the unfurling yellow flower and the slightest crack in the pavement


it is a conversation
between


mystery and wonder
and it must always be so

twice now
i have been close enough

to smell
their sharp scent

before actually seeing them
the deer

silent still
and pulling new leaves

from the lowest branches
for minutes

they tolerated my presence
before calmly

moving down the trail
across the creek

and up the steep bank
on the other side

in time         we will trust the sun and the air
in time         we will howl our new anthem at the moon

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

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

for three days now it has snowed

the boughs bend heavy with the weight of it

every now and again the wind will reach out and tap tease free a cascade that dusts the evergreens

the empty arms of maple and oak are in impossible white

danger is only one letter away from anger

tonight the rind
of the moon

still shines
and the stars

are also playing
their parts

so do not stand there
and wring your hands

or pound your chest
or howl

at the night

feel
what surrounds you

find
your significant place

in the depth
of things

beauty is built
with the details

that rest all
around you