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78 · Jan 25
Untitled
the darkening sky
a dagger of lightning
cuts the night open
up the mountain road at first light
reds and yellows already peck

and freckle the greens of trees
on the road an eclipse of moths

bodies and wings the color of dried leaves
thousands of them

crazed in their choreography
scattered along the side

shattered into piles
broken beyond belief

we remain
life-bruised

and life-healed
and despite all attempts

at comfort and routine
we still wild

at the night
we still wail

for the new light
the moth flew        to the right
and then                 to the left

back and forth
forth and back

ping ponging
between the headlights of my car

fragile little wings of white deep in a winter’s darkness
adding to the confusion

was an unexpected november snow
the moth did not seem to mind

the heavy flakes that fell
some as big as its own body

within
and without

we are so tiny
in our lives

we are so tiny
in our world
77 · Nov 2024
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
77 · Dec 2024
stood before
stood before
the gathering sea

face to face
how it beckoned me

and when at last
i turned away

the sea was colored
charcoal grey
77 · Dec 2024
i sense
i sense


by a window
watching the streets the bridge below


                                                                                                         someone


horizon-eyed
at the water’s edge


                                                                                                       beside me


in the cooled silence
of your forest


                                                                                               but i am alone
77 · Feb 25
Untitled
these winter trees sigh
midnight hangs the thinnest moon
comfortable dreams
77 · Jun 5
a murder of crows
a ****** of crows
clearly agitated by my presence

furiously called down upon me
from their shaded branches

with so many gathered in one place
i guessed that they had discovered

something that had recently died
a great summer storm had swept through

the night before and perhaps an animal did not survive
the wilds of wind and rain

i stood there a moment
trying to locate their prey

but could not
so i quickly moved on

leaving the birds to their work
we are all old souled

and kneel humbly before
the ever-balance between life and death

is there any more to understand?
is there any more to ask for?
77 · Dec 2024
mother
mother
with infant armed

walked the seaweed
and stones

further out the strand
her dogs galloped black

against the gulls
dull the blue skulls

of mussels
dropped shattered

on the path
and grass

along the cliffs
the sudden sun

breaking the grey
so silver

on the surface
of the sea

gathered before such things

we become light
we become breath
we become the wild gods within
76 · Mar 5
the rains
the rains
have returned

as have the parrots
that now riot down

these evening streets
this morning

a hummingbird
ash grey

and the size
of child’s thumb

floated
between the flowerless branches

of a tree
              slowly

things have found
their way back

into focus
into some semblance

of routine
and order

but small cracks
remain

open invitations
for grief

to come
galloping back

                          did you really think you would be rid of me so easily?
                                                          that this would last only a moment?
        who do you think it has been filling your dreams with shadows?
76 · Apr 13
my mother
my mother
has moved

from october
to november

to the same rooms
the same furniture

and the same framed photos
to the same plates

and glasses
the same clipped light

and the same taunting shadows

my mother
has moved

from october to november
where now

she sits waiting
to move closer

to december
a crow throws out notes
trying to find the lyrics
in the falling leaves

the sun is now tipping
to that side of the sky
and winter pulls it stitches tighter

we break
all the beautiful things
always leaving
more questions
than answers
76 · Oct 2024
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
75 · Jun 9
impossibly balanced
impossibly balanced
and beautiful

a siege
of white herons

came to rest
atop the boughs

of summer trees
every now

and again
one would depart

or arrive
the whole of its body

folding un
folding

taking to the blue
or landing brightly

on the green sway
of each giving branch

is that it?
the obvious secret?

the easy give
and take

of simply walking away
upon the wind?
75 · Mar 28
we walk
we walk
blossom blessed

drift petals down
pollan dusted

color coded inks
in whites and pinks

let purple and yellow yawn
the day’s lush lining of dawn

a woodpecker with its percussive no-no-no-notes
the fanfare of the ferns unfurling

when things threaten
to spin at such terrific speeds

build bright and breathe
new windows will open and say

to that which inevitably speeds away
for a single moment more

stay
75 · Apr 26
it rained today
it rained today
and what remained

of the leaves steeped
in the cold november shower

seeped
and stained

the dark
of the wet sidewalks

such
is the clutch

and release
of power

the transfer
of light

within the sky
such

is how we hurt
and heal
75 · Aug 8
today i lived
today i lived
a million lives


what may appear


today i died
a million deaths


to be an arrow


the in and out
of a million breaths


is merely a flower
75 · Oct 2024
i will give you
i will give you
permission

to cut me
with your knife

to give me eyes
that will not see

a mouth
that will be silent

i will give you
permission

to take your hands
and scrape away

my seeds
turning my insides

out
i will give you

permission
to cut me

with your knife
againandagainandagain

if you promise
to leave

your light
inside me
74 · Jun 22
it is not
it is not
some great boulder
sysipheanly shouldered up the mountainside
of some mystery

it is not
some annoying stone
in the soul
of your shoe

it is not
a grit of sand
bothersome
to the eye

it is
a single thread
silkstrong
and forever tethered
to the allmemory

it is
its own timekeeper
that freely freights across great boundaries

it is
sourceless
without grudge or grandeur

and the mouths         of flowers sing
and the bodies           of the oceans dance
and the light              of the sun
and the light              of the moon
                                     promise
and promise
74 · Nov 2024
the moon slurs
the moon slurs
her words

plume like smoke
and feather fade

trace stitches
of stars unravel

black carvings
of birds

crease the netting
of trees

sunday morning children light
across the churchyard lawn

their grass stained laughter
lifts like leaves
73 · Oct 2024
in the little
in the little
of the morning

red flag raised
and sounding

the air
cool moving

through
the trees

unsettles
loose leaves

the horizon
slides closer

stitched black
with lightening

bruised blue
with pummels

of thunder
first drops

blink dark
the dry ground

haloing
in the sand

before the world
shrieks

and sighs
73 · Jun 2
so suddenly thundered
so suddenly thundered
ripped from sleep

tipped tossed tumbled
out into the under

of such endless grief
and rubble

now
we pace and pray

now
we scratch and claw at wires and crumbs

now
we shriek with absolute loss

yet all the while
wishing and waiting and wanting

to rise
to rise
to rise
73 · Nov 2024
listen
listen           to the pebbles
                     and bells
                     of rain
                     against the window
watch          them pelt
                     into puddles melt
                     into the mouths
                     of flowers
listen           to what
                     is whispered
                     in between the falling
listen           to the earth sigh
72 · Mar 18
untethered
untethered
the rain

tapped 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 the blood

percussive
through the corridors

flooding its way
to and from

the heart
where it hides

in quiet places
72 · Oct 2024
minimalism
minimalism.
mnmlsm.
mmm.
mm.
m.
.
72 · Dec 2024
after you
after you
the birds kept
to their mysterious notes
people moved
along the canals
one moment
the sky spat rain
the very next
it was unbearably blue
fields of impossible flowers
scented the air
the tides
true to their schedules
swept in and out
the moon hung
from its thin black thread
i wander our rooms
still calling your name
late to the day’s last light
seeding well beyond

these speeding windows
colors scrape unrestrained

a display
matching exactly

the leaves that still linger
with a tight fist

december clings
to such untouched things

all that is grey
will eventually give way

and deliver snow
but this we already know

when to hold on
and when to let go
71 · Oct 2024
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
it has been one revolution
around the sun
since you became the sun

it has been four sweeps
of the seasons
since you became the seasons

it has been twelve months
of moons
since you became the moon

it has been without measure
since you became
70 · Nov 2024
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
69 · Dec 2024
when october
when october
unstitched

her skins
scattering the remains

we touched
the yellow cloth

marveling
at the heat

of it all

later stepping
across the blue stones

of the sky
we breathed

in birdsong
and wood smoke

                                                                                     and remembering
69 · Mar 14
match strikes spark
match strikes spark

                                                                                                               a body

skin catch kindling

                                                                                                           in flames

all smolder smoke

                                                                                                           feels like

and blister burn

                                                                                                               a body

that crackles charred

                                                                                                           in flames

black and black
69 · Aug 1
the tap
the tap
and snap of it

shattering the many sides
of the sky

light so tightly twined
and tinted
  
bends along the edge
of autumn fields

early wreaths
of redyellow

on long strings untied
no hint in the wind

no clues hidden
in the clouds

slowly turned
we cross the day unmade

with one last breath
before we wake
68 · 7d
autumn creases
autumn creases
with leaf releases
it never ceases
until it runs out of pieces
67 · Feb 2
Untitled
i followed the tracks
into the new forest snow
the unknown so close
66 · Mar 6
i do not believe
i do not believe
in ghosts

but i am cordial to them nonetheless

i do not believe
in god

but from time to time i wonder how she is doing

i do not believe
in heaven

but i am curious as to what might be on the other side of this door

i do not believe
in hell

but just in case i mind my manners

i do not believe
in the beatles

well actually i do and they are definitely better than the rolling stones
66 · Apr 3
push
push
into the pelagic refractions

of cerulean
and celadon

stand
on an unknown shore

that washes the elemental
into the celestial

inner    space

             space

outer    space
66 · Feb 11
Untitled
winter scrolling out
heavy snow a new canvas
ploughs push big brushes
65 · Jan 8
we quick kicked thick
we quick kicked thick
eddies of leaves

from skeleton trees
crows crack and scatter

frost kissed jack o lanterns
collapse

a swan wide winged
and wild

sunday church bells tell
the geese to arrow south

last night in bright papery bits
stars tossed and tangled

a moon collected upon the canal
i have no wants in this world

only this
65 · Jun 7
it has been a year
it has been a year
since i last walked the trail

so much of it now is overgrown
with summer vines briars wild grass and the lack of foot traffic

i was familiar enough with the way
and could follow along with the low river

i recognized the elbow of it
where the shadow of the heron flew

i remembered where the deer tended to settle in the blue shade
where the rabbits scurried into the brambles

much has changed in a year
or so the keepers of such measurements might say

it is only the stones who laugh at such peculiarities
it is only the blue of the sky who shakes her head and thinks

why are you still so in love
with the sound of your own voice?
65 · Feb 2
Untitled
what does the world do
whenever we’re not looking?
the blue sky smiles
65 · Mar 2
in the early hours
in the early hours
when you

set
upon a quiet house

now the morning
cracked

and screaming
now the weight

of so many words
now the smudge

the sun makes
and when at last

we catch cathedral
let us release you

to a bolt
of blue sky
november has been stubborn
with its lingering warmth

its slow turn to redyelloworange
and so i have arrived late

to an appreciation of the ginko leaf
autumn demands

and clamors for color
fancily dances its displays

of spark
and flame

but only now do i humbly behold
its green to gold

it’s perfect fans feathered
slipping free

and sliding silently
before finally settling

upon the ground


should you seek           inspiration
should you need          evidence of prayer

asked
and answered

here it is
64 · Nov 2024
i remember me
i remember me



                                                                stars cold
                                           in their constellations

                                                                dull colors
                                           windkicked into corners

                                                                one shadow walking
                                          with each hand empty




                                                                                                without you
64 · Nov 2024
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
weeds heed no measure of time
save perhaps the ticking of rain

or the slow circle of seasons
in their own meter

they climb their way
through the creases and the concrete

splaying themselves before the sun
the dragonfly red bodied and resting

so patient upon the warmth of the garden stone
it has no word for pastpresentfuture

there is only now
and now

is always enough
be wary of power

of those who        collect and wield it
of those who        conscript and twist it

be wary of all that prattle and blather
it has absolutely nothing to do with power

or weeds
or dragonflies
63 · Oct 2024
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?
63 · Dec 2024
the rain
the rain
with its Round words

said nothing
quiEt were the grey sheets

of the sky
the new green

of trees
the many bells

of this town
kept sIlent

even the wind
wholly wild

held its toNgue
but still we knew

(deathhyouareadarkandfunnydoor)

steep the stone
the gentle folding

of blood
and bone

remain here
and help her home

                                                                                     she will have her way
62 · Jan 5
the man
the man
silver-haired

and tan
was wearing

a crisp blue
oxford shirt

a kelly green
silk tie

pressed khaki pants
and perfect

leather loafers
he tilted

his head back
and calmly lowered

the headless body
of the raw fish

into his mouth
fresh herring

bellowed the fishmonger
with obvious glee
62 · Mar 24
we stirred
we stirred
and startled the bird

standing there in the reeds
and the still of the eddy

legs
a stealth of sticks

head
a gaveled spike

and in that briefest moment
the heron

str   etc   hed   imp   oss   ibl   e wi   ngs

feathered gravel grey and unfolding
it grabbed hold of a rope of air

its long neck collapsing perfectly into its body
a fluency of grace and speed that soon saw it well above the water

and shadowing down the sand bars and creek beds

there can be no life without          fear
there can be no life without          love

don’t forget
to unsettle

the night sky
with your stars
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