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

after a storm like that the birds remain silent and the sky is scrubbed well beyond blue

dead branches litter the streets

a man deeply worried is out looking for his missing dog

a few minutes later the dog bounds out of the woods and runs to me

together we sit and wait for the man to return

a bough bends with the weight of a squirrel

the hydrangeas are heavily sponged with rain

i run my hands across the top of them and then wash my face with wonder

where once i watched a family of six deer rest beneath the shade of a tree now stands the skeleton of a new house

how the hand of man presses nature away

the headless body of a bird and thousands of cicada corpses all dance into decay

a cool breeze keeps knocking waterdrops down

birdsong begins to stir

before me two chipmunks dash crazily across the road

deer tracks fresh in the new mud their thick scent still hanging strongly

they are close and i have only just missed them

the world wakes and unwings

i breathe

and just to be sure

i breathe again

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

after the rain
a red tailed hawk came

to rest
on a bough

of a tree
in my brother’s backyard

two grackles
took immediate exception

and began
to badger

the far bigger bird
weary

of the attention
or simply indifferent

the hawk eased
onto the air

and swept away
just above

my head
just beyond

my pounding heart

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

after you died
we sat there

just the two of us
in complete silence

your eyes
were still open

so i stood up
reached across

your quiet body
and closed them

i held your hand
until the doctor arrived

then he and i signed
the death certificate

soon after that
two men

from the funeral parlor
took your body

my mother
your daughter

sent an email today
reminding me

that had you lived
you would have been

104

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

there is a moment
when we speed

from beneath the heavy ground
sometimes

we are met
by a sky thick

with curtained clouds
sometimes

all is washed
in the gray

of rain
most days

it is the gentle sun
just waiting

and teeming
and promising

that this is how
your new life

will begin

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

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

a man walks towards me his arms clumsy with books

i hold the door open for him and notice that the books are gideon’s bibles

i overheard a nurse say yes i know he is dead but what was the time of death?

a priest walks briskly by past the elevator choosing to take the stairs instead

in the room across the hall from my mother’s the nurse always has to ask

sir?

do you know where you are?

you are in the hospital

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?

and the stone said

don’t forget
to touch

and the sun said

don’t forget
to breathe

and the rain said

don’t forget
to cry

and the ocean said

don’t forget
to scream

and the falling leaves said

don’t forget
to laugh

and the snow said

don’t forget
to sleep

a pandemonium
of parrots

ridiculously green
against a perfect pale blue december sky

prattled
and shrieked with glee

they darted as they will do
this way and that

well above the ginko trees
still holding high in their yellowgold

remember this

when counting blessings
or giving thanks

sight and sound
heaven sent
or heaven bound

remember this

april unties
and loosens light
it unbuttons bloom
and beauty
and shivers

a crow wings
from wire to wire
catch coughing notes
raw and fragile


we live locked


each morning
i wait the words  

each afternoon
i seek the signs

each evening
i hope the notes  

but i know
that they might

not arrive
that all of this

is unexpected
and incomprehensible

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

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

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

a summer ago

chipmunks scampered all over my brother’s back yard

they hid in the rock walls of the patio eating seeds and grass

once as i sat there in silence one ran right over my feet

but that was a year ago

i had noticed that now there weren’t any more chipmunks in my brother’s back yard and it puzzled me

then i saw its head sticking out of a crack in the concrete atop the basement stairs

magnificently black and perfectly scaled

its tongue pale pink quick

its eyes unblinking

the head leading the thick cord of its body
  
the snake had no interest in me and returned to its little chamber

there is no evil in the heart of a snake

and that is why i have kept its secret

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

autumn aches
of crimson breaks
and gold mistakes
things we must
take up with rakes

autumn leaves angle
in a scrim

of light
untangled crows lift

from wires
and ever slow the sky

to set
and retire

you are enough

for this world
to touch

what trembles
and sigh

you are enough

blue has cooled
the stubbled fields

trees release
their autumn yields

a brilliant coin
the moon tonight

for winter’s purse
and a silence bright

boughs bend
with heavy rests

of snow
the singe

of a wing
tips powdery down

white domed stones
city the river

a fox settles
in a fetch

of aspens
when was

the last time
you stretched

your shadow
untied yourself

and waded out
into the mystery

of things?
when did you

last wake
to watch

the first push
of new snow?

breathe
i           breathe

words separate
the silence

light’s brittle
and intimate ministry

liquid across the wall
looking forward

let us leave
ourselves behind

we      breathe
            breathe

his hands

two pieces of wood
gnarled worn torn
by the wind
and the rain
and the sun

his eyes

two dark marbles
of laughter
of sadness

his voice

deep
soft
ancient

i almost did not understand him

how are you this morning i asked

can’t grumble sir no sir can’t grumble

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

cl    ouds
cl    imb

and pile
with a sin

                gle st  
ride

they are over
the mountains

)lighteningteethmumblethunder(

sometimes
there is release

sometimes
not

but for an open moment

                                                         we we
                                                         are are
                                                     made made
                                                           to to
                                                 notice surrender

to this world’s
only power

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

cold collects
the warmth of breath

and kicks free
the final leaves

winter takes
what winter wants

and we watch
how autumn grieves

consider the chemistry             of time
the delicate machine                 of sunearthwindrain

the secret language                   of when
to harvest the heart                   and when

to wait

meanwhile
we remain

by the gates
straining

to catch notes
from deep

within cathedral walls

despite tender hands memories go dark
and we come to rest beneath unfamiliar moons

each church
green glassed

and steepled
will open its doors

we will all rise
to celebrate

those who have gone
before us

and those who will one day
walk us

to the bright white lights
of so many stars

crisp lisps
lift leaves

brown down
the street

a tree
unsleeves

winter’s win
‘tis autumn’s defeat

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

dead
leaves crowd corners
and doorways
wind kicked
and twisted
as we are
down sidewalks

stone steps
let confetti fly
into gutters
and scatter
upon the canals
dappled
as we are
with decay
moted notes
of yellowbrown

when i am old and     move slowly from window to window
when I am old and     my loves have all been collected
when I am old and     each season stuns me

i will wake
every morning
place my feet
on the floor
and breathe
for the first time

do not be afraid
of what is left behind

do not be afraid
of being left behind

accept the circles
within and without

accept that the seasons
were are and will be

accept that we
were are and will be

the something
the nothing

ever graceful
ever beautiful

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

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

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

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

from a thatch
of bamboo

burst a cardinal blurred
so rushed in red

above the creek
the heron pendulumed

         back and
forth

its shadow
an old code