Vibration~
What is this  
OM  
?
And how has it come to me
to be so familiar ?
Are internal vistas more remembered
than discovered?

I feel I am:
softer than skin,
subtler still than flesh,
than bone,
a  resonance expanded ultimately
into the great gaps
of lightless expanse,
drifting.
Brought back so thick,
so sharp
to this body
by the pain of my blood
passed ancestral along
the lines of systems
gross and apparent.

Yet still
the thin mists about my heart
are whispering phosphorescent secrets
through the breathing of my most dark

wave-front
cloud-break
blue-grey-movement

~~~

below the wind
watching
Redwoods quiver

~~~

the hallowed wine glass
but ah!
the sweet on my lips

~~~

Fennel every Fall
through the chain link fence

~~~

the warmth of my lover
passed hand to hand
polished blue stone

~~~

dust
breaks the silence
sneezing

~~~

a Rose opens
aging
gracefully

~~~

proud Maple
among not yet
yellow Oaks

~~~

peninsulas
embrace the bay
wave-break kisses

~~~

white Aspens
out of sight
white Egret

~~~

Cypress light
spiked and pining

~~~

paying respects
around the lumber mill
procession of Trees

~~~

October road trip
picking haiku
from the breeze

~~~

cloud layers
puzzle piece
the sky

snapshots!                                                  
                                        the poet & the photographer                                  
                                                                ­                      marvel                                

~~~

felled trees                
                                nesting Ferns            
                                               restful            

~~~

Temperate jungle
embrace all traces
of change

~~~

peeing in the rain                    
understanding the clouds

~~~

Leaf-fall carpet                          
conifer curtains                        
The living room

~~~

parallel the River                  
the road
much slower

~~~

bare-feet over needles                      
Redwood witnesses                          

~~~

                       under this
                                                            ­           a blank page

~~~

October sky                                          
the heat setting with the sun
                                               colors following

~~~

brush stroke clouds                                
                    the Moon shines through
the ink

Take a soft tipped brush
Dip, and trace my nakedness;
Viscous dripping rainbow streams
Clothe me here within our dreams.
Swirl my curves
With satin pink,
Let your brush flutter and sink
lower, purples, red and blue,
I'm a canvas here for you.
Paint me scarlet, paint me gold,
Paint some words
italic, bold
Stop when you begin to weep
A masterpiece, for us to keep.

The clouds dispersed beyond the tide
Leaving behind a dewy haze
Of colourful ribbons
Curtains from heaven

Crisp green grass crunching beneath my feet
The infinite expanse of blue
Above my head
Above us all

I wanted to race across the grassy hills
And grasp the teardrops of colour
Before they faded into the mist
Leaving behind a lifeless world
Drained from mystery and magic

But leprechauns don’t exist
I’ve never found a *** of gold
For there are no such things
As legends, and myths

And it was a disappointment to discover
That we live in a world
Like every other

A world
Of black and white
~

it's been months
since these cells have been sober

pressured into pretending
that substances bring pleasure

but if these erased evenings
have instilled anything in me

it's that distilled liquid
will make forgetting the only memory