"manzanita" poems
Every morning
I feed the mewling cats,
chug my hot instant coffee,
sit at my rickety linoleum kitchen table
and peer hopefully out my thin window,
through the cracks in the glass
beyond the rusted screen
into the acres of wet trainyards and commercial blocks.
There in one non-descript grey building
underneath the watertower
beside the Sheriff's substation
a band of laughing saints
craft delicate malas of lapis
and manzanita windchimes
while diaphonous angels all a-hover
manifest vast verdant grassland prairies,
great ocean waves, sunsets
and spring flowers hidden in rock crannies
where nobody will ever walk,
and they launch grand air balloons
bulging with epiphanies
that may drift my way.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
fingernails black like pupils and
eyelids sticky like manzanita flowers and
tongue heavy like a down pillow and
cheeks rosy like cherry pie and
brain fuzzy like a dying fire
my mouth is golden and sour
and sweet and chocolate
my lungs are full and empty
and laughinglaughinglaughing
a trampoline full of dead leaves and
I jump and jump and fall
and almost throw up but
I don't
I'm wild and I could run away
and scream and laughlaughlaugh
I'm tired and I could lie down
and kiss and sleepsleepsleep
I like it
I like it a lot
where are my problems?
gonegonegone
I'm happy giddy living
and Harry Potter's on the TV
it's easier to love myself
like this and
you can be **** sure
I'm making a good milkshake
again
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
i keep winter out
of my heart, remembering
your cherry bud kiss.
spring is coming soon--
manzanita buds aglow,
like little pink hearts.
climbing Mt. Fuji,
i saw only my two feet.
coming down-- the world!
the old Buddhist monk:
gentle as a flower, yet
stronger than thunder.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
Although I hardly gave it a thought
I didn't really doubt
our miniature juniper, a bonsai,
would survive our desert vacation.
It likes the dry
air of our home, needs water
once a week at most and seems
meditative and active, both. While away
I rediscovered my love of agaves -
sotol and century
plant - met Mortonia and became
reacquainted with squawbush, its citrus
drupe which makes traveling the long horizon
of the desert uplands endurable.
Live oaks - emory,
wavyleaf - dominant and regally spaced
giving ground to mesquite only on the sere
sand flats. I counted and drew inflorescenses,
spikelets, florets, awns but grasses
remain a mystery
their microscopic parts. This year
I'll study, give them serious thought before
our Spring starts. The cactus wren was the one
bird I could be certain about. Sunsets
made me sorry
the desert is not my home. But the ocotilloes
flowered before we left and that made up
for the vicious attack of a hedgehog cactus.
Impressive, ponderosa pine and Arizona cypress
the canyon canopy
watered with snowmelt and along the high cliffs
limestone formations predating our arrival by
ten million years of weather. Newspapers
kept us aware humanity had not accomplished yet
the end of history
and that was fair. The planes were full of citizens
who no longer applaud upon landing. Snow flew,
not a pinyon pine or manzanita within two moons
walking. On the dining room sideboard, waiting,
our miniature juniper.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
Goodnight sweet juniper,
Let the moon kiss you slowly across the sky.
Return to your dreams and find my soul from lifetimes long past.
You can find me standing beneath the pinyon in the sand,
I’ll wait for you there.
Where nothing and no one else exist,
And time expands with every breath.
Tread softly as you walk among the manzanita,
Its red bark echoing of blood and life.
Its roots stretching deeper than you know,
And its leaves brushing you softly,
Whispering your secrets, ushering your fate.
Take your solace in the sagebrush,
Its sharp scent hitchhiking on the northern breeze,
as the dirt green stubble extends farther than the hills,
and farther than the red cliffs and thirsty desert.
Smile as you sleep, and let the moon kiss you slowly across the sky.
Goodnight sweet juniper.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Manzanita bush
Dry, rust red and bleached limbs twist
Above, eagles soar
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
- at the riddle...
Ezekial 17- the chapparal around me
I feel laughing,
We have had a wet October, the elven forest
and all its winter resting creatures,
feels laughing happy today,
as I mind fly over the old trail,
marked clearly, once you see the sign,
The Trail Less Travelled By -
you can see it, from Google Earth eyes,
if you know where to look,
but you can't feel this from there.
My forest, in these environs, is
called elven, due to lowly stature,
- no majestic trees here
my forest is wild, no trails not leading
to water, eventually, if you head downhill;
My forest,
if you will, allows us to see it extends
to Arizona, across the watered desert,
strange
there is no horizo, no line marking mine.
But desert coyotes come here to harvest
sweet-sour fruit
of little, red manzanita
loaded with wee tiny apples,
which coyotes eat, but barely chew.
- maybe we could package these//
It may be like that delicacy coffee,
roasted after being goat shat.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
Young Manzanita
Struggling to stand beneath
An aged redwood
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
My tiny manzanita tree…
Cultivating leaves from soft green to pale russet.
Slowly dying or is the season changing?
There are locks where my eyes used to be,
Eyes so deeply set like roots in soil.
I study the branches twisting, snaking; each turn with a purpose, a ploy.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
(Prelude)
They told me that before I walked, I climbed like ivy
on the backs of those old enough to know what it
felt like to support something.
I hope you’re tall enough to climb
because staying close to the ground
won’t get either of us anything but
fleshy fingers and pale legs that haven’t
felt the embrace of branches.
The Manzanita grove sits squat and clustered,
heavy grandparents, gossiping about which child had
the best education.
Strips of light- spilling through oval and jade leaves
spread out like dough between four branches.
“Well, my girl has got the legs to be a dancer”
“Mine has roots that lead right back to the Queen of England”
They fall asleep midday, the chatter having
made their red bark peel.
Try to tip toe between the trunks or they will
wake and keep you around to fatten you up
with a combination of *** roast and home grown herbs
slightly wilted from too much time in the sun.
greedy fool who should bite his tongue and try
climbing an oak for a change in perspective.
Stradling the trunk with slender legs
bark scraping the unscathed skin.
Pulling upward for filtered light always
partial always
half the story.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Four aged redwoods
Contrast in age standing near
Young manzanita
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
Lying on my back
Amidst the manzanita
Gazing at the sky
Crickets and cicadas chant
Shrill and sonorous
As I leave myself and fly
A single raven
Soaring the wild blue yonder
All my torments left behind
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
orange morning light
and snow-flake ash
the taste of burnt manzanita
fire to the north,
fire to the south
a valley enclosed
in uncertainty
apocalyptic sun
blotted out by
smoke,
a color just as beautiful
as it is eery
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
Late August underneath the radiating and boiling sun
We sat cross legged underneath the manzanita tree
One of its little withered leaves flew down and landed behind your ear
Perfectly
I brushed it off with my hand and placed it on the ground
Little did I know that was what would make you want to leave me forever
I didn't know how much you loved leaves or how much you hated me touching your ears
This was the worst mistake of my life
If I could travel back in time
I wouldn't stop diseases or wars or do anything
I would just
Selfishly
Make you come back to me
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Outstretched eternally
Crimson and gnarled
Teeming with parasites
Full of life
Beckoning
Arms like manzanita
Throat worn to driftwood
As hymns float through
Hollow and plain to see
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 8:20 PM UTC