brown pine needle mat
cool breeze drifts from the koi pond
the rustle of fall.
(August 24, 2024)
drink of the heat today
and swim through the
thick air of June
a gift from the sun
the willow weeps
as the wind changes
and gleams in the
noon brightness
for breath is natural
a floating dragonfly
who gazes into your
cool blue eyes
looking for life
"who do you seek
son of the earth?
from where will your
breast find warmth?"
green-covered mountains
with mist and cloud
breathe in the distance
and wildly echo into the night
"thirst for the summer
son of the earth,
to dance yourself
into blessed sleep."
(June 21, 2021)
he saw an
old magnolia
weeping brown leaves
glossy and crisp
strewn on the way
breached with a step
the foot fell through
with the thunder-roll
after a warm
summer rain
melted
the lush form
eased into the
ground of creation
the earth
at last
relief in the
arms of the sun
sweat mingled with
morning wind
gently caressing the
lake surface
going to the hills
(June 15, 2021)
in this eternal day
a heart can stand still for hours
weeping to itself
cotton clogging the eyes
rattling breaths scratch
at the inside of the ribs
to escape and let the world
see the ugliness of freedom
a huddled bundle
at the foot the building
that had just prayed
for god to come
the birds
scream at another day
wailing that it is
too much to see
that he
for whom the forest
stretched especially high
and the hills gave comfort
who was loved
could not rest
and find his place
among the trees
to go home
(June 6, 2021)
even the moon calls in the wild
her strong voice beams
and maternal cries
resound against the firmament
and get trapped down here
right by the earth
you can tell because the water glows
like silver mercury and polished steel
radiant at the joy of your being
will you just look at it
you could be up there
dancing with her in the clouds
or cooling your toes in her light
a balm for the weary
oh little one, see the grass,
goosebumps of anticipation
ripple the ground, it does not
concern itself with the future
because it is already night
can't you believe that the
shackles scarring your wrists
are made of your own flesh
will you not listen to the sweet lullaby
whispered into your ear
lullay...lullay
(March 29, 2021)
a new season is
blowing into town
on the heels
of pitter-patter rain
black walnuts
thunder against
the roof as
trees learn to breathe
clearly again
stretching their
fractal branches to
meet the sea of
sky
a couple of birds
strangers
rest their feet
on the sticks
quietly watching
the cloud ships
float by in
parade
sails at full mast
billowing in the sun
one leaves
then the other
the tree lingers
rapt by the show
(March 26, 2021)
splashes of suns and moons
stars and creation
splayed out across
through the heads and
bodies and leaves
of the spruces
in lush array
streaking down
whipping all the way
to the temperate canopy
a triad realized
all at once
that they couldn't
take it any longer
they shielded their faces
from the luminous spray
and turned up their leaves
against the wind
coming off the hill
so that they could be
free to weep
with the pond
at the violation
of the earth
at night like this
the sky and the water
cannot be discerned
and the sunburn that comes
and reflects off the mirror
strikes upon the chins
of the trees
and leaves a silver rash
on the upsides of the
boughs
standing there
one of them
dares to look up
to heaven
with birch-bark tongue
throbbing for respite
and big dipper
pours herself out
upon the tree
quenching its throat
for why should she
deny her children
(March 8, 2021)
how high are the stars
the loved ones
that peer out into
night just like me
they hope and know
and search through
the tangible blackness
for truth
me you sent into
howling wilderness
to find out where
the stars have gone
this holler
a forest of hunched figures
surely the trickle stream
moves on into the river
black cloud has arrived
and from its velvet pinions
the leaves drink the
sheet rain
lightning whip
crisp fundamental clear
tames beasts
who have built grand cities
from star to star
light to earth
the rain will die
like this wretched woods
and we can once again
look out to the distance
and exchange glances
with the night
rolling thunder behind us
(February 28, 2021)
a thrush flails around
in long grass and snow
to find something tender
to swallow
beaking up so much
dirt and muck
stretching elders above
unfurl and elongate
arranging their spines
and their needles
so as not to be accused
of mysticism
glacially hills upon hills
cede themselves to
morning
become vested
cloaked in brush
waiting and ready
for the rite
he came
upon
the tree-backs
clashing
brass leaves
a pulsing
conflagration
for life
an eternal
dance of nature
transfigured
before the
starving bird
blinded and dazzled
it fell over forever
amongst dawn's heavy light
glittering rays
play with its feathers
and ants begin to assemble
(February 23, 2021)