Oh mirage,
translucent ghost!
Tortoise barely ahead of the hare,
child of the warm, lasting hugs from the golden age,
then child around whom I could never secure my arms-
Tag: writing
The Stirring
I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here-
love like moisture in humid air, about to rain down.
Whispering through the rustling leaves, tickling my ear,
anticipation comes long before thunder sounds.
I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here.
As vividly felt as transporting scent-Read More »
Trust
You think I’m being emotional, (and I am going to use the word but,
but don’t stop listening,) but when I start to repeat myself,
it’s because I don’t think you understand. And you don’t think I understand
that you do, but the times I repeat myself are the times that you think I’m emotional-
that I’m saying something that makes sense but doesn’t really matter.Read More »
Lumberjack’s Return
This, the point of the yellow-green crayon-
the grass of this light, not too bright clearing,
the trees circled ‘round like an audience
or perfect fence, this somehow bigger than recalled
but still small enough to cradle us,
place of our memories.
Still, with the hunch in my shoulders I sense
a peripheral silence. Sure enough,Read More »
The Speed of Slow
I want to know the Speed Of Slow;
I want to know To Never Know,
to have no Known Idea.
I want to know the beat that peace makes-
Rhythm played
by feet of horses towing Amish buggies.
I want to taste the fruit of labor, ever savoring the flavor-
honest scent that never says nor once implies
that man can fly through time and never
whispers that the times are flying either.
Equivalence-
Movements…
I want to get from creek to peak remembering that every moth
that I walk past is passed by in the sum of beats that leave its wings
while in my presence-
wholly as it should be and only as it could be,Read More »
Letter
Innocent,
adorable,
exactly like a lie,Read More »
the shore
back forth in out
up slide down
the earth the moon the tide the waves
a tireless barista
wet dark sand beneath
white foam cappuccino
sea
always busyRead More »
Heights, Defiance, and Things at Stake
No matter your imaginings and dreams,
gravity, a mere theory, not really proved,
preached by grown-ups, strikes you true-
You’ve never managed to fly away
or stop their pulling your feet back to
the ground, your head out of the clouds.
Your grown-ups haven’t stayed starry-eyed.
Danger, of course, you take as even less than theory-Read More »
What the Window Framed
I thought it was a picture,
and I wanted to turn it into a song,
so I kept trying to look and gaze it in,Read More »
Glow
Canoes tilt slightly beneath garbanzo bean clouds.
We try to hear the crickets, but the silence is too
loud. Pink sky over aquamarine
sea, and I don’t look at you. Astute.
Relaxation. You can be my eyes. Don’tRead More »
Alphabet Ravine 