Saturday, August 31, 2013

of autumn coming ...

solitary saturday bee
waltzes and weaves thru the porcelain berry
acompanied by a
single solitary
somewhere to the east
of summer 

Sunday, August 25, 2013

It lies there ....

There is a delicacy of word I strive for
Yet it was here all along ..
Sliced & blossomed by a candied telling poignant & blue
Discovered in the simple fact that
Pain hurts
And nothing frightens more than love lost
Petaled wet sorrow
Kilned into lapis
Marrow of ebony-lines steel-taunt & wry
There, there ..
Writers don't write but paint their reflection upon the night
And await another day ....

for Candice

Thursday, August 22, 2013

atma prema

we pick-up-sticks
tiddley winks
from view-master days
in our halcyon mirror
striving to be
who we yearn to be
the zaffre-blue summer moon disappears

streets & stars
spark our compassion
as pages burn in our bones
yet the heart of this moment
is all we need
and all
we ever need know

feel the day & dance with gods
let your soul rocket to the sun
& trust the moon
wholeness is found
in one

Saturday, August 17, 2013


This green corn moon
This perseid moon has me reeled in & bound
Flat out upon this lichen-rock mesa
Open, yet closed
Collecting no souvenirs
No trinkets
Hungry for movement & a reciprocal force
Electric & startling
A north westerly breeze shakes the maple leaves and they remember a bitter frost
all too soon . . .
As the day shines toward twilight
Expectant & paused

This sturgeon moon strips me of artifice & need
Pink & hollowed
Folded inside out
Awaiting strength
The breeze has quieted as twilight draws closer
Hearing echoes, whispers & purpose
Longing for a scent of pine & altitude
a secret stashed in my marrow

Bright me on, tap the fire-core
Rise up ooh full red moon
And sing me to a rising of spirit & knowing

Thursday, August 8, 2013


Brenda was born with a red sparkle heart
speckled fragments of ash in her bone
standing for hours in the shaded grass park
that laid there between our homes

Standing & staring to the prairie-blue sky
skinny arms twirling around ...
'til one day she flew up, in her gingham blue dress
her banjo-brown eyes not once looking down

Some children hear just the birds of the air . .
while others hear the whispers of wind beyond
striving to reach horizons unseen
yearning to break earth's bond

Brenda was slight as summer's green mantis
and nutmeg-brown as milo in fall
thin & transparent, yet so full of stardust
but not able to tell us at all ...

Her secrets she carried like a pocket of berries
with a name that didn't fit on my tongue
plucked they were from some galaxy's shore
with a color that shone like the sun

Brenda was born with a red sparkle heart
speckled atoms of Mars in her heart
flying thru life with an equation of dreams
and a song of rhubarb Mozart