Tuesday, March 29, 2016


in the doldrums of late winter 
there are no words
tricky illusive basterds .... 
they are nowhere
well, of course ... 
they're somewhere 
but not 
.... falling from these fingertips 
in a threaded tumble 
fluid & tangible 
as breath 
or rain
there is no stream of tale or poem 
no manic observation 
or sensation to document 
upon a back of a magazine or captured whiteness 
my words have taken a holiday 
caught the two in the morning train 
hopped a flight 
to a secluded island off the Scottish coast 
of sea & cliff
heather &  heath 
here .... 
they are at peace 
in a quaint white cottage with a good fire, tea & cozy beds 
night skies are domed with the stars of a thousand songs 
and the sun teases warmth 
but delivers ease away from my hubristic juggled use 
away from the liquid pour & crafted will of my ordinary hours 
but ...
Spring is waking 
bringing green to the red bark of the japanese maple 
as hyancynith & crocus peek up from 
the dried straw-colored winter debris 
cranes are returning to the river 
today in the garden, 
Raised beds were cleaned 
dust & whiteness raked across the earth 
tidying & bending 
reaching & striving 
as the sun shone 
bright & brilliant upon my face 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

the road

funny how things come on
the opalescent compartment of soul suddenly shifting to amber
against the concrete dashboard
omnipresent darkness falling
soft rain falling
time collapsing
surrounded in the unmistakable scent of you
pressing pressing
clouded moons and no tomorrows

this spot of twilight gleaning
you.are. here.

with ....

Wednesday, March 23, 2016


i am ghost
transparent to all but a few
(seers or fools all)
replete with tambourine & crinoline
moving thru the alley lives of friends and strangers
pierced with perspective
upon the turning of seasons
little do they realize how vast my craft, how wild ....
little do they know the sweep of my blue illumination
carried here on wings tucked--hidden
to all
but a few....(seers & fools)
when words glaze my bones
find my feathered home
: seeing
i gasp
in the elixir'd
a Sun
i barely recall the name of:
: seen
this golden nest light

Monday, March 21, 2016

of wind

recycled words from sorrow's lips
replete with thundersnow & wine
darken the corners of this trip
no trace of trumpet vine …
ride the north wind
as long as you dare ….
lashed tight - eyes closed to the chill
push the luck to the shadowlands
fist raised to gravity's spill
flying - always the art of kings,
poets & gypsies blue
land ye soft upon fields of gold
escape lies north of you

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

March 14th

... of a day blue--cloud thick
gray--bird thick
stacked in rows across fields waking
calling calling to choir
               and plains
what silent pull alights them?
to water the color of vastness
easily lost in the river's tongue
ripple after ripple to shore
consumed by sky and pressing thunder far comes the night
        to illuminate eagle nest and night falling falling
circling t
hey come
straight and arrowed to land
one after one after sun sinks into brilliance
the sun
this night
as sound carries across the glass to bend the hearts
waiting ....
forged of winter and water's rhyme
danced in crimson shimmering
we become
as vast as gray birds
in this spot
of day's last breath

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

lamb to lion, moon to light, wrong to right

Upon a time . .
She was darkness tethered
unaware long ago she'd alchemized the chains
on an isle of truth
mazed by a field of wrong choices
lying to save something sane

porcelain broke
sorrowful circles
glimpses of light
treading life
ballast sought
grounded from flight
cement the cracks
and search for right

hunted as a fox to rabbits
desperation clings to bone & breath
lost to the grace
the grateful
living inside her head

rescue rides a dragon
awareness wakened by touch
surrender paid with contented cost
golden thread tenders much

recognition redirected
                  'til compassion for self is taught

so just saying;
the stones are heavy
throwing bleeds out the cut
with each tender toss
know that love always

Friday, March 4, 2016

of a march morning

paint me alabaster if you dare ....
feathered in grasses golden
i will stand solitary
and naked
fields laid smooth by northerly winds & tall white birds
add to me your meridian scars
         and raised to the sun
arms outstretched for crows & demons
paint me alabaster if you dare ....
far from crowds & circuses
far from pressed tenderness
as i hold tenderness between felt & fold
enough for a thousand lifetimes
noble patience comes the day
knowing rains & midnight to bind
paint me alabaster
i will wait for you
here ...