Tuesday, May 31, 2016


the hollow rumble of emptiness
stillness gloaming under a Saturn moon
clear and vibrant the night
tumbled amongst memories shine
wonderland weary triumphant
we soar, we sleep
we swim in vast waters meant for
yellow and forgiveness

where does the bumblebee lay her head come the dark?
how softly do you sleep without me?
how beautiful is blue?

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

sometimes there is nothing but thunder

sometimes there is nothing but thunder
as i allow it to penetrate bones
fighting gravity

the carnival stills ....
there is nothing but thunder
and the steady pouring rain
eyes close & time tumbles clear
presence holds the moment

thought, struggle, fear & drive
forgotten against this green-wet-constant
there is nothing but the thunder
a particle of blue pulsing broken atoms
in rhythm with the falling

memory is distant--shared
pain is absent
thunder fills the holes
found .....


Friday, May 20, 2016

most mornings

We listen to our rock-n-roll most mornings
or a little country-soul tied up with a bow
move with the focus of a young kid watching a TV show
most mornings
A cup of coffee, a cup of tea
clean the bathroom, load of laundry
what to turn to next becomes the quandary
most mornings
Thoughts of him as I step out the door
the rain lands upon my face
his love becomes my saving grace
most mornings
Moving thru these ordinary hours
allowing the colors & breeze to soften soul
there is no want, no filling the hole
most mornings
Tending the house, reverent & tempered
the routine stays the same
except when it rains
most mornings

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Of a May Morning Found

sits in the light of nine o'clock morning
listening to pearl jam in her mind
blue jay calls outside the window
open to the southwest wind
no one knows of the truth that binds her
no one knows her quiet fears
just him

moves through her day with intent abiding
moves to the shadow of the sun
bends to the smells of the glisten & mallow
leans upon no one
no one hears the song that keeps her dancing
nudges the borders of her dreams
just him

paused & perched like a bird on a silver limb
tentative feathers brush her mind
rising from embers dedication lost
found open to vast-sky sunshine
no one reaches to the marrow
no one scraps the hollow
just him

Monday, May 2, 2016

copeland cowslip

winds out of the west at 14mph
on the second day in May
2 degrees shy of 60
with both hands firmly upon the dark maple's branches
tenderly throw the porcelain cup
- copeland cowslip -
from no greater height than 18 feet
aiming for the grass
just there ,,,
where the sun shines the softest
given these factors
with the
the moon waning crescent
the cup will not shatter

though a small crack
will appear

when it rains

May Day

the upheaval surprises
did not see the knot of this tangle
threaded of nettle & pine
able to hold the two strands apart
sand-bar in a stream
two strands not touching
the slightest cut of grief
as if we buried something precious & young
in a sand-bar .... in a stream
this upheaval
this tale
how weathered & unrequited
this is what it is like
this side
of the knot 


shadows linger
baseboards of this sequined desert
whispering of turquoise disillusionment
brandishing the cut-glass bottle of
regret and doubt
circle skirts twirl unheeded against this purple dusk-sky
dust disturbed in determined driven movement
unable to ignore the call
unable to remain


kick it up & dig that boot deep to earth
kick it up & dance away from surrender's bitter-root
nod to the shadows
grab it's gnarled ancient hand
take it to your chest to beat alongside
is there another word for heart?
red, bloody pumping thing
muscle of soul & life
beating madly present on this purple-sky day
bring in the charcoal shadow
outline the tap tap tap
as fire crackles & leaps calling shadows to light

it is only about
dancing in the dust