Thursday, December 30, 2021

within

 the shirt--striped yellow & white 

      or 

          maybe it was purple & white 

made of wildflowers & whispers either way 

i stole it off from the closet of a boy who dreamed 

of great horned owls & srtatocasters  

pressed between expectation & applause 

the shirt 

it felt like a cloud in December 

cooling & expectant 

safe 


snow will come



Monday, November 22, 2021

matter

what matters 

nothing is real real 

everything a dream dream 

dreams are real 

birds & branches 

wind & water 

this sun 

this age 

a dream that dreams of a bike, a movie theatre, my dad & you 

sometimes it rages 

sometimes it floats 

this sun 

this age 

this moon 

tuck the dream into the branch and await the bird 

-fucking music- 

moments tinged with golden difference 

we were real we were a dream 

sometimes raging 

sometimes floating 

a bike, a movie theatre, my dad & you 

unpack the dream
sort by color 
     the moments
     the age
     the evolution of self 

goddamit 

the sky changes
the dreams come 
the music plays 
not better without you 
just different
 - somehow - 

i am becoming the sun 
the wind 
the water 
the branch 
the bird 
the sky 



write it across the pink morning sky enough times and the story sounds like mine 




 




Friday, November 19, 2021

the spell of the full beaver moon

 whisper your secret upon my skin 

so i become feathered & eternal 

some long-legged crane watchful in a golden field 

transformation comes with pain 

corded & bound to earth 

your breath tattoos a silver oath 

smelling of earl grey & time 

what is this season? 

how shiny the scales as they creep & cover these aging bones 

sshhh 

only ghosts come her now 

only the feathered ones who can touch the moon 

Thursday, November 4, 2021

aconitum napellus

deep-blue
necromancer
tucked along the crease between worlds
pastures
plains
and sunrise sofa cushions
whatever 
discarded in feather canyons & forgiveness
winds still as morning turns pink-gray
paused here on the cusp of snow
emptiness feels tight--boa constrictor tight
sorrow purple rolling up the tendrils & traces of time
tick--tock
tuberous nevermore to ponder the space between leaves & leaving
white-blue this day
this whatever 
my body ceramic-electric
still
stone

surrender





Wednesday, November 3, 2021

to feel real

somewhere in the pocket between the branch & the bird

lies a velvet truth  

soft-secretly-intimate 

a knowledge a knot a night ringed with a burning smell 

of light & dark & winter's forecast

a hollow pressed upon moonlit grass 

autumn leaves carry the scent of pine-love 

lingering in dreams 

caught 

somewhere in the pocket between branch & bird 






Friday, October 22, 2021

lojong slogan #2

 to flatten the crease 

refold the life that held you up 

you are more than all your parts 

but

your parts 

hold the magic key that grants you 

immortality 



waning gibbous

cooling moon

shuttered light-well to Oz 

captivated  

driving  walking standing 

poised upon a ledge that has become too comfortable 

what is it 

this change of season? 

is it autumn? 

ding dong the witch is dead autumn 

no 

it is more 

this otherworldly tincture of days 

this moonglow spell of night 

casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses 

constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds 

lace underwear, football & fearlessness 

casting visions 

longing to be 10 .. ok ... maybe 15ish

lanky--full with secret words in my pockets

we make out in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . .  because we can 

because we are 15ish

well, 

you can be sixteen with your tamed arrogance & mahogany bones 

the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us 

I know what you look like in mornings 

and can smell you on my skin

innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth 

bodies lithe & limber twined naked--easy 

our tongues play cribbage against lips curious 

and sure 

sure of us 

paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep 

and 

soft 


suddenly

electric panes of glass slide 

revealing 

home 

in 

the moon


Thursday, September 30, 2021

cooling gray morning

        consumed by sky or passion's glass 

piercing -- it splits the day into tenured possibilities 

diamonds or dust 

stillness stroked to passive perch 

arched electric tremors seeking the solace of ash 

ancient the wind that comes to heal the wound 

slight the hand that stills the sorrow 


cloud stations forecast

fisher of riverfields
soft the grasp
play on thunderstorm 
exquiste cooling 
pond blossoms 
phoenix'd   
to love's fountain conspiracy 
of
quakes 
and snow 
and 
grassland wagontrains 
rain falling 
stealing birdsong and cowboys
moonwater rustles
the sun's 
goodnight 





Thursday, September 23, 2021

left

 more often it comes like light

falling upon the floor with lines straight/angled tight 

no poetry tonight 

he breathes deep sleeping curled in green & dust & day 

as i try to untie the remaining knots 

shadows swallow the sun at a quarter to five wind stills 

he turns towards into the night with promises of respite 

while knots become nighthawks soaring to an unchartered home 

Friday, September 10, 2021

west on highway 6









west on highway 6
along
fresh-mown road ditches where wild 
goldenrod fields pierce cardamon daydreams
to
the
thrum-thrum of tires on crappy pavement baked in midwestern sun at 91 degrees

these dog days of summer will likely head-butt
into a near morning's early frost
silvering threads of conversation & memories
buried six inches & 12 months deep in soil
the color
of
coffee grounds 
& honeyed cigar smoke 

thrum-thrum

sunflower towers catch dragonflies & remorse

petaled mile-markers randomly blown from Orion's belt

what design do they illuminate
what trail of illusion
where does regret lie 

thrum-thrum

it smells
of
green

this ageless september day 

thrum-thrum


gaoth

these days when wind becomes blood
coursing
bursting
awaiting the indigo bloom
blossom cherry'd
and
petaled thru September

of welter and frost's threat

Sun turns fear to vastness blue
dimmed not by darkness
or
love's feathered weight
all fire
brimming

becoming
Spring 

Thursday, September 9, 2021

dante's dart















i remember quite clearly the night the worlds sadness as my own

pink nylon baby-doll pajamas, appliqu├ęd blue flowers & ruching

8 yrs old, hair long & pigtailed the color of cornsilk

kneeling on my bed
pressing against screen of the open window 

pressing 
leaning 
gazing 
into the september nite

late

dark 

quiet

twinkling stars

tasting the lonely despair on the end-of-summer breeze
a parade of heartache & pain leaked into my skin leaving its burn 

i saw an ancient, folded & forgotten mahogany woman pacing to & fro across some cracked damp floor

a solitary soldier cold & wet loosing his humanity with every step

a frightened child with dark eyes hiding from the sharp sting of thoughtlessness

a small boney white dog not understanding how gentle hands can be

a stolen life
a fearful task
a lonely death

dante's dart landed upon my heart

no amount 
of pink groovy psychedelic sunshine could stop that parade upon the fabric of my soul

so i would kneel upon my pink groovy bedspread in my pink groovy sunshine life
every nite
pressing against the darkness 
gazing out 
gazing up 
     at the stars 
wishing for strength
wishing for magic
wishing for enough love to shoulder
dante's dart

September 9th

somedays the blue jay is quiet
my throat constricted
walled against the joy i know resides in my belly
tight as a folded rosebud in spring

somedays the blue jay is quiet

narrow & small
pasted to the back corner pocket
a particle of pink agate
tucked -- trembling with the less-than
stillness tumbling in sorrow's shadow against the day

somedays the blue jay is quiet
no breeze to rock the branches of the hackberry
no acorns falling from the oak
no robins waking to dawn
just an empty aching echo

grayness falls into my corner
draping its felted electricity over old bones
clutching,,,,wrapping tighter
it transforms to feathers

and i fly

no need to sing when all the words become the sky

...so beloved by the universe
no mortals here can compare 

Thursday, August 26, 2021

August

porcelain berry to willow we fly 

sometimes resting, sometimes turning back 

to a branch - a spot that felt yellow 

or grey 

to hold on 

or remember ... 

movement brings joy & sky wrapping the dust & despair 

like midnight in summer 

when there are no stars 

movement welcomes the breath & the being of 

this day 

promised to no one 


oak to maple to wire we fly 

seeking home 

     or 

what feels most like home 

closing eyes to the invisible light

of 

  the  

       sun 

shaking these feathers free of sorrow 

hope lies in the crack of contrast & prayer

sing to me of better days that lie folded in leaves

are we bird or branch?

light or dark? 

sun or moon? 


perhaps we are sky that holds it all  






Wednesday, July 28, 2021

swallowtail

paced precision
bangs need cutting
clothes too baggy
skin saggy
what do we measure?
when do we care    
enough
to braid that crimson thread
hitch a ride on a blackbird bed
pluck the feathers from pink solitude
unraveling the tempest
touching love's conquest
love's conquest?
ah!
AH
    more likely...
a draw
a tie
a coin balanced 
equanimity smoothed 
tucked
no triumph
no parade today
just
breath drawing
heart thawing
under the haze
and
heat
of this July sun

Monday, July 26, 2021

ticktock

 ... you dreamed me as i dreamed him 

in wool & shadows waiting 

how does that work in the field between here and there?

do we belong? 

the thing is 

i am merely summers dust motes 

weltering 


belonging everywhere 

and nowhere 


indigo sparrows alighting between lunar moths 

as marigolds bloom 

i belong in the golden orange bloom of evermore 

trembling green ...


just as i know where i am 


i am lost 


between the petaled folds with a taste of pennies & sky in my mouth 

what is this place? 

this plateau of change 

one moment replete with vastness and the next 

narrow 

outlined in sorrow's gaberdine 

time rushes unapologetically from branch to branch to sun beams of yesterday 

trapped i am in this landscape of age & everything 

golden 


golden 


wait for me there 




Sunday, July 18, 2021

diamond night

were you there? 

with textures soft 

green t-shirt striped shorts short skin fresh as sixteen 

to sixty 

fireflies light this room where you sit 

legs gambled crossed with a face I know as yours 

tilted back to night 

rising 

bending to you 

there is kiss that travels thru time 

to 

this 

foggy summer morning like a song that won't go quietly .... 

were you there 

     in that diamond dream night? 



Friday, July 16, 2021

beingness

 the space between the trees & me 

filled with morning's haze 

a stillness transcendant 

verdant breath carries the call of the blue jay into my marrow 

filling 

stilling 

every cell & particle between the trees & me 

abundant the air 

this dense gray dawn 


awaiting the sun ....


Wednesday, July 14, 2021

wednesday's child

though the cut is sharp ...
shallow rest the ditches of sorrow & loss 
stark against the morning grey as blue jays call to the rain 
and the missingness 
everything is grey--fields & farther 
sky & storm 
heart & bone 
thick this haze --this touchstone 

the closer you gaze at the bottom, the sharper the contrast 
between then 
and now 
then and now ...

wild the ache 
wide the place of grief 
keep it close and weave from it a life rich with stones 
and the water of sorrow 



Thursday, July 1, 2021

when it rains in june

 when it rains in june and the trees delight 

anthems shimmering from drenched leaves 

as birds sing to the grey 

such is this day 

a dog barks revealing the spaces between here 

and there 

echoed overcast arched green & greener 

where do clouds go when it all goes to grey? 

where should i ... 

go 

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

beowulf

if i linger for a beat longer than a blink 

if i close my eyes & conjure a space boundary-less & undiscovered 

full of light

full of darkness 

smelling of summer & salt 

there you are 

taking up the invisible corners 

whispering to the day with an nearly imperceptible shadow 

clinging to me like a dust mote that lands at three o'clock in the afternoon 

finding its home upon my shoulder 

light darkness summer salt 

you are my summer grass 

my small spark of everything outside the lines 

some, let's linger and talk of radical bees & possibilities 


there you are 

Thursday, June 24, 2021

noon thirty

 i sat inside the hive and listened to the air of just afternoon 

tangible tremors of a westerly breeze bringing rain 

and a measure of grace 

abundant robins scattering songs amidst the overcast 

weighty seems the day 

the heart can hardly absorb the wonder present 

in one breath 

one moment 

one birdsong 


Friday, June 18, 2021

summer at midday

 June days when the wind comes out of the southwest 

hot--smelling of highways & old diners 

the pony runs between the white line & the sage 

time sweeping the hours to twilight 

as the sun transforms skin to golden shadows 

ageless 

possibility stretches from horizon to hope

and back again 

how wild these days

how tender the ride 

Friday, May 28, 2021

(paused)

grab the tail 

comet up! 

maple's whirligig a-light 

canopy of green delight

drenched in spring honey whisperings 

nothing belongs 

nothing is too much 

when traveling 

at the speed of emptiness





from a window on davis avenue

waiting watching i remember from such an early age 

peering out into the darkness to sorrow's tucked in far off corners 

a knowing unknowing pressing pulling of stars  

unlit 

needing more 

wrapped in flannel 

wrapped in pink guidance quested unblinking 

sureness of a valley lost to views earthly tangle 

rest becomes a tempest of strange seeking 

or 

being sought amid the shadows 

caught 

at morning's radiant beaming bright 

meadowlarks wake the wonder of each & every color 

while rows & rows of iris bloom magnificent 

under a moon 

who remembers the night ....


Thursday, May 27, 2021

rise

one moment to mark the line between what was 

what is 

hands nesting 

seeking refuge from emptiness & fullness

now tangled in cottonwood 

patterns of 

moonlight 

we become another--untorn unbroken 

as peonies at daybreak 

wear me like sweet blue silk and I will sing you free 


Wednesday, May 26, 2021

the tall grass

 nebraska skies are cloudy 

with weather on the way 

you call and wonder if i heard that song 

though three years have passed 

though it's actually four

but three feels saner somehow 

and i answer as if it was just this morning from 

a fancy elevator in switzerland 

you called to say you loved me more 

and the room gets draped in shadows grey 

as the dandelion sun hides away 

at only four 

i'm sitting on the dining room floor 

breathless 

lifeless 

though my blood is singing against bones too fragile for may 

silence is sex & water 

lifting to sorrow's fields golden and

wishing 

for more of the things not asked for 

love is found in the corners & the contrast 

of rosemary and leather-honeyed tongues 

have i heard that song 

of course i have 

on a concrete loop amidst the blue of my days 

he tells me all the things i want to fall from your lips 

things you've whispered over lines & skin 

thru dreams dark with dust & power 

he says the lines of every song 

though it's only four 

there's some fragment of memory lodged in the feathers of this spring 

holding a foolish cloudy wonder 

with weather on the way 

rain always brings you home 

and i'll answer the door 

like it's only four 







Friday, May 14, 2021

pausing for an hour here

 this place 

that stings as three blue jays fly overhead 

each movement swollen with clouds 

rain comes 

later 

after it grows quieter 

stingier 

sharp not sharp 

this place 

am i hollow or have i merely become a cloud 

dense with vapor cooling 

cooling 

are my eyes open or closed against the lack

of sun 

where are the birds now? 

here -- feathers tucked against my breastbone 

holding their quiet breath 

becoming clouds 


Tuesday, May 4, 2021

chapter two ~ missing

 what is this place? 

this bardo of quiet

this palest endless plain 

every direction looks the same 

every breath electric 

broken 

searching for some token 

necessity 

apology 

where does the love go now? 

in this realm of quiet ... 



Monday, April 26, 2021

when it smells of rain when no rain is forecast

 it smelled of rain this morning 

through the darkness of an open window before dawn 

there it was 

that heady remarkable scent 

riding rising on the south wind 

opening cracks between time & need 

sticking there to pull 

to draw one aside into a well of 

morning wonder 

no forecast of rain 

only sun & warmth 

by the time the sun rises 

the smell has become a cardinal song 

and I have returned ...

smoke rising after the bonfire

to tell you of the sweep of sensations that take my breath these days 

how the green of grass carries a deeper green 

the sky is vaster 

the heart beats faster 

to tell you of opening the blue jar of multitudes 

-- their colors -- 

shapes -- 

and the weight of dust & shame 

-- relieved 

removed -- 

and

how loss cuts sharper 

longings departure 

wish I could tell of the sweetness of small hands 

and the brilliant love thrumming there 

(but you probably know that)

how as the sun breaks thru the west windows it 

brings 

a radiant moment's prayer 


look at how the wind scatters the blossoms of the apple trees 

to tell you ... 


 

Thursday, April 22, 2021

there and back again

 capricorn rising to a gemini sun

lake begotten overdone 

misplaced nuture 

storylines 

telephones & tomato vines 

daffodil streets 

white bread homes 

hopscotch across catholic bones 

be seen not heard 

between expectations 

palomino horse transformation 

deer visit amid winter's hesitation 

no mud 

no lotus 

perfection unknown 

grey sky morning 

coming home 




Thursday, April 8, 2021

reflection across two parallel mirrors

 the striations run east to west 

or perhaps they are west to east at this time of time 

all i know is the light pierces me 

seeping into my bloodstream 

following the pull of the trembling gravity of this moment 

light 

quarking & fracting & splitting into channels 

to 

land in my heart of a thousand suns 

to

carry the sky within 

Monday, March 22, 2021

at eight o'clock on a grey morning

 sitting next to the last dog 

drinking coffee against the dawn 

i suddenly become rain 

coming on softly 

then thunderous 

as birds sing of this promised day 

grey velvet spring 

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

breathing

 turn the corner 

     over the shoulder 

     the woolen weight of impossibility ribbons the sky 

turn the heart forward 

toward the sun of love 


Tuesday, March 16, 2021

279 1/4 hours ...

 how to convey the vast grey evermore of a 

nebraska sky in march....

swallowing morning's despair, longing 

and earl grey tea 

stillness 

comes after rain 

follows the trail 

to take you home to golden fields & sandhill cranes 

golden golden 

pierce me and leave me whole 



Wednesday, March 3, 2021

parts

 These parts sit in a yellow jar upon a wooden shelf next to an open window 

there is a elementary blue flower on the jar 

I don't really like yellow 

but there it is 

dust motes have settled around & on 

as

I don't open it anymore 

surrender is in there smelling of summer grass & garden soil 

under a gazebo at midnight 

also ecstasy 

and love 

I suppose 

though it is hard to separate that from the birds 


Wednesday, February 24, 2021

the fallowing year

 stay the hand 

stay the heart 

door ajar 

the window sash 

words dormat as crocus quiet 

the fallowing year 

behind yet still silent 

each sweeping second 

memories drench 

this fierce & fragile mirage set 

as sparrows and chinook breezes 

melt the snow 

pulse the breath to passage narrow 


new year's wonder glow 


the wind picks up

 lenticular clouds mark the blue 

altering hours to silver passages 

tucked between oak branches & distant highways 

sleepy grows the morning as pine siskins follow the sun 

allowing the richness of corners & dust motes to beckon 

the stars 

Tuesday, February 23, 2021

whispers

 carved ring of wood black 

summer green grass 

horses & tumbleweeds 

of first snow smell 

handfast 

pressed to stars & rivers path 

the wonder of heart to night 

flesh to air cold with winter's snap 

sliding thru the inbetween 

time tumbles marbles on a sidewalk 

sixty years on 



Sunday, February 21, 2021

february

 through a lens polished by a winter's sun 

one finds an imprint of death traced upon skin grown accustomed to solitude

lacquered by sixty years of summer cherries

and hope 

Oh what wonders lie just beyond this day

tucked into time & stars & the smell of blue 

what remarkable brilliance rests alongside the cut 

so sharp the angle of winter light 

deceivingly soft the drifts of snow 

weary the day 

dark will be the night 

following the brightness of this winter sun 

Saturday, February 6, 2021

how a winter sky takes you up


a Winter sky takes you up 

beyond your bones & weight 

to ride upon the timeless wings of cranes 

and other feathered things 

as snow slumbers the earth towards an unchained 

Spring 

I am weightless 

unbounded 

wrapped in a cold that cuts 

and smells of striving & light 

marveling in the quiet of streets 

and forgiveness