Friday, June 10, 2022

waiting

 I have been there  ... 

in the space between barely breathing 

thistles & vervain cushion my steps 

     but they have been few 

they have been compassed towards you 

yet 

     the Sun shines 

on me right here with all my sweat & heartache 

with all these scars I was told to keep out of the Sun 

because they will darken & thicken 

yet

they become thick with ignorance & disgust as well 

so stand in the Sun 

darken those scars and 

point your thistle vervain compass towards your own heart 

towards your own Sky and Sun and Being 


brief

 knee deep in saffron fields 

smelling of regret & acceptance 

I am all that has been within this sweep of hand 

of gaze 

of breath 


present

      it has been days that feel like years since i've written any words 

here 

from my lips 

from my hands drip broken tea cups full of blossoming 

blue skies and space 

endless images drip behind my eyes inked & outlined 

clouds once white become the leaves of songs 

gifted offerings of birds & plastered dreams 

what chapter is this? 

what lies here with me within this life? 

the bark of summer trees or the borrowed aspects of others 

I've gathered to my cups? 

delicate presence awakening towards the sun 


Tuesday, April 19, 2022

take your time

 Don't go about it all willy-nilly 

tie your shoes first 

(make sure you didn't forget your pants) 

masks no longer required 

(for the time being) 

deep breaths are good here  

take your time 

wear a light jacket - maybe that blue one 

open the door 

and 

two-step towards the street 

quick step quick step slow step 

pause 

deep breath 

look up to the waiting sky 

arms up 

leap towards the morning moon there in the West 

push hard against the Earth 

trust it 

PUSH HARD! 

trust the Earth to send you 

trust me to catch you 

      there just beyond that wispy white cloud 

I will catch you 



Monday, April 18, 2022

Five Answers to the Same Questions

I. 

daffodils 

great horned owls 

laughter times truth 

reasons 

rhymes and pink chalk lines 

red bird songs

the color blue 


II. 

antelopes 

jack-a-lopes 

marma-chuck-your-sweetie 

bubble gum notes 

small hands close

maples & oaks 

heart's entreaty 


III. 

feathers & things 

all flying things 

dog's breath & kisses 

sorrow's bursting epistle 

what fools who travel 

this path 

fates fancy dash 


IV. 

tight-rope balance 

high-flying kites 

forests & rivers 

time moves so fast 

buckled in 

yet groundless 

boundless 


V. 

red maples & honeysuckle 

cedar wax-wing's song 

lavender sunflowers 

everything can go wrong 

so many things right 

hold things loosely 

hold hope & constelaltions tight 

take flight! 


 







Of a dog

Concave lies the hole 

the missing 

the loss 

   too great to learn the topography of .... 

   too recent to fill with another 

Huck was a pup 

self's true companion 

unconditional 

unrelenting 

     love 

now 

    this invisible force 

this presence pressing 

i swear I just heard you shaking 

   your wet fur, your wee being there in the dining room 

just now 


Oh, how your missing creates such sorrow 


        see you tomorrow   

         


Prairie

What is this freckled landscape found here? 

     shadows & light scattered about the fields still fallow & fair 

sandhill cranes alight to prance flirtatiously 

     to eat, to rest under a northern wind - gray clouds appear 

dotted & dizzy seeking sun's glare 

                 Spring's unfolding graciously 

 

Bowing--rising--greeting each prairie day with silver wings 

    Oh! What ridiculous creatures we are compared to them ....

two-legged gasping wingless beings 

    striving & trying for such useless things 

Spring teachings  






Friday, April 15, 2022

of what i don't know

 he talks of wheels & cogs 

wheels & cogs 

wheels & cogs 

endlessly looping on structure & function 

endlessly talking of HVAC production 

this part goes here 

this part goes there 

i. don't. care. 

Thursday, April 14, 2022

coming back

An ever widening aperture 

paintbox of color trying to burst the black & white  

suddenly the field beyond awash in golden-grey 

this 

prairie state 

this simple street 

in a simple town 

1958 

sun at a quarter to a late afternoon 

summer blue explodes across the sky  

clouds gathering 

field lays dry 

a simple white house comes into hazy view 

a driveway 

stationwagon 

a man dressed for town in suit & tie 

a beautiful woman dark-haired & tanned 

baby pink-cheeked & lace

     as a pony goes galloping by

a palomino no saddle or reins 

running East 

towards the forecasted rain 

the camera stays with the babe 

     as she's placed in her crib 

but we see her kaleidoscope mind searching for the horse 

she knows he's not far 

as he followed her here from beyond this place 

somewhere distant 

some different place 

a companion of sorts--a seeker of spirit of bone 

a teller of tales of the vast unknown 

we see the pale horse 

     turning back to the West 

we see the babe sleeping--dreaming 

as clouds darkly thicken 

a thunderstorm boldly bursts over the simple street and dry fields

as the horse comes to stand before the simple white house 

waiting 

knowing the baby slumbers 

with rain & love prevailing 





Wednesday, April 13, 2022

just look at that would you!

The sun it rises 

backlighting trees & houses & birds & telephone poles 

yet again 

it rises! 

somewhere beyond the overcast clouds & dust of this day 

it is here 

yet again 

though the wind still blows and those damn clouds obsure the sun 

     for now 

it is there - it is here 

illuminating this street this town this day 

yet again 

despite our sorrow our tiny deaths our despair 

it rises 

lending light to our hearts 

light to this breath this being 


just look at that would you! 

The sun it rises yet again .... to this world 


Tuesday, April 12, 2022

and then some

trespassed gazebo brambled tight 

shy language of the night 

summer grass collides against the milky way

stars foreplay 

driving fast 

with only you 

two souls reckless rendezvous 

yellow shirt 

white jeans 

that belt

rumpled sheets 


oh! what i had with you 


dragons, orbs & rescues 

scent of meadow fescue 

elven tongue 

games begun 

midnight conversation's twilight 

these secrets shared 

we dared


what i had with you 


different paths 

bridge to moon 

the painter, the poet 

a drifter

a meadowlark whisperer 

uncovered 

discovered

parts of self turned whole 

fire tempered unfolds  

amidst empty foolish possibility 

wasted time? 


what i had with you 


smaller hands now search for mine 

hide-n-seek & trumpet vines 

make believe 

with only you 

love always circles round anew 


oh what i had with you 

the edge of things ...




distance becomes blue 
seeping to bones of linen lost 
prism pressed in equations
exponentially lost 
yet 
greater than the speed of light
particles fractured into a thousand spinning suns 
ringing with the vibrations of whiskey, waiting undone 
blue + linen becomes a softer blue 
content with this sun
and
these dust motes holding true 







ode to a place by a river

tangle the thread
watch the indigo bloom
corn gone to seed
'neath the three-quarter moon
sweet pollen of prairie hangs in the night
sticky nostalgia drifts three stars to the right  
tapped-pulled and pressed to pink twilight's burst
tumbled and scattered as dust-motes rehearse
at once both trapped under yesterday's kiss
and
here in this field under stardust & mist
eyes closed to hold tight this vestige of sensation
eyes open to welcome the electric vibration
-here-
in the vastness of wide open night
-there-
pierced & gifted with one promise bright
untangle the thread
smell the coming of rain
lay down in tall grass 

remain





Monday, April 11, 2022

victorious moon

transformed
by wind
by storm
and rivers golden cups
linear burning from the hyacinth bud 
poised
     upon
          the
               sill of day
rest beneath these three swords
magic manifesting
opal
and
blue

blue
bluer
bluest

transformed poppy to sunshine whiskey
a sparrow lands and takes it all away

Ahh, Perseus

my heart has been pinched between
the Milky Way
and the raspberry bush
and
left to die

love in 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 away

(though actually four)

four years 

but three feels saner somehow 

and i answer as if it was just this morning 

from 

some fancy elevator 

you called to say you loved me more 

     and the room gets draped in shadows prism'd grey 

just as the day's dandelion sun hides away 

at only four 

sitting on the dining room floor 

breathless 

lifeless 

blood singing against bones too fragile for May 

silence is sex & water 

lifting to sorrow's fields golden and

wishing 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 hear from lips 

things whispered over lines & skin 

thru dreams dark with dust & power 

he says the lines of every song 

though it's four not three 

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 three not four 







there

come tell me of something eternal 

something that sings from your heart bones 

a thing resplendent in shine 

a thing that vibrates true 

you feel it don't you? 

how bright your light 

you feel it?

love's home?

come  


Friday, April 8, 2022

april sparrow

wait! 

alight! 

wind-wind-wind-wind-wind 

fly! fly! try! fly! 

alight!  no ... not here 

there 

there! 

a branch birch white 

WIND! 

grasp grasp grasp release 

let go 

         fly 

small am i against the clear blue 

sky bright 

a branch down there appears bare 

to 

await the afternoon light 







Thursday, April 7, 2022

all's fair

Tell me of 

an army that marches on its stomach 

oh how all logic plummets!

a fish, an apple, a loaf of bread 

an army turns all exceptions to rule the head 

from mind and heart fear is shed 

courage often lies in strange fellows beds 

from feet -- strength comes -- no ties that bind 

to sinew & bone - muscles strive & strive ...


an army that marches needs a fair wind to ride 



Wednesday, April 6, 2022

"Hope" is the thing with feathers...

Hope lies beneath the wing feathers of a meadowlark that

is momentarily paused upon 

the curly willow and the yellow thing there, that 

thing one uses to sweep away remorse from the shawdowlands 

with whispers tucked within the

feathers of a daydream . . . 





Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Giganticus Brutervious

along the banks of Walgren Lake 

on nights when stars burn bright 

one spies  

a mudpuppy greyed & horned 

singing & riding an apple red trike 

pedaling fiercely his tiny legs churn 

along the banks of this tranquil pond 

his scaled body leaning into each wide turn 

two feet broad & ten feet long 

he spouts as he pedals 

a trilling stream of song 

this mudpuppy of Lake Walgren 

always a real charmer ... 

Oh Nebraska such delights you harbor 


Monday, April 4, 2022

NaPOWriMo Poetry Writing Prompt Day Four

 1. Find yourself in youth driving along a backcountry road in Colorado 

2. Think twice before taking the right hand turn 

3. Think again 

4.Turn backwards in the passenger seat to alter our view 

5.  Roll down the window 

6. Smell deeply 

7. Laugh at his joke 

8. Suddenly hear the bluejay singing just there by the river 

9. Notice the deer swimming upstream in same river 

10. Smell more 

11. Turn back around to sit in the seat the typical way 

12. Take a nap as he takes you higher 

13. Wake two hours later 

14. Open the door 

15. Find the poem there at the base of the second aspen tree next to the big pink rock 

to wake

 "Bones"  by Mary Oliver

......."our part is not knowing

but looking, and touching, and loving

which is the way I walked on,

softly, through the pale-pink morning light."


to wake   , , , 

To wake each morning 

in darkness unsure 

replete with dreams 

and starlight 

rising and walking and waking 

touching upon tender pink hope 

that lies in the day's early hours 

we wish, we reach and strive 

to embrace whatever lies beyond the rising 

....our part is not knowing 


step by step by waking step 

a certain weariness settles 

as the sun rises on in shadows & light 

...and birds 

bring sweet melody upon a breeze

spring promised 

by sprouts of purple hyacinth and 

daffodils butter yellow brilliance 

our place, our breath, our being, nothing more  

but looking, and touching, and loving 


come day ~ 

bring on your color erudite & everlasting 

there the dogwood's red buds come on so delicately 

as a thousand crocus endeavor 

to find the clever sun 

gently I step between the mounds of life & loam 

gently as the clouds drift casually against the blue 

everything a whispered promise of warmer days 

gently, gently ... 

which is the way I walked on 


walked on through the subtle morning light 

reflection coming on through window glass 

walked on to early morning coffee 

dawn's reminder of evermore 

day's hours clocking past 

walked to pass out to bird's gathering  

resilient to april wind 

remarkably courageous new day 

coming on 

softly,  through the pale-pink morning light 


long grass

restless 

relentless 

the wind does that 

days upon days  

present amongst the long grass 

toary fields stretching to the blue sky horizon-line 

here fly the harrier hawks and short-eared owls of dusk 

shielding & sheltering & hunting 

         in the blonde stalks 

be still and smell the wind 

the scent of season's changing drifting in waves 

this late afternoon light 

this late day golden 

a story about the body or not

 every day is accompanied by a body that is not of my own making but of my own making 

dripped 

in 

extraordinary time 

a vessel myrtle'd each spring between the somnolent and the rain why oh why are we waking just as we tire from the ordinary, why is this not the face i believe to be mine but that of someone much older and not yet laced with wisdom bolder  but infinite and golden

wire wrapped in every joint & sinew this sharp reminder of mortality echoes against the bloom of april

against the spark of tenderness that the robin sings so easily of .... 



Friday, March 25, 2022

stripped

moss always grows on the north-side of trees 

even in winter's cold darkness 

given enough light 

moss grows 

beckoning to the constellations that lie there 

out there 

up there 

dividing the haves & the have-nots of bark & branch & belief 

moss grows on hard things 

trunks & brick & hearts 

which direction do you face when the sun shines? 

do you allow moss to grow there between the rivers & rises of your desires? 

moss always grows on the north-side of trees 





Wednesday, March 16, 2022

11:10 retro-soul-dust


Everything is Bollywood carnival-dog
slap jack & jackalope abalone poker
two-step, side-step & dance a little closer . .
Ring around the rosy, pockets full of blackbirds
syncopated entanglements of undecided waters
we waltz to rhythms pyro-plastic & unsure
no trees, no bees . . global jihad on it's tour

Everything is neon
no pastel softness to be found
snowy owls make headlines
as tender bones lay upon Somalia's ground
jumping-jack-flash sings for recompense
One a penny, two a penny hot-cross-mess
solar flares shift as politics lace this holy ground
splashing hope & god to glory
evermore where labyrinths bound

Everything is matter and matter rides the zephyr train
boomerang cupcakes & bluestem coyote-pain
random sparks of poppy-cane
sure as crocus sprouting 
and the scent of thunder rain
circle your paint wagon Monet & Gauguin
like a diamond in the sky as star-dust rivers our souls
Dreams paint our daytime
as story's words are sowed . . .

Everything is cotton
Everything is dust
The owl and the pussycat went to sea
on knotted threads of crimson trust
Mercury flaps a flapjack
jousting with the moon
Borealis morning
Collide will happen soon . .



Thursday, March 3, 2022

march wind. . . .


walls flat-line to ivory sails
winter's ghost trailing
love stories defined in black sharpie
against the azure day
shifting
shifting 
dimensions blending into ripe copper moments
shifting
a single desire to feel your skin against my back
breaking the fall
into
the turning ...
the
opening
of
spring
the north wind shifts suddenly to the left of you
at 30 mph
and
I
smell
the river
and all those copperline moments
sparked
&
full
distinctly riding upon the backs of sandhill cranes
skin to feathers
wind to home 

the call of Spring

The cranes are on the river
swooshed ruffling feathers on ice & winter water
heart-bones vibrating to the ancient gathering call
against morning's violet sky

of March ....

 what joy & idle lie here 

along this branch that arches 

 to a sun hidden by clouds 

this day feels tender & possible 

there is no skin 

no boundary between what is mine 

and what is everything 

it is all arching towards an infinite sky 

possible 


Wednesday, March 2, 2022

here

 a rainforest burst against the desert of my lips

              pressed & imprinted 
                        there 
a trace of chalky white sand smelling of the sea & antiquity 
               there for eternity 
sun burning melting my skin to yours along the horizon-line of dreams & vast emptiness 
             saturated with wild wonder I wait 
                 for the cooling of night   

Tuesday, March 1, 2022

україни

this same sun 

this same sky 

these same stars 

shine at night 

how to make sense of a war we can't see or hear 

no circling bombs only clouds & birds 

here 

the same sun shines 

rising each day 

the same sky of blue 

lifts cares away 

may these stars guide all 

to rest & peace 

to those who seek respite & ease 

away from war 

away from fear 

away from homes they hold so dear 

towards better days 

towards open arms 

may it cease today ....  this unholy time 


one sun 

one sky 

one prayer unites 

one wish for all 

for peace tonight 


Monday, February 21, 2022

unfinished

 someday i will be a thing before 

a thing before the prairie grass 

before this fragile heart & skin took hold 

a thing before the feel of, the smell of spring waking 

someday i will be a thing before the years turn you tall & wise 

and i will be fire & light 

and time

....striving to make a mark upon trees & spirit 

before the ribbon of night becomes brilliant 

someday I will be a thing before 



Saturday, February 12, 2022

age of noticing

dew to dragon scale 

where once was possibility lies now the possible 

bearing witness to transformation 

subtle mighty curse 

shadows become familiars where once was light 

turbulence comes to tea daily 

bearing witness to love's champagne fire 

dew to dragon scale 



Monday, January 31, 2022

silvertone


there is a frequency coming thru the thinned porcelain berry 

pitched to a winter cardinal

north south east west 


this wind blows from river to plains 

to

mountains west 

straight line wired on a midnight promise 

bound for boulder canyon on the zephyr train 

root me to earth with birdsongs of spring 

and the sorrow of finer things

drifts pile pile against the need 

for a clean slate 


surrender all your shame

here 

amongst the  debris of storms 

and 

      love 


root me 

take me 

leave me 

all the same under a snow promised 

pink sky day 



Friday, January 28, 2022

surprise/no surprise

 mad hatters & cambrics 

moons & twilight 

snowflakes 

grasslands and turkish delight 

i've crafted & weaved your affections in ink 

painting the inside & outside to link 

    to the crimson red threading my hand 

bring me back to gazebos in summer grass & the taste of cheap wine 

bring me back to the twisting open road 

with you under my hand 

sharp

silent 

sunburned wedding bands 

hold on 

hold on ... to this ride 

so treacherous & so long 

mad hatters & cambrics 

moon & twilight 

snowflakes 

grasslands and turkish delight 

how preciously shimmering this one wild life ....





these days

 death is my constant 

     these days 

step for step 

no longer a shadow to the hours 

but a piper leading to grace & belonging 

wrapping me in waiting 

white velvet cooling 


      these days 

Monday, January 24, 2022

rabbit holes

 i answered the door and home crossed the threshold 

velvet worlds beckoned 

 we jumped  1 … 2 … 3 


slipping into comfort & cloaks of knowing 


walls sang of edges 

the sheets sang of us 

alignment a funny thing - how it falls from your hand 

reckoning 

1…2…3. 

what rises from the dust becomes a rusted trust 

good luck charms burn just like old trees with a little gasoline 

skin holds the trace of love like a secret tattoo 


always there 

across the threshold 

1...2...3