Friday, March 25, 2022


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
dimensions blending into ripe copper moments
a single desire to feel your skin against my back
breaking the fall
the turning ...
the north wind shifts suddenly to the left of you
at 30 mph
the river
and all those copperline moments
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 


Wednesday, March 2, 2022


 a rainforest burst against the desert of my lips

              pressed & imprinted 
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


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 


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