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 


two-step towards the street 

quick step quick step slow step 


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 


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



great horned owls 

laughter times truth 


rhymes and pink chalk lines 

red bird songs

the color blue 





bubble gum notes 

small hands close

maples & oaks 

heart's entreaty 


feathers & things 

all flying things 

dog's breath & kisses 

sorrow's bursting epistle 

what fools who travel 

this path 

fates fancy dash 


tight-rope balance 

high-flying kites 

forests & rivers 

time moves so fast 

buckled in 

yet groundless 



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 





    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   



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 


prairie state 

this simple street 

in a simple town 


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 


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 


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 



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 
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
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
here in this field under stardust & mist
eyes closed to hold tight this vestige of sensation
eyes open to welcome the electric vibration
in the vastness of wide open night
pierced & gifted with one promise bright
untangle the thread
smell the coming of rain
lay down in tall grass 


Monday, April 11, 2022

victorious moon

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


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
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 


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 



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 


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?


Friday, April 8, 2022

april sparrow




fly! fly! try! fly! 

alight!  no ... not here 



a branch birch white 


grasp grasp grasp release 

let go 


small am i against the clear blue 

sky bright 

a branch down there appears bare 


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



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 



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 ....