Friday, May 31, 2013

Thursday, May 30, 2013

A dream of running

A dream of running
not in fear

road the color
of a horned toad

back lots and car heaps
of a childhood town

porches and doors
framed by roses

wooden steps
paint peeling

a boy with a smile
on his lips

legs sore
greets the morning

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Evening walk, hushed and gray

Evening walk, hushed and gray,
scented bush mad with lavender stars,
prophet, yea, we believe you.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Live singing, sing dying

Live singing
sing dying

eyes closed
heart held

just so


May 28, 2013

[click to enlarge]

Monday, May 27, 2013

Rainbow ring around the sun

Rainbow ring around the sun
rain to come

loves his strawberries

take the road
where flowers grow

instead of flags
and guns

have you ever seen
such a dear sweet smile

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Coffee from a gift cup

Coffee from a gift cup
brought back from England years ago,
by a friend who loved Bleak House
and went to see where Dickens lived,

up, then down, and placed just so,
knowing he won’t ring or call,
still present as he is,

in a cloud

no further need of land

is how
this morning is.

Les Avantures de Telemaque, fils d’Ulysse

This beautiful volume, fragile in its cover
and published in 1751, is a gift from my eldest son
on the occasion of my fifty-seventh birthday.


Saturday, May 25, 2013

Pollen, swept up in a cloud

Pollen, swept up in a cloud,
crosses the road.

A kingdom of cemeteries,
seed fields, homes.

Sudden rain;
a fairy tale.

A newborn licked clean
with her tongue.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

A flower now

More than anything lately, this blog has been a journal. As for the poems themselves, I worry little of their value beyond the pleasure they bring the writer, and those who find them. None have taken more than a few minutes to write. I am not trying to do anything. They are simply an expression of the joy and pain I might be feeling upon being granted another day. All have been written early in the morning, coffee or tea beside me, with daylight coming on. Joy or pain — almost always a mixture of both — and usually I would be hard pressed to distinguish between them. And hearing that, those who have known me for a while are sure to smile. A hopeless case, I know. And now I am smiling.

I’ve had an interesting, wonderful feeling lately. I feel as if my mind is finally grasping something my heart has known for a long, long time. A couple of days ago, I was for many hours as emotional as a child. The past was present in more beautiful ways than I have ever known, as if there were no longer need to go back anymore. The need to strive is gone. I am a flower now. I survive and thrive by instinct rather than will.

However long it takes to come, death is instantaneous. More acutely than ever, I am aware that each moment might be my last. Knowing this, how foolish I would be to go on trying to establish or prove my importance. Such a waste of energy and breath. I am a flower now. And so, beware the bee that flies up your nose.

Sown, strewn, or blown

Sown, strewn,
or blown,

stars find
this farmer’s son.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

This body is my face

This body is my face,
said the mind.

This mind seeks grace,
the body replied.

Monday, May 20, 2013

And the dreamer

And the dreamer said

at birth


a lifetime
of reminders

and quietly passed away

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Pity words

Pity words,
because the right ones
fear us most.

Today, a flower
in your hair,

that truth
declare itself.

Friday, May 17, 2013

You said you must be going

You said you must be going
as if here were of a certain size or place
or time, and proof lay in your absence,

which now, dear friend,
is mine.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

As many worlds

As many worlds
as beings to perceive

as many beings
to conceive

of grief
on the departure

of worlds
as real

as any

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Imagine a dream

Imagine a dream that lasts a lifetime.
Then, look up at the sky.

A sigh, a cry, and gone.

The ground you stood upon.
The wind that finds your bones.

A moan, a groan, a song.

A remedy for war?
Is your dream of love?

Does it still go on?

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Mother is a ripe round mirror

Mother is a ripe round mirror
child is a sky so near
their lives are passing clouds

Friday, May 10, 2013

First came the meanings

First came the meanings
then their names


supper table

the boy himself
a pebble down a well

loving the hand that let him go

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Little blue flowers

Little blue flowers
in the lawn


to little ones

with bare feet
out in the world.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Monday, May 6, 2013

Sunday, May 5, 2013


What little in the hand
that holds so little
in the heart,

that little grant
such grace to praise
the greatness of the hurt.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

If light is as light must will

If light is as light must will,
that once conceived must have its fill,

is right to dream of aught or else
so dark to be denied

as any thing that falls,
save night?

Friday, May 3, 2013

Maple says to sun

Maple says to sun,
Did you sleep as well as I?

Sun replies,
They were lonely hours.

Thursday, May 2, 2013


As the last dream fades
of cliffs and trains

the fat worm feeds
a hungry robin.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013