Saturday, May 31, 2014


Song of a waterfall, sound of a bath,
hair, hand, face, lash, back, toes,

lingering dream of a pan on the stove,
shaker full of finely ground stone,

lovely each grain, a fairy tale road,
you looking back as all of it flows.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Canvas 391

Canvas 391

May 30, 2014


How sound comes to the wind chime,
just before you’re awakened
by the breeze
that stirs

how this
reminds you
of your mother’s clothesline,
taken from the dream that secures it.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Travel as far

I’ll travel as far as the train
that falls off the bridge into the palm of your hand,
because that’s the end of the journey
I was given to imagine,
and the moment
your dream

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


How, at dawn, you open your window
to let the spirits in,

and how they pause, like you,
at the far-off sound of a passing train,

then lead you out again.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Lobelia tells

Retaining wall or fairy tale,
mossy stone or throne,

Lobelia tells her children,
be kind to everyone.

Monday, May 26, 2014


I wonder now, was that a doily on her armchair,
or a snowflake on the dollhouse of a long-dead child?

Sunday, May 25, 2014

In and out of things unseen

Those mornings,
stunned by unremembered dreams,
the mind, through clouds and trees,
not at all unpleased, sailing,
in and out of things,

A hot air balloon, gasping,
dogs, barking, the sun, rising,

the sound of cackling hens
suddenly back again,

their words on the tip
of your tongue.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Canvas 390

Canvas 390

May 24, 2014

As any other day

How the tender maple,
shading the young bird’s grave,
says nothing to the cat,
walking away.

How the mail arrives,
as any other day.

How we mean much more,
than what we say.

How lovely death,
in its way.

How lovely life,
bidding us
to play.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Of clouds and crows

Of clouds, and crows, and memories of snow,
a paintbrush blooms in granite hills,
shivers her petals down.

As the mind goes,
the sky goes,



My thanks to Joneve McCormick, editor and publisher of Poets International, for including several of my recent poems in her site for contemporary poetry from around the world. A link to Poets International can also be found in the Reading Room.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

In a field wide

In a field as wide as your palm,
clover, one windmill,
marriages, births,

the morning chill,
a yield so bright, then gone.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Heaven’s own smell

Over the rise, past the cemetery,
through the orange grove in bloom,
on the Sunday morning side of the barn,
the old rusted car your uncle drove,
weeds through the floor board,
cracks in the wheel knob,
heaven’s own smell,
the slowest kind
of smoke.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

In a sky so still

In a sky so still, sparrows,
like steam from a kettle, or arrows,
that know where old gods go
when they fly.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Lilacs and apricots

The time in this kingdom
between lilacs and apricots,

when rainbows are bridges
and nights are cool,

when fate is as silent
as the tombs are still,

the throne is for children
to ascend at will.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Imagine your mind

Imagine, your mind,

until it imagines itself home,

raindrops on a silver coach,
clattering on stones,

a sign nailed on with flowers,
proprietor of a quaint hotel,

hand pump in the yard,
bower, bell,

a final end to war,

gentle hands to smooth
the bedsheets


Saturday, May 17, 2014

Among the irises

Among the irises,
your face, flowering.

In the stream,
your mask, drifting.

Friday, May 16, 2014


Such haste
to express ourselves,

when we are already the expression
of what we are trying,

with such effort,
to express,

while a star falls
into a lake of moonlight,

known only
to itself.

Thursday, May 15, 2014


The poem as journal entry,
the drawing as poem,

the day,

the dream,

the name,
a way

to say
the light is on.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Canvas 389

Canvas 389

May 14, 2014

How the voices

How the voices of so many birds
still your own,

how your own
stills theirs,

how, when all have flown,
the immortal song


Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Canvas 388

Canvas 388

May 13, 2014

Time out of mind

When the season takes a work of clay,
and holds it up to life,


when life takes the season away,
and keeps it for a time,


when mind takes the time away,
kneels with a sigh,


Monday, May 12, 2014

Morning prayer

The first cry

of child’s


that puts

the stars to flight

as Earth combs and braids her hair

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Canvas 387

Canvas 387

May 11, 2014

Until Done

Names long since
given way,

blue sky,

cooking stains,
bake at 325 degrees,

measuring cups,
cake pans,

green grass,

flour on the hill,
an hour to get there,


Saturday, May 10, 2014

As any king finds on his knees

The path, shaded, the wall, imagined,
and here, neath a mossy stone sacred to your vow,

unmoved till now, an unsung Easter new to tell,
of a child you knew so well, and have seen,

and will show, his heart and hand to soil,
his dreams a joyful caravan of mold,

each their smell rich as any king
finds on his knees,

your sturdy trowel,
his gardening.

Friday, May 9, 2014

How our old farm lives in dreams

How our old farm
lives in dreams,

how the fruit hangs low
from vines and trees,

how glad to meet
their ripening,

how sad and sweet

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Mourning cup

Above the rim
ocean on the counter

poised to scald
the sleeping

cliff dwellers
in coffee reign

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Sparrow in the cypress

Memory is a sparrow
in the cypress

when burial
is done,

there to hear,
here once gone.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Found, then turned around

The distance between thoughts;

ivy creeps amongst

the stones.

The distance between stones;

ivy creeps amongst

the thoughts.

Monday, May 5, 2014

How well you know

How well you know a place,
its clumsy doors and crooked streets;

how well you know yourself,
in lines so easily erased.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Canvas 386

Canvas 386

May 4, 2014

Canvas 385

Canvas 385

May 4, 2014

Before the mast

He rolls his memories and smokes them,

rakes them into piles to be burned,

likens them to seasons

(for all I know)


fragrant fields,

corn in rows,

gusted winds,

crooked toes


Grandpa, you’re here,

but when will you be home?

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Canvas 384

Canvas 384

May 3, 2014


See them as letters, rub them as stones,
free them as hours, already flown,

count them as rainbows,
seek them as roads,

love them as true friends,
still to be known.

Friday, May 2, 2014

In passing

One chair, one lap, one grandfather,
two boys, two books,

three voices,
six hands,

and four walls
to remember them.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Candles lit and burning green

Poplars, like candles lit and burning green,
for ghosts and barns by all not seen,

and a poor lone mountain,
nigh a fountain


is some,
but not all,

of what I mean
to show, of this road

I know as well as anything,
which turns away in a sparkling.