we are losing in a gulag
of our choosing

the un-predict-
ability of liberty

an extraordinarily poor
rendition of a system

where oaken-ed cloaked
murderous crows caw foul

jumping at every
shadow of a shadow of

a shadow nears to turn to turn
to turn the clock back years

election day is tuesday
- rue the day sweet liberty.

r ~ 11/1/14

*much at stake

snow comes early this year
in southern climes

- records broken


radio man talks
of a warming globe

- a broken record


seas have risen
many, many times
and frozen, too

- in southern climes


have I shown you
my wooly mammoth tooth?

it's very old.

r ~ 11/1/14

time -
such care in counting
the essence of

measured twice
- cut once
if wisely

a hole in a rock -
an atomic clock
ticking tocks

aligned in space
light years and dog years
- lines on a face

a living will -
a fleeting baby's smell

- shadows weighed
at the end of the day

darkening sky
drawing nigh -
palms high

- it is time.

r ~ 11/4/14

i see a fire in the sky above the pines
on the side of the house
this early morning

and on the front
the water is burning -
burning

i used to go to work in the dark
before the time changed - affirming
and conforming

the radio man recites last night's results -
a new day has dawned
- it will be long and disconcerting

there is a fire in the sky above the pines -
and on the front
the water is burning

- burning.

r ~ 11/5/14

your boot was turned the wrong way
on the post out by the highway
- sharp toe pointing to the south
away from where you've been

you're no stranger to the rangers
living dangerously on the edge
- sidewinders in the sagebrush
whispering to the wind

the anasazi built this home
stacking stone one by one
- far above the canyon
of petroglyphs and wrens

i knew i'd find you by the fire
talking to the ghosts of smoke and drum
- in the ruins above the dunes
reminiscing with your friends

- reminiscing, reminiscing
on the blue mesa.

r ~ 11/6/14

This is what I imagine it feels like
To be a tree, blossoming in Spring
Watching its fruits and flowers
Become vitality
This is what I imagine you feel like
To be an azure river, arduous journeys
Until you reach your delta, knowing soon
You will become, once again, part of your ocean
This is what I imagine it's like
To be the cloud, billowing as it gets darker
Knowing soon, it will be a part of its earth again
Natural cyclic routines
Bring more beauty than we can dream

Words carve feathered, crude,
Beautiful walkways
For each witty and farcical bon mot
Spoken as though your mind turned
For each cleansing reflection
Gazing through the pristine waters
For each sparkling moment
Of escaping what is the most sought-after mundanity
Words are windows
Fitting perfectly into the frames for which they were designed
Yet possessing the capability to open
To the ever-whooshing excitement
If words are an inspiration
Why am I left speechless