from a thatch
of bamboo

burst a cardinal blurred
so rushed in red

above the creek
the heron pendulumed

         back and
forth

its shadow
an old code

grains
of sun

untied laces
of snow

urgent shadows
of birds

perfect shards
of stars

they are parceled out
in increments

of wonder
divvied up

in morsels
of joy

great mechanical animals wake
and warm to the new light  

giant silver birds roar the sky
and pull above the cold grey of it

the final clip of the moon
is pushed aside by the rising sun

a crow kicks the snow free from the needles
and dusts down the pine boughs

at dusk just below the tree line
deer by the dozen hunger for spring

it is without question or concern
that night moves quietly into place

we keep in motion
across the known
the unknown

we work the beauty
bountiful
and unfinished

green whisks of sea
and brooms of foam

sweep smooth the sand
of broken spokes of starfish sticks

of seaweed
and bleached sand dollars


common notes of the ocean throated by the wind


just beyond the wake of the boat
she rose grey green in the morning light

and slid beneath the dark water
she broke the surface twice more

before the boat’s pull
and her own power

put her at a distance
from me

grey the low rumbling of early morning thunder
the heavy scent of rain and magnolia
however the calling of the crows declare that no storm will arrive

a doe stood silently
we watched each other with mutual curiosity
later i would come across another
holding out my hand she approached a few tentative steps
but stopped and quickly turned away

blueredgrey
bluejaycardinalheron

moss covered and motionless a turtle sat sunning on a log
a black snake freshly dead on the side of the road
its brilliant body already blunting in the afternoon sun

the gloaming shadows reached across
in ripples swallows and swifts scooped the surface of the pond
readying themselves for night the geese made their way to the center of the pond

the spin of a planet
the nudge of a glacier

the push of a wing
the blink of an eye

light whispers hello
goodbye

grey tore
at the shore

and whitecapped
each wave

save
for the few

that tapped
my shoe

each gull
bentwinged dull

feathered sang of the sea
and of you

to me

growling
in the distance

dark plumes
untent

ruffling
the color

of the sea


           out
side
                 in in
side
          out


whenfearshakes
thebreathfromourlungs

whenpoisonmeasures
toomu­chintheblood

                                                          how do we
                                                                  return
                                                            to center?

                                                          how do we
                                                                  renew
                                                               beauty?

here    hear
is (w) here

          the       the
          ear       ear
          th m    th m
          ove      ove
          s

           here    hear
is (w) here

          the       the
          cro       cro
          w&c    w&c
          ica        ica
          d ca     d ca
          all        all

           here    hear
is (w) here

           the      the
           ski       ski
           es        es
           kis       kis
           s co     s co
           lli        lli
           de       de

he sweeps
the dead

leaves
into little piles

it is a simple task
but he is very old

and this light labor
exhausts him

) side                              to                                             side(
          ( in h is h and s )     ( a b am b oo m broo m )

what will you do
with your string

of time?
the slow notes

of motion
the blood-red bells

of heartbeat?
how will you measure

the fire
and surprise

of silence?

hovering
between two languages

light’s decay
must choose

its words
carefully

growling
in the distance

dark plumes
ruffle

the color
of the sea

out       side         in         in         side        out

when fear shakes
the breath from our lungs

when poison measures
too much

in the blood
how do we

return to center?
how do we

renew beauty?

i am humbled
by calder’s wires

by the music
miles monk

and mingus made
by the impastos

of van gogh
and van rysselberghe

by rodin’s
le secret

listen

the snow pillows
upon the pines

listen

the river breathes
across summer stones

it is all
one tongue
one language

there is
a reason
for this

i am the only one here
and i stand in your place

occupy your shadow
the sun on my face

is your sun
the breath i breathe

is your breath
overhead kites of birds spin

tethered to earth by invisible strings
tonight the sky will blaze with stars

they will be your stars
the moon almost complete

will be your moon
i will be the only one there

standing in your place

i did not know the word for it
so i called out to the man

who was approaching with his dog
sumimasen abunai onigaishimasu

it was

green
be
yond
green
grace
ful
be
yond
grace
ful
per
fect
be
­yond
per
fect

i felt no fear
as the snake moved toward me

beside me
i walked with it

and saw it to the hole in the gutter
it climbed down calmly and went on its way

i still look for it
but have not seen it since

i fear something in this world
found it

and did not understand
such beauty

i do not believe
in ghosts

but i am cordial to them nonetheless

i do not believe
in god

but from time to time i wonder how she is doing

i do not believe
in heaven

but i am curious as to what might be on the other side of this door

i do not believe
in hell

but just in case i mind my manners

i do not believe
in the beatles

well actually i do and they are definitely better than the rolling stones

i do not believe
in ghosts

but i am cordial to them nonetheless

i do not believe
in god

but from time to time i wonder how she is doing

i do not believe
in heaven

but i am curious as to what might be on the either side of this door

i do not believe
in the hell

but just in case i mind my manners

i do not believe
in the beatles

well actually i do and they are definitely better than the rolling stones

i fly
through the clouds
of my mother’s lungs

untouched
by the sun
or the moon

i walk
through the forest
of my mother’s lungs

lost
in its great shadows

i swim
through the caves
of my mother’s lungs

the rising tides
drowning out
all pockets
of air

i have grown used to the moon
early each morning
waiting there above me

ever growing ever receding
for weeks now
the skies have been perfectly blue

first light prismed in slight violet
lingering just before the breach
of the horizon line

at night the stars
and planets
pierce with warm purpose

a world away
the wolves sing
in the dark woods

a world away
the whales sing
in the deep waters

a world away
we sing
to the ancient music of fire

i have never witnessed their dawn departures
or joined in their preparations

what the taste of wind might tell
what clues the clouds or the sea reveal

but each time i wake and notice the boat gone
i keep an anxious eye to the horizon

i have watched their return enough times to now know
how to position the heavy plastic tubes in the wet sand

how to hold the bow perpendicular to the shore
to the keep the waves from washing in

where to place my hands
and the exact angle needed to lift and leverage the boat

rolling it onto the tubes
and then up the sharp incline of the beach

i have learned
how to help

so much so that two of the pescadores
now smile clap me on the back

and say
la próxima vez que vengas con nosotros

i like most things


the green feathers
of the parrots

a thousand shingles
of autumn light

long rugs
of snow


                                              i
                                              like most things
                                              will only be here


for that pullpush
of breath

the briefest brush
of the sun

a tremble
of rain

impossibly balanced
and beautiful

a siege
of white herons

came to rest
atop the boughs

of summer trees
every now

and again
one would depart

or arrive
the whole of its body

folding un
folding

taking to the blue
or landing brightly

on the green sway
of each giving branch

is that it?
the obvious secret?

the easy give
and take

of simply walking away
upon the wind?

inbe      t      ween
here      t       here

con(dis)
(so)so
nance(nance)

what we love
what we do not

under stand
stand under

tangled in so many strings crow black in color comfort chaos

are always are always
options
d i  s   s    o      l       v        i          n           g

in
new
light

in between the seam
of day

and evening
the entirety of the sky

and the november leaves
cinder in the same glow

the streets
and sidewalks are stained

with autumn impastos
in our arc

we wax
and wane

the many moons
our course permanently burnt

with the colors
of departure

and return
soon

in winter’s patient keep
we will close our eyes

and fill our dreams
with release

in the corn
                   er of

an autumn field
i found

the body
of a fox

(it was the kind of storm all weathermen wait for)
)repetitious ripples of dappleddoppler(
(within an hour all was scoured whitesmooth and silent)

spring will
un

     lock
the land

open
the body

in the early hours
when you

set
upon a quiet house

now the morning
cracked

and screaming
now the weight

of so many words
now the smudge

the sun makes
and when at last

we catch cathedral
let us release you

to a bolt
of blue sky

in the early hours
when you

left our bed
to set upon

a quiet house
now

the sky
cracked

and screaming
now

the weight
of so many words

now
the smudge

the sun makes
and when

at last
we catch cathedral

let us
release you

to a bolt
of blue sky

in the end)

time& tide                 salt water
whisper                     stars upon
all away                     the skin

blood& bone             the order
bubble                        of things
with lifelight             the mystery  
                                    of things


a moon white silent


in the dark closet of dreams
shape & shadow speak in tongues chanting
we gather the ghost slow the circles
we ember around the sun

i am                                        alone
i am                 not                 alone

(in the beginning

in the evening


we breathed blue
a spectacle
of heaven reckless
the violence
of light
sticks
and stones
from the deepest room

                                 we wake to the wonder that wears us

from the ancient strand
keys
and locks
the pendulum
of planets
of time stretching
a sorrow
we seethed green


in the morning

in the fields
the hay

has been cut
and dried

the final sunflowers list
and fade

to the west
a line

of aspen trees
sigh

at the touch
of october light

two crows
call out

and hold their own
against the hawk

how will you journey
out of this life?

how will you find
that brief dark door?

what will your music
sound like?

in the little
of the morning

red flags
are already raised

the sounding wind moves
through the trees

unsettling
loose leaves

the horizon slides darker
stitched black

with lightning
bruised blue

with pummels
of thunder

first drops blink
on the dry ground

haloing
in the sand

all this
just before

the world
shrieks

and sighs

in the little
of the morning

red flag raised
and sounding

the air
cool moving

through
the trees

unsettles
loose leaves

the horizon
slides closer

stitched black
with lightening

bruised blue
with pummels

of thunder
first drops

blink dark
the dry ground

haloing
in the sand

before the world
shrieks

and sighs

in the mango tree
across the street

a prattle of parrots
most evenings meet

to chew the fat
and the mango sweet

with a secret cue
they screech away

then circle back
as if to say

this was the best
part of your day

in the mango tree
across the street

a prattle of parrots
most evenings meet

to chew the fat
and the mango sweet

with a secret cue
they screech away

then circle back
as if to say

this was the best
part of your day

i once went out over a body of water

well beyond the strand
and the break in the reef

pushed and pulled by the tide, i drifted above crowns of coral
and deep pools of bluegreen

floating there i saw a shadow flash beneath me

a blade that circled and circled

in a blink                   retreating
in a blink                   advancing before finally disappearing

for months i returned to that very same spot
with the hope of seeing the manta ray

to marvel at the speed
and ease of that black kite of a body

what is it
that agitates

the complacency
the curiosity

of your life?

what is it
that shakes

you awake
with the need

to hold hands
with beauty

and danger?

i pedal predawn streets
yellow globes
of lampglow

along the canals
dark the windows
and doors

so           me
ti            me
s                  birdsong and brightness

so           me
ti            me
s                  the pendulum of stars and moon

so           me
ti            me
s                  such a hiss and spit of rain

so           me
ti            me
s                  thewindandthewindandthewindandthewind

every corner
gathers its ghosts

reminding us
the living

to live

i remember me



                                                                stars cold
                                           in their constellations

                                                                dull colors
                                           windkicked into corners

                                                                one shadow walking
                                          with each hand empty




                                                                                                without you

i sense


by a window
watching the streets the bridge below


                                                                                                         someone


horizon-eyed
at the water’s edge


                                                                                                       beside me


in the cooled silence
of your forest


                                                                                               but i am alone

i sit the seed
beneath me

just now born
of a blue

never before hued
the teeth

and tongue
of it

we spin
the space

bird song
and winged

meanwhile
the infinite shrugs

her shoulders
and drifts back

to sleep

isn't it enough that the wind
makes tumbles of the umbrellas

that dark staccato notes of rain
strike with such force that we pause
  
our busy little lives and marvel at it?
isn't it enough that the very next moment

the sky turns so impossibly blue
that we remember we all have wings?

it came slowly out
of the switchgrass

and weeds
plodding

reptilian black
against the light brown dust

of the bike trail
i rode up to it

two feet long at least
from head to tail

so think skinned
and heavy

and that menace
of a mouth

we quietly eyed each other
before the snapping turtle

rambled
down the embankment

and slide
into the dark water

of the canal

we still        behold the ancient
                     gaze at the wonders of heaven
                     marvel at what the past holds up to her mirror

it does not have to be

a blind recital
of words

or memorized notes
of music

it does not have to be

water stepping
over stones

wind weaving
through the trees

or snow collecting silence
in the fields

it does not have to be

any of these things
just as long as it comes

from that part of you
that understands

your tiny place
in the beautiful infinite

it has been a year
since i last walked the trail

so much of it now is overgrown
with summer vines briars wild grass and the lack of foot traffic

i was familiar enough with the way
and could follow along with the low river

i recognized the elbow of it
where the shadow of the heron flew

i remembered where the deer tended to settle in the blue shade
where the rabbits scurried into the brambles

much has changed in a year
or so the keepers of such measurements might say

it is only the stones who laugh at such peculiarities
it is only the blue of the sky who shakes her head and thinks

why are you still so in love
with the sound of your own voice?

it has been grey for days
the crack

and scatter
of a concrete sky

the brittle air
the rubble

and rub
that dulls everything

beautiful bird
beware of things

that clip
and cut your wings

it has been one revolution
around the sun
since you became the sun

it has been four sweeps
of the seasons
since you became the seasons

it has been twelve months
of moons
since you became the moon

it has been without measure
since you became

it is a conversation
between


rain and roof
stream and stones
snow and silence
wind and wing
the unfurling yellow flower and the slightest crack in the pavement


it is a conversation
between


mystery and wonder
and it must always be so

it is autumn here
where warm rain falls
instead of bright hokkaido leaves
i do not prefer one mystery to the other
as both hold equal measure

this evening
miles out at sea
ribbons of lightning shred
beneath the ribs of a thunderhead

within the hour
the storm had tiptoed off the horizon
all those around me
distracted by more mundane things
were none the wiser


but let me ask you this


when was the last time beauty
stopped you in your tracks
laughed at your silly deeds and demands?

when was the last time beauty
took in her gentle hands
and shook you all to pieces?