Riding on the wind

A pelican rises - stalls

Spots the fish and dives

The beauty of life

(of the light and its shadows)

Is that it persists

 A train in the night

Hastens into a tunnel

Dark such as darkness

 Can we do without

Abstractions that visit dreams

Illusions are real

 

To a horned lizard:

You needn't transform to stone

I will not touch you

 They are multitudes

Small - busy - mostly quiet

Insects surround us

 A breeze happens by

Brushes against my shoulder

And whispers something

 For all this wonder

Of the ages uncounted

There must be children

 The revolutions

Fire - wind - coal - oil - data

Will we be disused

 Temple overgrown

Stone eyes gaze into the past

Monkeys scream at night

My dog lies by me

 She puts her head on my floot

So I will stay here

 A dry summer trail

The grassses and moss are grey

Everything wants rain

 I will fly no flag

Nothing to hang slack or flap

My staff will be bare

 You will never know

Unless you open the door

What's inside or out

 Mississippi town

Where you can't find a stranger

People nod and smile

 A moth on the sill

Dry depleted and expired

Relief was outside

 Here's the troubling part

The key to our election

Might be Taylor Swift

Shielded from their eyes

Privilege as privacy

Secure but alone

Eventually

It will be a one lane road

That takes you back home

 Whatever I know

I sure don't know about cats

They don't seem to care

 Summer sun is high

Even the fish are sweating

Dogs under the porch

 Sometimes I’m a goat

A buck chewing old stories 

Calm and ruminant

A quick chuckwalla

With its carrot tail blazing 

Darts under a rock

I dream in cursive

With all the stories conjoined

No spaces between 

 Dreams are not fiction

As our waking makes them seem

Neither is more true

 Sun under the clouds

A good day for a rainbow

Storm shaped in colors

 Of all the bad lies

The best are mostly the truth

What folks want to think

Might it be better

If we all had tails - like dogs

Because tails don't lie

 Beware of desire

When the fates want to punish

They answer our prayers

  In a torch-lit cave

A charnel of ancestors

Pictographs above

 in the thin twilight

a loving voice gives comfort

mother's lullaby

 Leaning on the wall

He grins like we've met before

With a nod - Hey now

 You will not see it

With furtive power and grace

The cougar lunges

 As butterflies know

A best path need not be straight

Fortune is random

 Which concerns you more 

The visions from yesterday

Or those imagined

 Seven dappled eggs

Safely in a shaded nest

Chicks will soon emerge

 Salubrious spring!

Tonic for winter's repose

Huzzah for the season!

 A mother quail broods

Her duty greater than fear

She just stares at me

 His nervous lawyers

With more at stake than he has

Lose and he won't pay

 The migrant ospreys

Homeward bound to their aerie

Still there on the snag

 What is more fetching

Than a dog bounding your way

A stick in its mouth?

 Three laughing maidens

Run from the apple orchard

Aprons filled with fruit

 Busy with its worms

Does the robin know itself 

Or measure success

 as i turn a page

in the book of surprises

a chill goes through me

 The folly of speed

Always to arrive sooner

There instead of here

 Gladly of service

Aided by spring's warm increase

I will cultivate

A crow's eye flashes

It knows more of usefulness

Than man has ever

He has placed a gift

Secretly at her doorstep

Will she open it

 Error to error

Brings us closer to answers

But truth no hither 

Tangy - sweet - smoky

You just can’t hurry the blues

Slow as barbecue 

 a restless morning

dreams stumble into the day

a wan moon lingers

 Comparison's child

Suckled at envy's long breast

Never contented

 May is a maiden

Winsome when she is in bloom

Beckoning our gaze

Play now for me Spring

Make tunes of hope and color

Morning birds will join

Uncalculated

I remain to be pointless 

No circumference

 Spring busies itself 

With bees and birds and breezes

Open the windows

Don’t wait for poems

It’s hard to write while sitting

Find them on a walk

 How peaceful the day

When I answered no questions

Relief in the vague

With no roofs or walls

650,000

They’re not criminals

When at my clearest

Still - at the common level

I am like water

 What I now wonder

When did I become so small

Merely but gladly

 What of life weighs more

However ephemeral

Dreams or the waking

freed of three conceits 

now disabused of oneself

to be without me

The three conceits are to think you are more than someone, 

less than someone, or the same as someone.    

 Springtime is green first

Even blooms are verdant-cased

All is young and glad

 Kneeling - as to pray

With tender care I plant this

Faith grows eternal

 What is ultimate

That surges and decreases

Death once dead - what then

 Spring’s invitation

To all that would be renewed

Join the jubilee

 Stayin' out all night

Hopin' blues will go away

Too late to regret

he knew as he spoke

it was all said for himself

the words tailed away

 It's never too late

To catch the rhythm of blues

Get down side of life

 Memories so sweet

When it all seemed so simple

One more day away

 When she put him out

Like a dog in the cold night

Lyin’ at the door

 Do we love perforce?

Are we meant for this nonesuch?

Do we have a choice?

My dearest assured

I will build you a bower

Refulgent with love

Fluffy chicks of spring

Bathing in the warmth of youth

Follow mother's path

 shadow of the moon

proof on our most modest speck

the stars are always

 My thanks for the storm 

The rain - soil - worms - seeds - and grass

All things natural

 already the past

what you think is now is not

when you live too fast

 The tree decided 

Feeling warm, glad, and sated

It burst into yellow

 Sooner or later

I will surely lose lose my mind

And find something more

Fearlessly hiding

 Where nobody will snatch me

My fortress of thorns

 

Rain interrupted

The saguaro has its sip

A new drop begins

 Peace in wandering

Every stride is a journey

Each a new frontier

 The ice thaws and cracks

Calmly the river begins

Winter drifts downstream

 Guadalajara

Sweet jasmine climbs up the wall

Mariachis play

 I am yin and yang

Sometimes one or the other

Better both at once

 Hasty daffodils

 A delicate glimpse of spring

As our youth - too brief

 I have forgotten

Birthdays and dreams and names

But seldom a song

 Spring never dies

Its progeny is summer

Bud to bright issue

 he sits on a box

with pen and pad - dog beside

verse for the asking

 A quail tips it’s head

Full-throated - it sends a call

The banter begins

 With little in hand

And some to share with others

Enough is a feast

Swirling gracefulness

The music becomes her form

She dances out loud

 On a wave-drenched rock

A seabird raises its wings

Plying wind to rise

Instinctive design

Geometry of the hive

Perfect without plan

 Of pulse and power

I am made of the many

Of quiet and calm

 Where can they find peace

Compassed by the ghetto walls

Nothing left of home

The oxymoron

Of indecent exposure

We’re born without shame

 To be told one must

When there are so many ways

And none is more true

When nectar is spent

 The sound of petals falling

Announces the fruit

a quail’s threefold song

as the day begins to warm

another responds

Invisible wall

That faith cannot penetrate

No ladders or gates

in orotund voice

the mockingbird wakes the day

then the finches join

There's true excitement

When the circus comes to town

Shall we run away?

 Spring is a tunesmith

You can tell by how birds sing

New glee in their songs

 why would i dismay

when there is no remedy

or when there is one

without the heavens

the lake would have no color

clouds nowhere to sail

 

A curtain of thin clouds

The moon rests on her cool back

An owl sends four hoots

despite our penchants

 we're more same than different

more one than many

 in my prior life

before my lungs and mind filled

just mother's heartbeat

herded to the verge

refugees in their homeland

aggrieved and denied

 nothing from anger

or pride or envy or greed

that would be perfect

 at the edge of land

the incessant sea crashes

salt wind in my face

 of all becoming

i trust possibility

the beauty of chance

 the hungry children

[huddled in silence and fear]

are too weak to cry

 a dew so heavy

the ferns bow their backs and weep

as though in mourning

as i am now gray

 i rest below an old tree

its shade gives comfort

from a chrysalis

 this shining songless flutter

wanders bloom to bloom

 blessedly last fall

among the lupine and grass

poppies sowed themselves

why explain the moon 

or touch something so perfect

leave it quiescent

 we are born gentle

limpid - guiltless - wonder filled

unable to hate

 winter is melting

soil softens - roots are quickened

the birds will soon come

 they stand at the wall

their lives are oceans behind

hope waits just beyond

 A seed hitched a ride

In the belly of a snake

Got out, in the end

 from shape-shifted dunes

a gust sends grains aloft

beyond the far crest

It is simple, right?

So how much of this was meant?

Explain that to me

 Twenty-six letters

Ten digits and some symbols 

Stories measureless

 In cold marble walls

Relics numbered and displayed

Possessed but not owned

 some life needs little

a crack where seeds can take root

and blessings of rain

 Those who are wary

Must have their eyes on the sides

Those who prey - forward

 There's a time of day

When all flowers burn at once

Their colors depthless

From A Chipmunk 

I must make a hole

Where the hawks and coyotes

Cannot get to me

If not for evil

Would there be reason for good

Or birth without death

There is no limit

This sheer immaculate day

Boundless in beauty

 sweet seeping nectar

gleaned and brewed by constant bees

to ageless honey

 a glaucous-winged storm

swept inland from the ocean

and the land was cleansed

this we can concede

 the past is arguable

but future is not

 the first frail flowers

specks of spring in the desert

delicately white

in dawn's first light

the stars appear to tremble

in awe of the day

 Gila Woodpecker

Smartly dressed in a striped suit

And jaunty red cap

 How high is your sky?

Mine begins at my boot soles

And goes forever

 a cool winter rain

ocotillos give green thanks

crimson-tipped and glad

 a single blade of grass

one of countless in the field

joins soil and the sky

 When the way has changed

When adversity presents

Where would water flow?

Consigned to the flow 

In the cold current of night

Dreams stir in eddies

 beautiful tension

the drop just before it falls

increasing - then plop!

 beyond what we see

perpetual and certain

new waves are forming

 unpretentiousness

all praise to the common folk

and their humble kind

 each day at twilight

calls for assembly go out

quail roost in the tree

what resides within

abides richly chromatic

beneath time's varnish

 She speaks so little

labored words come haltingly

but o when she sings!

  how i wept for it

the giant suffocated

skinned and dismembered

 through an old window

the imperfect glass distorts

to see but not know

 amid this vastness

with all connected creatures

each has its own world

in a gentle rain

the day remits and lingers

whist simplicity

ably protean 

flowing - frozen - vaporized

water will concede

On seeing a flock

 sixty house finches

more or less - what use to count

feed on winter's seeds

delicate hoarfrost 

melts with noon's apricity 

rain forms on bare limbs

the winds will foretell

when the violence is nigh

trees will bend in fear

 The light that we see

Born of primordial stars

Already expired

 Umwelt

each creature its own

vision - smell - hearing and touch

as much as it needs

 With each of my steps

The perpetual passage

Am I near or far

 A dusty attic

Where the old things are consigned

Bygone yet still dear

in this we're common

whenever and anywhere

 we all come from blooms

  pure light of a star

spans across space for eons

impeded by earth

 Don't count them as lost

Those things you don't remember

They remember you

 a covey of quail

do they chuckle about me

as they scoot away

 a hero's pursuit

across vast and foreign lands

in search of his lot

 the three-legged dog

knows nothing of our pity

as she wags her tail

 equanimous cat

crouches in the tall dry grass

the mouse had no chance

the rewarding part

whatever i've learned and lost 

i am still in school

 we the incautious

see what we've done to the sky

that hangs so heavy

consider what lies 

at the center of your map

you or somewhere else

 hunting raspberries

where the sun and rain are right

swelling until sweet

 Morning in the woods

Barren - quiet - hibernal

A gray fox leaves tracks

 2023

Pleading eyes of the outcast

Where will they find grace?

 a post in the sand

to mark the surge of the storm

a gull lands and calls

 In our history

When were we last satisfied

When - humankind - when

like an earthen bowl

 our emptiness has purpose

ready for life's stew

penetrant and thick 

cold uncompromising waves

sea eats at the cliff

here is the matter

how could one with thoughts so brave

be so meek in life

Join this holiday

Circle your table with cheer

Together - Wassail!

 I will depart here

To follow the river up

Toward its wellspring

 the good health of rain

sends blessings in multitudes

each drop a comfort

 could we be as birds

commending ourselves to dawn

with flutters and song

 The winter solstice

Effects the year's longest night

And largest shadows

 a fissure in rock

where water seeps and freezes

cleaving it apart

 something from nowhere

bold and unpredictable

sure uncertainty

 unrelenting will

water will make smooth the stone

waves will form and fall

 

My true self resides

Somewhere beyond ideas

Ineffable me

 Framed by auburn curls

Eyes green as summer's new grass

Smile full and joyful

 today all seems new 

i will live this day gently

and aspire no more

 I believe in rain

These grey and hardscrabble banks

Will flower again

 lichen is patient

nourished only by the air

quietly brilliant

 belied by their size

hummingbirds are swift and fierce

the garden's swordsmen

spirits in trenchcoats

skulking in shadowed alleys

steal into my sleep

Born green and tender

Supple - grateful for the sun

A sprout of wonder

 to follow the way

accept beauty wherever

the light and the dark

 of all constancy

the fall of waves on the shore

gives comfort to doubt

I smashed my finger

It was dreadful - then I saw

A forested lake

 

 so pure is this sky

could i climb its laddered clouds

stars would be too near

 Hoary Spanish moss

Still sodden from the night's fog

Like an old man's beard

 O generations!

The bloom is mother to seeds

That bourgeon henceforth

This crux of my life

 I was not born for myself

But for something more

 The rain came last night

I will go to the desert

Where soil awakens

 When you have the choice

Of luxury or comfort

Choose the simpler way

A spiraling shell 

Intoned of faraway seas

Ready and ceaseless

 Even for the least

No thanks are misbegotten

To give enriches

 Do not heed the doubts

Head straight into the welter

There is peace beyond

The dry grain of grass 

Has no anticipation

The birds stop to feed

 Water won't resist

It finds the lowest places

To rest and to wait

 The way is entire

Unintended and nameless

Unwanting and clear

 To hold and not own

To do more with less effort

To give without care

Tendered in good cheer

 Through frosty light of autumn

The warm hand of thanks

 To loaf at one's ease

To know that much of what's done

Might be better spared

When you walk alone 

Expect nothing of the gods

Find peace with yourself

wonder of  the seeds

dry and light - they surrender

revenant in spring

There are small secrets 

What the birds know of the dawn

And satisfaction

 Modest and constant

I’m proud that they are my friends

With them I am safe

 Winter is quiet

So many have left - or sleep

Even trees are hushed

November morning 

A thin mist up the meadow

As if it exhaled

 all that i have said

has the weight of softest down

easily aloft

 To know the person

To apprehend their nature

Play a game with them

 Pavement turns to dirt

Then narrows to a footpath

That finds a still pond

Crouched without shelter

The night has an icy heart

Dawn will be coldest

 When persecuted

Become the prosecutors

Intolerance reigns 

 an owl on the snag

outspread eyes search for a kill

silently - it swoops

 There's much to be found

In the spaces between words

We hear with our hearts

 Alms of the desert

Songs of bandit coyotes

Circumspect quail

 Of gods - tears - and dreams

Who would try to account them

There are too many

i can almost feel

 (a moonless november sky)

the spin of the stars

 Pale - withered - brittle

Sapped by a searing summer

The desert bides time

 What’s the need for time

When we have the sun and spin

Seasons understand

My dear handsome child

You have no words for your woe

Cry but do not weep

 

What I know - and feel

Life is not same as living

Nor death as dying

 My mind is empty

We all love differently

But my heart is full

 Vampires - bats - leeches!

Enough to cause you nightmares

How sanguiverous!

 A naked canvas

Line and light - color and space

Source of the design

 Sun-worn and weary

To be known with such pity

They wait for a meal

 

The gifts of aspen

As alluring on the ground

As they were aloft

fruit - seeds - cones and leaves 

summer sheds its rich bounty

compost for the spring

 a gentle commerce

september bids to august

summer paid in fall

from the north to south

we are all americans

sing across frontiers

 I will walk beside

Do not doubt the way we take

We are always home

Colors of the song

Dances of celebration

Skirts in whorls of joy

When the acorns fall

Squirrels are fast to take them

The oaks wax golden

 Three elegant deer

It is too warm to move south

They stop - prance away

Those which make no sense

Love - dreams - the sure source of tears 

Seem perfect to me

 While we were sleeping

The sky was filled with migrants

Bound for balmy climes

 Nothing fills my sail

Like a gust of poetry

Prosody in flight!

with the summer spent

 autumn is a renewal

of harvest and rut

 

Sisyphus Saved

A spider in the sink

Too steep - too slick - it slides back

I took it outside

unutterable

 the canyon invites no words

or comparison

 Now the crescent sun

Carved to a thin slice of light

By a pallid moon

 the ecliptic wheel

turns at the will of the stars

bearing night from day

 With such urgency

The celerity of the squirrels

Foretells winter’s hand

 Lambent maple tree

Made stunning by autumn’s chill

Ready to send its rain

 I prefer quiet

Except wind - water - and birds 

And music of course

 

Summer's profusion

Clings faithfully to cold limbs

Flames in autumn sun

 O to be a duck!

I can already waddle

But to fly and plunge!

 If you would find me

Search in the garden's rich soil

Amid roots and worms

 As I sleep - I dig

Bones of shrouded days exhumed

Fossils of my life

The day's single star

The multitudes of  the night

All spread superbly

No matter the dreams

Mornings ought to be grateful

To be rewakened

freedom is a cloud

in a perpetual sky

sheer and shape-shifted

 In spite of ourselves

We are the spring and autumn

Swelling and yielding

 

Something knocked at dusk

He held the door and his breath

A cold waft of fate

 Rejoice garbage trucks!

That hoist our wretched excess

To make room for more