I will wake
very soon or later
blue in the water or sky
sleep in downy feathers
plummet, I fall or fly
what is real, speak and feel
awaken from sleep
now the time
before
I die.
Poems
Hummingbird
For this bird
these woven feathers into web
of silken sage your home.
Silent you sleep, soon slips
the shell and falls the day
the evening of your life
with monsoon winds
your wings of flurry flutter
tiny flash barley seen
heart of ruby
feathers of
green.
Tonight’s storm
Tonight the wind
the pouring rain through trees
hiss and whistle of kettle
water poured for tea
the lashing winter willows
this coal, dark storm that blinds
and hides away your face
and any trace of moon.
Thinking of spring
a million birds singing
the wind warm as sun
all the branches glowing
we wait the buds to come
the bending leafy willows
brush the melting pond
of blue green water
beneath the cold dark earth
roots encased and safe
breathe green where
flowers form.
Early snow
The drape of blue, green vines
that hung and fell with beads of water perfume
of birds and flowers long since bloomed
Chilly winds lift feathery fronds
of red and rust on autumn ponds.
A shadow of summer
where sandhill cranes have flown.
A fallow field hazy in its gold and brown
stiff blades and grain that brace the cold
Alas snowflakes
soft as feathers falling down.
School of thought
Who writes of me
without pad nor pen
or scribes with sharpened knife
a belly of lies unfastened from sheath
deep that bores the core of heart?
Illusions swift they swim
in waves as shoals
cold and blue
spawned from
tiny minnows.
Cold moon of winter
Early in the dark hours
where no birds have flown
before the flicker and hum of stars
silence where daylight sweeps away
the cold occluded moon
amid a barren velvet white
lights a silhouette of trees
iced and caked in winter.
Wild orchids
In the rain forest we heard the first birds
stood amid the cooling spectral fog
walked upon the spongy ground
the layered earth of moss and mud
along the path and further on
came streaming rays of sun
that silver lit the wild paphiopedilums
and smiling back toward the sky
stood a shine of silken stars.
Green in these hills
I am green in these hills
I wait all spring long
wait through grey rains
too early for summer flowers
I dream of sun fields brightest yellow
my heart a wild field that burns
my lips, parched paper seeking water
desolate in this desert
your lips now merely
a mirage.
Wetstone
Today
it was felt
in heart
it came sharp
a knife
a hammer
deep the ache
the numb
that tries to escape
the resurrection of the fire.
In the woods a weeping bird
All the blue of day slipped quietly away
the drowsy lake waved the sun to sleep
with glints of gold and blue in steely colors.
At the closing of day
the blackened pines faded away
a lone call was faintly heard
a sadness, the weeping of a bird.
Dark sky
In this moment I am water, grey rain
I cry with trees and all the streams running.
Fog and clouds, the twist of branches overhead
my mind a loop concentrically swirling
a trick – the swoop and slip
the black and falling birds
the scream of skies unraveling.
Too far my lover
Tree, I have come to shelter and with the rain to weep
I am soaked, barefoot with mud running through
soft the moss, cool and cold
to soothe my heart that bleeds.
Our waxing nights of love and moons
now fallow a field that burns
damned our hollow bed
of haunting, silent screams
too soon the fiery devil
too far my lover
the spring.
Half moon day
Some days, this desert
under spells of sun and moon
think, I brood in fields of agave blue
the angled sun blares sharp to parch
to dry, to crackle leaves to dust
tricky this prickly pear cactus
bitter thorns laden with
impossible blood sweet fruit
while high and seen out the corner
of my eye, the half moon smiles
beguiled by the sun.
Fern
Fiddlehead fern rooted in earth
warmth of sunshine gives birth to your unfurling
green forest smiles as you reach toward stars
you are smiling like moonlight
shining back through trees.
Desert day
On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.
The forest green and blues
All day long with clouds and birds
greens and blues moving through the water
I wish my fingers were water color crayons
to paint these scenes on leaves of paper
to capture water drops on stones, lighter, darker
the sky, the soft rain I taste
all the ways I lived this day.
In the morning to wake up
deep and breathing in
an ancient forest.
Blue of nights
Because our days are straying
and though the nights are spellbound
we are only ever falling away
only ever coming and going.
Near the blue banked shores
we are anchored, bobbing and breathing
the clouds are merely sailing ships
waves of swirling skies.
Upon the tide the moon rips and pulls
stars come to swoon and soothe
floating in the night lands
plush and indigo blue.
This sleep
In an earth bound dream
found bare and green
blue between moss and splendor
cool and cold, our hands and toes
wild eyed through the mud we climb
these darkened steps
beyond the stars
returning home
to rest our souls
brief a dream before
the long sleep of
our rebirth.
Tlingit Man
In Klawock stands seven totems
and a madman, chanting under ebon skies,
embedded in cedar wood, he is connecting two worlds
a master carver, in a language without words.
Born of the raven clan,
he is tracing ancestry in the wood
seeks the ways of wolf and bear.
Born of water, amid the realms of earth and air
his spirit runs with salmon.