poetry & things


In Mexico

The furniture was Oaxacan wood

finished in plum, red blood

with brightly painted finials

haunting little animals

a lazy, creaking fan

whirred on, above

in gasping bursts, too tired

to cool the room

and only moved

the paper bougainvilleas

glowing – orange, peachy, red

my feet, ever ecstatic to meet

the cool of clay saltillo tiles

red faced, happy to have escaped

into this mirage, my one thought

being margaritas

Lost poet

Finding your poems, there, all but faded

dust of pages, your fleeting song of days

secret book of you, lost among the ruins, laid

and there I stayed, many an hour

and could not tear away

love and the stars

All the air alight, sparks fly

lightning, touching down

the falling of skies, falling of stars

dumb, I am mad and beyond

too far off course to find

the mere constellations

I’ve ever known

Night skies

In the evening, by the sea

subtle ripples, bright as liquid silver, flash

an ocean of color, to drink away the sun

a line of light fades into skies of night

from the call of deepest dark

a birth of luminous stars

such blue, white fires, only burn

no cares, no seasons do they discern

they have come and gone, without our knowing

they will never sleep, only change in cosmic storms

burning away in the vastness

of other forms

Only to sing

Some say

she is lost to writing poems

snippets, little vignettes of beauty

so much nature inspired, obsessed

with green, botany driven desires

forever in skies, blue, or black with stars

meteor showers, falling, melting

like the liquid silver, red sea of mars

crashing waves, her days

tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry

there is no fault, in words

no shame to be made

would be a sorrowful price to pay

she is writing to find

some truths, a sleuth, a seeker

of going within, without doubt

writing to find herself

most days searching out signs of life

to feel what it would be like, to be

in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers

of garden lily bowers

to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal

climbing invisible ladders

in orchards of apple blossom Springs

to sing, sing, sing


Red + Gray


it is the clay of hills

cathedral clouds of sunsets burning

the weeping that calls you home

it is the fire within


it is the ashes

blowing from your hands

the sands slipping, back to earth

a soul sifting, a balanced scale

awaiting your rebirth

Shadows of summer

Watching long shadows

some slipping under fences

tricky summer suns

like to play me dumb

or glare me, half blind

sometimes I run

or sometimes walking backwards

looking where I’ve been

in the heat of day

only a dream to sway

under the cool

of moons

Sometimes, traveling

When I am traveling, long

the days and sweat of trains, window games

play of strangers, lonely stray

and I with no escape, but my mind to fly away

will meditate, sink deep into my seat

to disappear, into other worlds

far from my destination

derailed from expectation

like the mad seeking of the sun

when only moons will come

awaiting a friend, a hand to hold

the lonesome of traveling alone


Crushing you’ve come, traipsing through

my fruits and flowers, to stalk after dark, my heart

disguised in scented garlands, your secret blood and art

do you think me cruel, maybe a fool, or maybe

just a lover of summer white moons

with stars and tricks and the air too hot

my mind is asunder, I’ve fallen under

hypnotic spells you weave

and now it’s really

far too late

to leave


her face, moonlight, diffused

pure art, creamy, curved

hands of finest sculpture

alabaster smoothed

delicate strands, her hair

of softest gold

floats, she dwells in stars

Venus, high priestess

magnetic force above

ever invincible

ruler of love

Summer’s drift

That time in summer’s red, the hilly sands I climbed

willow grass woven white with yarrow, fragrantly entwined

my eyes softened in sea drift’s tide, of puddled shallows

ocean sang in rising waves, wild sea kelp tangled

sun slept scarce hours, it’s shining seaward beams

that only leave as the final silhouette

vanishes into night’s dream

The GMO field of spoils

Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected

plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn’s bountiful birth

food pure and wild, to eat – a way of life!

we cannot thrive in unearthly soils

in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils

awaken from our sleeping denials

autism, sickness born in the chemical fields

all the killing of you and I

the night garden

In the night garden, star flowers linger

long before dawn, before the sun

vines climb, with ivory flowers hung

bringing light, where the moon glows pale

flowered jasmine is sweet beneath the air of fire

with lanterns lit in floral scents

glowing through diaphanous petals

here, where the earth shines like heaven

and blooms not unlike the stars.

the wall

decorated, concealed

whitewashed, peeled

years of little earthquakes

will shake you

she is framed art hung, unsung

unknown to anyone

jilted, wilted

a still life flower

hanging ever crooked

upon the wall

dedicated to all who struggle with drug addiction, especially to a certain person in my life

Tlingit man

In Klawock stands seven totems

and a madman, chanting under ebon skies

he is embedded in the cedar wood, he is connecting worlds

a master carver, of language without words

of the raven clan, he is tracing ancestry in the wood

seeking the old ways of eagle, wolf and bear

born of water, amid the realms of earth and air

his spirit runs with salmon.


Breath of life, it is a wild ocean

always a tide coming and going

in this place, it does not linger long

never holding on, only drifts quietly into night

into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies

or in the night waters, a ghostly glow

of phosphorescence, a transient trail

of luminescence that soon

fades and reappears to light

the deepest depths

of sea

Waialea bay

How the rains came

wild blue in waterfall tears

magenta orchid clouds to wear

Oh, the tropical winds

leeward, an ocean blowing in

plumeria flower waves

a blissful turquoise bay

lay of fragrant floral sands

warm breeze to carry

this wild ocean breadth

far and off to foreign lands

When I sleep in forests

Eyes, crystalline, shine awake

newborn suns stream, blue light

mists of fog breaking through

cool breath, of forest’s wet

steaming bark, clouds of water smoke

trees breathe deep, drinking dawn

mosses warm in wooded sun

raven call penetrates the soul, an ageless echo

pulse of forest drums, awake my heart

in birded rhythmic song, connection, meditation

I am home, I am home

When we were endless green

When we were endless green

When we were very far

and there were never any roads, no star lights strung, to follow

only a winding path, a branch to grasp

a place to fill the hollow

blue the summer, with drowsy daisies came

petals, petals, we drew circles round the sun

gold spun, our halo heads of pollen

gold, the bees of sleepy flowers, fallen

they, seeking clover grass, heaven

days we lived deep in hills

we were endless green, in countries never mapped

stretching past the farms afield, in other worlds

borderlands, too far to see, beyond the gray of days

and we were ever free, in the shining silver

of our hallowed hills of sun


a million petals ago, in colored meadows

stems, gathered in far off fields

windy, wild born

bright pods of summer

split in August suns

earth bound, await

September floods

cool, foggy rains

cycle of rebirth

wildflower seeds falling

back to earth

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