poetry & things


Birds of Spring

It was soft, a purple shade

lavender, lilac made

of flowers warm, we breathed

deep the inhale, swirling round

sweet the exhale, falling to the ground

reaching deep in soul

the sink, the swallow

birds of spring

songs to fill

the hollows.

Bird in the clouds

How you flew, newly feathered

a fledgling falling from the sky

but upwinds sailed you far and high

carried you, strong through clouds

winged and wild your arms

fingers running through

the updrafts of cold,

cooling, warm.

Your drowning waters

In a drowning river I went – to swim

only a short while with you

the flail and falter of cruel water

caught in the reigning thunder

impossible to breathe when held under

yours was a killing lure to be sure

a death trap of words

but no steel cage can ever hold

a sky full of beautiful birds.

Wind of pining

Wind and dark the night I pine

stark the grasp of longing

branched and vined

blue mourning

deep in soul

an echo


When through my fingers

your hand slips

taste of your

fleeting kiss



Paper winged

when torn, I stutter, stammer

spiraling and falling

only in dreams softly sweet

once more a butterfly

brilliantly winging

When winter goes

When winter melts

footprints of mud, this path

now a screen of green

I cannot see, lost I listen for

calling words, the haunt of forest birds

cry, they call before the storm

deep a swell of rain pours

that wild, brings another Spring

mossy soft this budding floor

mist and petrichor that waft

attract, they meld and melt

sweet into the soul


I am waiting for the spring, the change

the variance of green

waiting for you, a fool

swim, I drown in this moon-pool

dark down a tunnel of night

I make my way by braille

only to touch, to see

a rivulet of rain

before the sun

that swells of red

and strays away

the day, a heart

that long ago


Until morning

This is the shadowed imprint, the trace left

ice melt and sea drift of time erased

soft-shod footfalls once apace

this ancient path we travel by

wild with beasts, fledgling trees

of downy wings

we cry, learn to fly

stay awake to see the night

how light penetrates

moon tangled through trees

our souls to illuminate

stars light the way

carry us ever further away

once per chance, never again

until morning

To float like moon

My heart a fevered pulse

haywire fuse of sparks

an ignition, a lock, a key

turns, follows, leads

In a world unknown

our days, sweet, slow

we glide, float like moon

glowing through trees

the shine of dream

here where the hours are slowed

here where one is left


The killing hour

With night, my love brings a paling flower

brings me full bloomed, a drenching petal shower

disheveled, falling to the ground

until our colors run out

the burst and shatter

delightfully tattered

the killing hour

he brings

The first bird

Early, this silent earth

in the stillness before sound comes

before the sky, the narrow line of light that forms

my ears not yet attuned to this world

search for noise, waiting for the first bird

then soon a chiming bell of birds

a cactus wren that comes to drink of sun

or deeply sweet, the air with mourning doves

that woo and coo before the dawn

a soothing balm, a bliss that fills my head

Spring skies

This valley, belly and backboned

a blanket of snow – stitched and gone

textured trees, willows wind blown

here where an early moon heaven still hovers

here amid the last smoking sky of cold

a chirping of morning birds unfolds

singing a gleeful goodbye to the moon night

winging before the sunrise

the blooming of daffodil springtime

and too, wisteria tangled vines will climb

reach for the calm of violet skies.

Sky of jewels

Celestial, indigo

sparkling stars of fire

molten rings of planets round

the silent sailing clouds

float across a sallow moon

hung in a sky of glittered jewels

diamonds, opals, pearls

Of Fire

The final blue hours of day

the falling to your sway

the mad of reason slipping away

under the pale moon, of night’s dawn

with stars all strung, you’ll come

so soon to taste, to kiss me

a crushing fire, to quench

to melt, to take me

Lullaby of the Whales

High in hills, winds the road to your home

steeped and flowered by lupine towers

after long slumber, the waking hour – warmth of summer comes

our feet grassed and green, we wish dandelion dreams

watch tiny parachutes glide into the sea

this place is wild resplendent music, played of notes unknown

we have become more than ourselves, and slowed

have stopped to feel our breath grow

making a path, cut from last year

we are slipped and sloped toward shore

silhouetted, just before the end of sun

when the world sinks silent

but for the deeply toned

hum of whale song.

Like winter weather

Winter was his letter, wicked weather

with a head full of snow, a deafening cold

blinding, piercingly curt without a care

slighting me, cruel with words unfair

upon the telling page, icy clear

and I frozen in my dumbfounded stare

left cold, lost in winter weather.

Just to be

It is nothing hard to find

to be the stillness inside

the slowing of time

sink into the tranquil divine

the drift and melt away

of mind

It is nothing you cannot know

the unwinding slow, the softening of soul

the water trickle, splash and sparkle

It is something worthwhile

to let the moment be

swallowed by the sea

to be the shore, to sit and wait

ever at the gate of the unknown

How you miss me

When finally quiet comes

the long pain of night’s trudge

the unmasked soul dredge

swift an arrow, piercing

when friends have all gone

in the silent dark before dawn

this is when you

miss me.

Helium headed

He bought and sold things, much like the man

who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals

mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones

they remind me of you, floating high and lofty

out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings

drifting from the city moving countrywards

many are mesmerized by the migration

the fantastical triumph of levitation

they wait for days, years under trees

but not I, I am no longer drunk by

hot air and helium dreams

Colored rings

Kaleidoscope eyes

spirals amber brown

meld and move, turn and groove

exquisite mandala art, they impart

colored rings, how they bring

your soul to me

so close


Cold clench of angst, these sorrowful days await

what of love, its lessons gold or cruel

our flower laden bed, of stone now lies dead

clouds and clouds of my blues, no winging bird

or musical tune, slow the silent hours burn

languid days creep ever nightward

into black, starless, bleak

bruised and weak, my heart to mend

my mind grapples, reaches

for an end

Under a Springtime Sky

Moss and moon-green Spring

fully bloomed, the dogwood trees

our breath mingles ever in the ethers

a place where sweet the soul will dwell

and shall not die nor wither

Crocus flowered violet grass

scented sweet pink hyacinth

yellow primrose metamorphosis

inhale we drink and can never think

only lose ourselves

deep in fragrant amnesia

Until beyond this meadow

when day recedes into night

and the scarlet sky of purple blues

is swallowed once more by

the molten, pearl moon

Told me everything

When you came from mountains

came washed from seas

you gave me words

told me everything

like two birds or flowers

blooming in the Spring

the green of everything

soft and mossy dream

it spoke of love

told me everything

when you came

gentle, sweet with rain

not and ordinary day, the way

you came and told me everything

Tonight’s game

The crashing sea

Borne of blue water, fiery blue the hours with you

swimming, we rode atop waves

we, the bright raves of sea

float and foam, glistening

the spilling ashore, as never before

seeping inland, our waters ran

filling cracks and hollows

felt like heaven, felt like an ocean swallowed

the twist of turning upside down

the gasp of breath, the holding on

the place where lovers


Something worthwhile

It is nothing hard to reach, looking outward

countless distractions, how they move me about

I play a game, circling moon-blue rings of sky

see a rivulet of stars quiver by

It is nothing easy, fretful, I tremble with night

dark unnerving path, I run and hide

amble, fumble my way to reach inside

It is something worthwhile at times to swallow a river

dredge miles of soul, to crumble stony towers

reconstruct this apprenticeship

to slip once more

back into softness

Planetary fools

In the night air, of ghostly moon

starry the darkened blues, quiver

some falling from the sky to startle

under murmuring trees, we rest

and never sleep, we seek to know

what night will conjure

strange drunken allure

of the celestial

Planetary fools

entranced by moons

magnetically pulled

ebbed and fallen

just another day, we lay

soon swallowed by

the sun

Morning birds

Strange path, with green overgrown

a place unknown, a wild bird haunting calls

as if to wake, coax the light of dawn

wet my steps, break with day

I wait the sun, to come

lighting slow, a lonesome home

or far off hills of grassy yellow

I hear the smaller birds too

beyond these trees, among the reeds

sing glorious amid morning’s meadow

and I, entranced deep in nature’s glow

can only hope to follow.


Sharp shard with blood, it cuts

your armored heart of crystalline

no one knows you, nor gets in

barbwire wrapped and shut

black, the deep – you’ve fallen

your desultory descent ever sullen

gasp of strife that smokes

and chokes apart your life

makes a slave of you, alone

calls for your blood

and bones


A flash of hours flew

and strayed away the moon blue

sparkle and glitter of skies

all starlit strewn, our interlude

the fire of you

the meld and melt

how it felt

to be seen in this dream

within a dream

to be found

the night we fell


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

Dumb struck

Red the field flowers, a thousand petals – rain

oak tree meadow’s verdant sway

and too the path I travel

along the lonely hours gained

winding this sacred sojourn

how brief the days stray

light of life that wanes

too quick the verdant sun

green in hills to lay

and I a vagrant

plod such beauty


all my


Blood moon sky

Blood moon, red night of wine

words like song, danced sweetly soft my mind

hours drank us late and soon to bed

music bloomed us starry eyed

though tis only a flower, born to die

how strange, this fleeting sky.


He is from fields, endless prairies

runs with buffalo on the Oklahoma plains

nature runs all through him, restless

as rivers, always a river, he is winding

weaving, fording the depths of soul, masterful

days exploring countless outer lands

his hands must be worn winter leather, warm

in Spring he gathers flowers for his lady’s home

sees her essence in sky blue clouds

wanders the salt creek way, home

or sometimes lost to the wild hills

he may lay all the day, watching shadows of the sun

wane and melt their way back into moon

he seeks, watching storms in gradient greys

windy skies sway, with darkest rain

he is soaking in, all he can hold

all of nature transforms his soul

his words are woven, spun gold

ever sublime, are his poems

to behold

Twas love

Our eyes met

softly, fluttered danced

and perhaps again

shall never meet

still, twas love




Our days

like pearls come

ever from darkness, sprung

we’ve come in human form

twas always

always love

the hollows

I don’t know why I wallow

curved, I meld into the hollows

sunk and swallowed

a pale yellow sun, I follow

whittled, slim cored

dark from sullen caves explored

here where I await the glowing moon

a relic jewel, to light the path

for me, a sad and silly fool

The Dragoons

Driving east, I leave the sun,

still behind mountains, to burn

east, vastly deep, cold cool desert

early before mirages sweep in waves

oceans of stones, smoothed round

flooding, tumbling cactus down

early, under dawn’s flowing gown

billowing, red sky of fire

on back roads, Apache trails

seeking souls, lost within the Dragoons

rest, I sleep amid ancient bones

celebrate, dance with ancestral ghosts

free, our spirits roam

the Cochise stronghold

The bracken woods

By these woods I’ve come, wildly green

mossy step of days, long the forest rain

refresh my breath, breathe deep of trees

hovering grey ghostly steam

the smoking warmth of sun that comes

to sing with birds, perched upon

soft sword and leather fern

laced with berries wild

and faeries good

sing green of home

they wildly roam, safe amid

the bracken woods

Raining all the day

At last the end of rain, the pouring all of day

I watched desert birds, thirsty – perched, bathe

sunset, a stretched string of blue, unraveling

a flash of light fading into black

splash of gutters overflowing

water drops, the rooftop

drips upon piled rocks

just outside the door

my glad goodbye

a drenching day

sulked away

void of sun

the teary sky


Of the soul

vast silent sky

dusk of life, stillness in the fall of night

the soul unseen, hides

at times is felt, like tremors of moon

shines much like stars, blinking us awake

startles, illuminates, if only a moment

to glow, to radiate, then swiftly fades away

back into night


Green tangle, narrow spiny fingered

your prickling sharpens, midday’s heat

bearing scarlet flowers

this bird feeder

a drink

Net fishing

When I can no longer dredge, move water

dragging silt through sand, disappearing

my hands tied by seaweed, clawed and crabbed

strange ocean of paraphernalia, I trudge the land

my lips, red crusts and salty bled

fingers stiff, rusty locks, rubber gloved

swallowed up, fastening round a net, a trap

to pull the ocean in

In flowering hills

Never wait for me when far in fields, I’ve gone

mad and wild flowered, abandoned every plan

my mind ebbed and fallen, no never do call on me

if when I’m very drunk in halcyon hills of day,

or in lucid colors of a pastiche floral parade

never when lost in splendorous meadows

when a bird of peace, in hills I fly

amid some heavenly place

where I can only but

dream to die

Imagine love

When love goes slow or runs

clear like water, heavenly in rivers to float

or flies a dove of splendorous iridescence

in streams of dreams, imagining love

a gorgeous winged, metamorphosis

Fools of moon

Strange glowing orb

mystical magnetic oracle

points us aimlessly

in and out of love

pushes and pulls

the tide, spellbound

sea wrecked, sandbarred

left high and dry

deep in the night

foolish we, two

fools of moon

Ethereal flower

Love silent, falls

it touches soft, invisibly floats

unseen by the scope of eyes

comes brushing by, or comes in a down pouring,

wet washing the soul, unwavering, wordless it unfolds

travels most rugged terrain, smooths the way

there is no season for its efflorescence

it sits, a silent bud, any moment to flower

always we know it’s fragrance

it is the way, the path

a flitting, ethereal flower

one, that we can never grasp

Desert afternoons

Red clay of mountains, wind washed

cerise swept sands of desert, pebbles sparkling blind

scurry, we hide from afternoon suns

people scarcely found, hide inside

still some crave midday heat, sun to penetrate the bones

drip in sweat, taste of sweet salt lips, colored hot, pink, red

the melt of minds, green like candles, saguaro spired

move, they sway in waves, a vision dancing over lands

evening clouds come flowered, bloom and drench sands

come rainbow showered, and after, always with birds

so brief to drink, to bathe and splash

ever amid the vanishing puddles

Death and garden flowers I’ve found

The day you passed, a flash, starless, black

dispirited day, pages frayed, you left

early, the departing hour you kept

brief sojourner, now of pebbled ashes thrown

the grass with flowers strewn

sad bloodshot sky, rained teary eyed

slow sullen walk, of friendly frowns

mad vigil of holding on, we plumbed with gloom

and death and life was all around

while lipstick colored, garden flowers

fragrantly loomed, your memory

ever wildly abloom

Camping in Petersburg

Camping just outside of town, two miles from work

a cannery job, twenty three years old

did it mostly for the adventure

okay, I needed the money too

a bus would go out fish camp road

every few hours

once in awhile I’d take a cab,

too tired to walk

if I missed the bus

my tent was pitched

not far from the water

a scenic spot

it was a hot day

by Alaska standards

getting toward evening

I was alone reading

curled up in my tent

just glad to have some free time

away from slinging salmon

suddenly I heard footsteps approaching

ahh, it was the cabbie who had given me a lift

a few times out to the campsite

only this time he came

with a knife,

an unfathomable meter

Building fires

How fire builds, born of warm remembrance

far or deep in heart it burns, sparks

a flash, how lightening strikes fly

achingly, beautiful pieces of sky

tiny embers burrow

swept inside the soul

a call, remembered

will burn, burn



Winter’s unsteady weather

cold, cold, hot desert

on this walkabout with severe angles of sun

icy mornings drip into the sweat of day

the impasse of giant stones, the gods have laid

to stop or climb another way

egos travel irretrievable, sink into what is real

here we scale thorny towers of denial

revealed, peeled in layers – to cry, to smile

meanwhile, awakened, shaken

from the sleep of our amnesia

Wintertime love

Eyes, lashes flash

patterned lace, snowflakes

melt soft across my lips

exquisite blooms of winter

coldest icy snow shall not freeze

nor will night ever slow or blacken

in the howling, we watch grey skies sway

laugh at wicked, whipping rains

hear only the call

of our names

Winter dreams

When I wake in winter, to howling winds

a head of dreams still swirling, spins

my body aches forlorn, bury myself warm

sometimes half asleep, upon the pillow

fall back, softly deep

witness myself surreal

float, I walk or run through

strangest worlds, hurled through

time, I climb upside down

back out, from dreams – awake

eerily shiver, winter’s cold

to shake

Wild ocean of you and I

Ecola park

misty rain of

late September

overlooking blue seas

a gathering of birds and flowers

wild ocean of

you and I


Today, far and away

beyond, we’ve gone

from one another

still there are days

listening for your name

strange how my garden blooms

lonely, bright colors of you

strange, watching petals fall

fading into winter

Watching rain

Under these pines, these bougainvilleas

petals blow across the wind

red sails on gravel sands

clouds blue laced black

pitch of hurried birds fly

disappear in darkest skies

a sudden storm at the window pounds

slant of raindrops crash

splash of puddles, the iridescent ground

sun bursts through a field of clouds

the desert pure redolence, calm

a silent rainbow touching down

Two birds 2

Your eyes are polished amber stones

gold flecked, honey brown

a warm spring of waterfalls

our love, a whispering river call

we, a silhouette of wild birds

winging amid a

softened world


High in hills, drift the clouds – of sun it kills

wind barren path strung low with lichen laid

starry flowers, pale white, soft a blanket made

amidst dawn’s dewy moss, footprints pressed

leading up and outward toward the day

the sky, through all of time, only a spiral

how earth makes it’s way

Sonoran desert

Still lingering, clouds meandering

layered upon this lazy blue day

birds fly in and out of view

surrounded by mountains

as if a painting, surreal

the desert drinks us dry

leaves us far behind

there is no separate mind

we sit for days and nights amidst the sands

breathe in sync with this sacred land

chasing butterflies from our heads

losing all the words ever said

day is nearly done, the time has come

soon to sleep and dream

never of this place


Of love

I will see you in the field of days

in the blue or grey of thundering storms

though wild rivers change course

and I lose ground, you steadfast remain

you are the rousing dawn of birdsong

the silver sun of white light flashing

you are the wind, a whisper, a kiss

upon my face, that lifts my sullen eyes

all the tears, your infinite ocean washes away

and I am left upon the shore, where only love remains

Ode to Mr. Davis

It was Spring, late May

and I so late, for class

poetry lessons of Mr. Davis

the hours, soon and fast

how warmth would come

a fleeting sort of sun

language poured rain

cried words

never again

the same

October’s window

Stillness bathes my room, the stars have gone

slow sweeps the light of dawn

watery windows breathe of cold

spider mandala art has gone

now sleeps the garden green

of gorgeous lily bowers

silence has come

the quiet of flowers

falling down

Scroll to top