poetry & things



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



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

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, hot desert

on this walkabout, severe angles of sun

icy mornings drip into the sweat of afternoons

the impasse of giant stones the gods have laid

to stop or climb another way

egos travel irretrievable we sink into what is real

here we scale thorny towers of denial

revealed 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

Nothing to falter

How when days were like rivers, unending

the slow flow of beginnings, the fearless floating

of dreams, until the startle, the rift and ripple

of awakening

How when days were like friends, warm comforts

mornings came right in, igniting the heart

of polished stone, soft and smooth

to hone the soul

How when nights were long, of stars

moons lighting all the world, the trees

bright how branches shadowy loomed

moving like breath

made a billows of

my room

How when visions came, sleep was late

roaming deserts in the dark

listening, kneeling at nature’s altar

no language of words, no ego

nothing to falter

In wild fields

This house, it does not speak of me

I am unknown to these adobe walls

these cool clay floors

I press my feet against

wanderlust, I dance

desert nights alone, I roam

these sands to drink of moon

thirst for stars to call me home

I travel endless nights

painted blue with black

wait for sunlight

to warm my room

once more to lay

in wild fields

with you

How long

Old books, older still the dust

lost library, forgotten world of words

through vertical windows, distorted glass

of years past, watch shapes of trees

colored birds fly by

dusty poem, room of



Black and white photos

framed upon the mantle

how long our memories

shining wild, to light a room

how long do we think them

ever full bloom

How black water lives

Nights, we take the boat out

paddle our way, green through water

swum by inlet waves, full moon apace

shadowy, ancient tribal faced

lose all trace of shore, black

but for phosphorescence

glowing, trailing from the oars

a haunting, ghostly art

green and breathing, disappearing

back into darkness, swallowed

by black water, by night

strange this death

the rebirth and breath

felt in each and every moment


You lingered far too long

with rain clouds, your morning fog

I waited in mists of rain, the days

for sun to warm, to wrap it’s arms once more

to watch the steam of scented cedars

I sat silent under great trees

of a rhododendron forest

kept looking for buds

a hint of flowers

to come


Nights, when I don’t see you

trailing in stars

or by the light of moon

however bright

blackness takes my sight

a shooting star – I fall

back to everything

and nothing

at all

Desert fire

Gathering chaparral, just after rain

sticky leaved, miniscule, green

tiny bundles, scented woody

now one, with earthen hands

under a winter moon, garland star stitched

pitch of juniper, pinion fire

only a dalliance this

fragrant desert


Daydreams of green

Of trees, the whirling of leaves

how soon the days, changing

streets of rain, storms of grey

winter winds, chilling

sleep, I dream of love and lilies green

imagine how words softly fall

disappearing, now swift I go

beyond, lose my mind

to all


If we could go shining

glints of silver water

far and flying doves

words would never falter

sweet we’d sing of home

falling soft from reddened lips

then we would ever bloom in song.

Water lilies

Green the day, that moves in waves

of gentle blowing winds your way

sweet you slept, caressed

on mossy laden ground

silent ripples on blue lily pond

I, a singing bird of sun

that calls to you in the middle of a dream

hearts, water lilies – opening

adrift in the middle of a song

we, two singing birds

of only love


Looking at apples, my mouth of juice

longing to taste one delicious bite

I stand under this tree

for days

I climbed many a splintered fence

saw you from a great distance

sturdy branches, your arms

leafy crown of thorns

and charms

In trees where ravens fly

from blackest skies

to shelter storms

days of clouds

and cruel raining winds

where even strongest branches falter

Thank you (haiku)

To the trees, to sun

to birds and the ways of love

to breath – I thank you

Sway (10w)

If you could look my way

maybe you would



In the stillness I found myself bound by

ten thousand days and nights

in a fire red desert

you were dancing, chanting

praying for rain, for tears

to drown, wash my soul down

to the earth, bear my rebirth

your hands red clay, shaped

burnt offerings, smudge grey sage

snake whispers cloaked in skies of smoke

hum of drums

leather bound polished stones

with peyote, I have gone

home where the

earth and sky

become one


I laugh

no future

no past

Of you

Of you,

I speak of

softest petals, always kissing

flowers, full bloom

wet drops, your reddened lips

pour darkest cherry wine

all the day, watercoloring

my skies


Black charcoal, thunder clouds reign

a torrid storm of heartbeats pound

your strangling hands, choking land

muddied, we breathe through

gasp of living much too fast

we come seeking love, drown in fear’s

torrential flood, in a world run

by men with hearts of

black obsidian

Night lilies

Tonight in this garden

a million flowers boom

clouds of gypsophila loom

at my window and beyond

with fragrant vines, that crawl

saturate, scented paper walls

these night lilies, only a dalliance

that blooms and fades

your hands soft upon my legs

we are drunk from dulcet wine

sung from the whisper of moon that dips

caress of your reddened lips

all other time is now lost

as we travel this world

lilting softly slow

Night desert

Walking this trail, all is strange

I am still round, attempting square pegs

the evening desert with its saguaro looking people, my friends

snakes, and the hissing heat of day they now crawl away

into the melting sea sky of orange, red

into the indigo rising, turning black

no sound of cities, no world out there to cry

only the calling of stars, like musical notes

songs twinkling in time with

the hot honey yellow moon.

Night blooming

two birds

a sky disappearing

lost in clouds with you

soft cotton, downy feathers blue

now soon the end of day

gives way, dark as indigo

black, as light strays away

we bathe with blinking stars

through windows sparkling blue

candles of the moon, our room

of fruits and wildflowers strewn

here we lay, only to die

only to bloom

Never the same

Black geese on the waves today

crashed, then flew away

blackness was the water

that called my name, late

and never again the same

deep dark well, a cave

I went looking in, the deeper

I go, ever an echo

that calls my name

naked, stripped of shame

my heart revealed

never again

the same

Naive girl

Pretty they said, oh but it was summer

when she bloomed, and wildfires came along

dancing across fields – wind songs

blowing through her mind

and there she stayed

sleeping much too late

to flee the lake of fire


Sometimes half asleep, scribbling words

or waiting for the morning sky to deliver birds

I fall off the edge, leave this tiny bed

float on rainy streets, there is no one that I meet

only a corner vacant house, where precious paintings hang

I am staring in the window, at flowers yellow, blue

this must be the room of Vincent Van Gogh, this starry night

with lily ponds so beautiful, fields of flowers

purple iris, Monet meadows

brown skin woman, hibiscus flowered

island scenes of Paul Gauguin, so brightly colored

there are pastel Degas dancing ballerinas

Marc Chagall, blue indigo people

without legs, they smile surreal

this museum of the mind

minutes like hours

turned sublime

How night fell

It felt at first – tangled, then more of an unraveling

hair in hands vanished, how softness fell

swept across the room, and soon

shadows in the sky

lost in moon fog’s tide

glowing, the shining of two souls

the seek and hide

the reappearing of

you and I

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