Sunday, October 16, 2016


Cosmos stooped
Over stone today.
Raindrops ran their
Rail into shadow.
Nothing is really alone.
All our roots are there.
Where raindrops go,
Stems lean, life shares.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

North Gate

This wall away --things
Forgot-- is not well-laid.
A weightless thought
Alone can shift stone,
And this jumble of
Memory will lift and
Tumble out to me.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Monday, August 29, 2016

Transit umbra, lux permanet

Shadow passes, light remains.
What follows --bodies, brains,
Lives, worlds-- contains what
Unfurls in quotient: energies
Sent in rhythm from the sun.
To be or not to be -- or two
Bees on a sunflower-- this
Unmeasured hour matters not 
To me, but when I see this photo, 
Taken by my wife, I see what 
Sun and shadow made 
Of life: "...pretty sunflower
waves hello." --her caption.
I for one must laud the
Light that made it so.

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

New Light

From 93 million miles
Above, a little light
Touches a newly
Hatched dove, gently
Across that huge divide,
Greets an autoelic spark
Inside life --I believe
That is love. 

Friday, August 12, 2016

We Are

We are born into
Unknown works,
Forms of things to be,
Grown in futurity--
What will be done--
Souls circling a
Yellow sun, a 
Living star. I rather
Like what we are.

Monday, July 25, 2016


He showed up on a 
Sunday (I remember my
Portuguese, Sunday=Domingo)
And began to sing.
He sings of doves in lower 
Terraces and bushtits in hedges.
He sings of hawks in high
Distance and a lazy cat --he makes
All their sounds, announcing to all
Birds this is a good garden to nest in.
He is a virtuoso --his opera includes
Survival-- and the birds come.
There is nothing medicinal in
His art of reciting himself
But he helps other birds decide,
And he makes me feel good.
I call him Placebo Domingo.
"Bravo", I tell him. "Bravo!"