Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Past Untitled

Life selects
Certain molecules.
Even in this thought,
A trail of atoms
Changes the future. 

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Flying With

This date and this progression of time have got me remembering a poem posted 8 years ago. I will repost it now, with the compassionate comment of my dear friend Willie and my reply. I would welcome comments now too. This sort of poem, a kind of elegy, invites remembrance in all of us of those who brought us into this incredibly beautiful world.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Flying With

[with thoughts of L. J. E., b.Jl. 29, 1910, d.Nov.7, 1960]

Wind ends nowhere,
Erodes sand, yardang,
Clay, shakes roof,
Web, hair and lifts
The matted woof of
Forest floor away.
Cyclic, like night
And day, causes
Clouds to spread,
Spins storms to
Shred on hills, crags,
Drags seed onto new
Meadows and, under
Spill and spell, leaves
A distillate
Of rainbows --ends nowhere,
Begins in mystery.
Between, it
Tests eternity.


  1. While this poem's dedication refers to folks I don't think I ever knew, your details get me down to the level where I'm pulled into knowing them as much as I know anything else from dust to dust, flesh to flesh. Inchoate but expressible by words well bespoke, mystery and eternity lie here indeed!

  2. You know I seldom dedicate poems, am uncomfortable with elegy, but this is the 50th anniversary of my dad's death. You know how these mysteries go. We're always knotting sheets together and escaping out the orphanage window.

Saturday, October 6, 2018

Bird and Straw

Wattle-laden loader roars
Across the west field
Toward a tiny bushtit
Perched on our farmwire
Fence --curiosity and
Courage come in all sizes.

Monday, September 10, 2018

Darwinian Soliloquy

I am layered under
Leaves, between things,
And each leaf
Brings a possibility
Of me --I survive.
I feel. I am real
And I am alive.

Thursday, August 30, 2018

Spider-Sprinkler Seance

A spider web 
Catches spray in
The last of 
Summer heat.
At the root of
Existence, mind
And matter meet.
You are here.
I'm here too.
Hello, I love you.

Saturday, July 28, 2018

In Our Hands

Hop, palm up, plop.
Little guy at the base
Of my thumb must
Feel that, since 
I come by and he is
There, we're friends
By birth on this
Earth and partnered
In its repair.

Saturday, June 23, 2018

The Callalily Question

Have we the courage 
To be vulnerable?
It hurts, you know.
Perhaps that is when
The best blossoms show--
Or when something deep
Inside decides to grow
Higher and, as weather 
Warms, forms a new leaf,
A new stem and grows.
One learns, one knows,
In throes of uncertainty.
One goes on --we are 
All on the hero's journey.