Thursday, March 7, 2019

Whirlwinds And Plum Blossoms


Wind sweeps petals around 
Us in spring and we swirling 
Go disguised as dustdevils--
Observe without bias and
Classify our observations
In congress of whirlwinds.
We suspect we are mammals.






Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Ten Bucks


[This image depicts  paper currency, solely a work of the United States Government, is ineligible for US copyright,  therefore in the public domain]

I've written poetry
about 60 years
And earned maybe
Ten bucks for it --
Which provided
Encouragement
To keep at it.
Now I'm an old
Man, but still a
Young poet --not
A bad bargain
For ten bucks.

Sunday, February 3, 2019

Pansy



Splash of color over
A decaying can--
Some music cast into
Time-- plays sunlight
Like a chime, a flash
Forgotten, a rhyme, a
Tone brief and bright--
A life of its own.






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.

2 comments:

  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.