My Sixties

Can I leave the past behind?
It returns --never mind--
One learns along the way
That was,  long ago,
And does not go away,
Not tomorrow, today,
Or now, ever -- go?
I'm not clever
Enough to know, but
Hope the past is kind
And careful with our minds.

Groundwork

An arch where vines
Outline illusion,
Beyond which
Stems curl,
Soldered in pearls
Where fog and
Woodruff fuse,
Compose a circuitry
Of choice and fate--
I am always
A pilgrim at this
Garden gate.

Your Straw Hat

Under distant light, soul
And soul commingle into
Single things that cling as
Planets roll and ring
Ahead of night --and there,
If we wait where all 
Creation resonates, 
Remains a silence
That explains what love
Is: it is ours,  as at
The garden door, your straw
Hat fills up with stars.

Cloud Fetch

I see my shadow in
Clouds today.
I just love things --what
Else can I say?

Romance Of Modern Horology

I've had senses
A long time.

Used to them.

Some lights dim.
Others flare by these

Fences, fill the sky.
I know time, my

Name, planet, under its
Flame, explores
Eons by season, as do
I, while light pours

Into reason

Λήθη And a Sensible Hat

River Lethe or Lima,
I chose to remain in
Possession of my brain 
And remembered fire
Rises, sails swell and
Current cannot keep
A vessel locked in hell.

California Rain At Three

Rain outside our porch
Screen, seen on a 
Sunday years into drought.
She points her camera 
Out because of me.
I spoke of Giverny,
Where it is midnight and
We must catch the light.