Thursday, December 23, 2010

Caroling.


Haunting thoughts, midnight
with past, present and future
hopes; dissipating

scrooged, at sunrise.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

On the Wall.


A picture, outlined by starlight
hangs the night;
like a black hole, framed and endless;
through the dark
I travel, sleepless...

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Through eyelets.


The wind whispers
like a father, always right;
but, never believed.

"Falling won't hurt this time."

I listen, lacing up boots...

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

A slivered face.


He walked with me, westward
across the sky, disappearing
home behind mountains;

yet, he lingered

like a porch-light, turned on,
lengthening...

the steps before me.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Hypolimnion.

My stomach churns
like a pond, turning over

in autumn, seasoned bottom layers
die, and rise green

with stratified breaths, they reach
sunlit rays of drought; baking

memories, which flake as golden crusts
into a heron's open beak.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

His tell.


Antler thicket, outlining
a warm body, breathing frost into morning
light, unnoticed
but for an itch's movement, scratched
into stillness again.


Sunday, November 21, 2010

The canyon length.


Late afternoon, walks
on kindling trails of smoke, curling
into streams drawn up, with ambling
inhaled warmth.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Beneath Daylight.

Morning blushes, and rises,
in salmon belly clouds.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Laying sleepless.


3 a.m. passes like the snow
plow, pushing off dreams
into the ditch, leaving me

in silence,

walking this road of noisy thoughts.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Will He Make Straight?


My bent road, remains rigidly
confused; directionally refused,

like poles of assurance, demagnetized
as my thoughts lean, lured towards the whispers
of ghosting fears; questioning memory's
recesses and haunts, holding holy verses
like a string on my finger, a divorced reminder
marking failed faith; in waiting
The Answer, doubt incubates unbelief...

"That is sin"
say those on the straight,
about this narrow shadowed path

trod by my soul, affecting understanding in passing
time's cairns;

memorials to my life,
lost in trust.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Lingering.


Death comes distantly
in breaths, extinguishing life
through dark draughts inhaled

through smoke screened belief
transparent to eyes, piercing
years of tacit fears.

Friday, October 8, 2010

A Little Engine.

In the early fall
mourning rises, trailing smoke
streams from the kettle,

dissipating warmth
from this stove-top train, boiling
steamed ability

to meet morning air
freshly folded, with secrets
laundered through the night.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Deer Crossing


Caution burnishes leaves, turning
to match the road, signs
beat into submission, standing
tall, but crooked with time's

passive urgency, warning
"deer crossing;"
at season's threshold. Winter
knocks at my door, tentatively answered

with un-gloved hands,
chafed in love;
with experience, cold.

Change, seasons
viewing colors' caution;
cross now, the waiting road...

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Bright Eyes

Age pities the child
with bright eyes
bluely born, in sight of death's eve;
The End, birthing beginning.

Do they feel replaced,
these, souls withdrawn?

Place reincarnated,
spaced, in decades-
old lines; wrinkled contentment
finds no regrets; rather,

Relief like a sigh, exhaled, slowly seen
expirated in a breath, on a cold autumn morning
finally,
falling
Up.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

The Hairdresser and the Mortician.

Two alike, their hand's work
dressing, in imitating breaths
their customers: the living
and, the dead; coming
through the doors, seeking
dignity, cut and shaped
out of life's split ends,
faces frayed, contoured in lines
grown tired of smiling; now,
a freshly shaved chin-up, looks
like a man wooing a first kiss,
expectantly...

The day closes, laid out
with respect reflecting in eyes'
gratitude.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

In my room...


A moth dies
turning to dust at the heat
of my lamp, radiating
ringed sight with a yellow eye.

Was it burning judgement felt?

Or, a Refiner's curse
thawed through aches
into sight.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Tall tales...


Disappointment sings
echoes through cottonwoods, tall
tales, of what could have been
but isn't. After everything
hope's bell rings mute, percussively
struck with a felt-covered mallet,
cautiously reverberating dreams.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

The Anniversary.

I wonder, do you remember
this year, when it doesn't matter?

Do the memories wait, like a cask forgotten,
buried ripe with promises' putrescence.

Age's fermentation, unlike good wine,
married to bitterness I still taste

swallowed in the drink laced with failure,
brewed at home...

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Sunflower.


Helpless, I stand tall,
feigning at strength I don't have,
as a sunflower

stretching to heaven
in August, looks to the sun
with pleads and prayers.

There, finding no rest
from fire above or within
hangs its weary head

casting seeds of tears
with soft aching breaths, sowing
life out of dead ground.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Unseasonable cold...


Temperature matches temperament, manifest in soothing
clouds, empathetically hanging low
draping the soiled earth with tears. Veiled
disappointment weighs heaven, like a mourner
at a wake, remembering promises raw with waiting; aching,
arched lines funnel color through grey.

Monday, June 28, 2010

In Anticipation...


Hills hue calico,
yellow, green, and brown; grounded,
pregnant with waiting.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Grazing.


Geese bend their necks, caned
down, foraging shoots' egress from slumber.
Young experience; a tell, green, in color and age.
Eating like a finicky child, shoving
salad to the side, off plated possibilities,
they'd rather dessert first; no eyes looking
at things sweeter, plumper; swallowed whole.
Worms, worshiping the earth
from their depthed dirt of recess
called, in fear of The Voice, flooding,
pulling towards death, a sacrificial rising
to greedy gullets, eating well...

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Hoeing for the day...


A raked sky, fate's wind
in furrows bright, harvesting
the predestined light.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Pull to Stop...


Forward motion, slowed by request;
this movement, your savior,
a signaled reminder resurrecting existent time,
like the morning's alarm, ignored warnings,
fading into attenuated schedules, shadowing
a disenchanted evening mind; waking
from dreams, now lighting passed junctures...
"Oh shit," you say...realization,
echoing doubt through all souls, suddenly
summoning attention, inhabiting thoughts...
What have I missed?

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Above.


At the faintest rumble, rumoring
thunder, you pull off your headphones
suspiciously, like a dog remembering
an old voice, the noisemaker
and his repeated song dies, artificially
flat, as the clouds sing their play.

Hold up.


With only sprinkles
the creek rises high, doubled
like a fat man's chin.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Morning Blush. .

The sky blushes, with mourning
apologies, for her predestined course,
running tethered to the siren's calls;
leashing free will to a locked song,
she cries, under the measured weight.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Rings.


Communication lost, amid many
words, then silence glosses lips
read in kisses; writings breathe
into fearful hearts, lines
drawn, etchings of younger hands'
trembling fingers matching, now
ringed with residue.


Monday, April 12, 2010

Deposed.


A Kingfisher sits, still,
throned tenuously on a line,
like an old man, alone
in the royal company of coffee; quietly,
the dark magic of the court empties
into light; and again
an empty cup...

Friday, April 9, 2010

Tarrying Tears.


I may yet find you
somewhere down the road, not lost
in lingering nights'

dreams, waking with past
failures; new animation
breathes with feared repeats...

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Nor anything else in all creation...

Verses speak: not height nor depth;
yet, separation augments mind's inventions,
stalking joy with umbras, dark
questioning of even the skeptic, mining
the same answers, belief found
walking altared gounds, footfalls
reading: One was here, returning...

Sunday.

The sun's light at dawn
retreats beneath day; finding
solace in the clouds.

Friday, April 2, 2010

First Elk.


This evening in the shadows
they arrived, filling their starved bellies
and my wintered eyes;
rumbling with old memories, echoed
new, with the yearly turn.

Their forms against the evening sky,
silent; still,
like wooden cut-outs; silhouettes
grazing, ruminating change,
tasting beauty...

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Saved.

You didn't let it
go out, death returned to dust
resurrected.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Give and take...


This shadow lingers,
borrowing from the morning;
lengthening his reach

like an old miser,
whittling away minutes
from a growing branch.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Interrupted.


Craved darkness descends
on this day prayed to end,

through hours of silent thoughts, tortured
with physical pain unseen; unsure

of cause or reason; these mysteries
in recessed dark, Interruption's chiding

reminding, of life just at fingertip's reach
and grasping tries unable to breach

collapsing, into the hunger of dreams'
simplicity; simply, unraveling at the seams.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Morphosis.


Anxious adolescence, time of changing
light, lingeringly pleading
this favor, an invitation to stay,
to exist among teasing shadows, forms
old and new, silhouettes of a promise
flickering to dusk,
extinguished.

Seasons blur at gray sky's returning
memories, uncomfortable in predestined skin;
changing, evolving unknown reflections
in waters of glass, rushing
with an embarrassed blush,
trading new colors for familiar
lambencies.

Friday, March 5, 2010

The River Paved.


Conjured waters rise; seductively
a caddis dances.

Hooking dashes of motionless orange,
caught and reeled away from bikes' paths
and commuters' existence in oblivion; through lines

and leaders of a lone man's thoughts
feeding, in the silted memory of haunts.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

A Seasoned Soul.


Does my soul bear reflection of the seasons?
With rhythms created to be precisely set,
balancing arrhythmias within a reasoned
heart, leaving its appetite whet.

After winter's brooded unease of mind
collapses into perfect grace
at spring's turn, to find
unexpected joy in its place.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Veiled...

Clouds hung low; mirage
the truth of heights, bending down
to reach fallen worlds.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Brewing alchemy.


Broth simmers on the stove, warm
rumbling releases of evaporating hope
persistently rising, as a gale

gentle in its beginnings
like an early spring rain, a harbinger of summer
storms, an annual foretelling

of change. Wisdom knowing each season
passes, melting into familiar air
with aged and tried reason

warming cold decay inside
insulated layers. The peaty cover, striped
naked; but now not needing to hide.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Faith is the bird.


Fighting for morning,
staging first breaths to be heard;
movement speaking before songs
open, swallowing the darkness.

Creatures confident of their place and timing,
weaving the day's timbre;
distantly, a voice begins the promise,
this daily baptism.

I alone the audience
as half-light parquets doubtful prayers.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Tonal Ghosts.


Stillness falls loudly;
echoing, like rain on a barn's tin roof in spring.
Emphatically present,

patient answers brim
meeting seeking ears, amid
persistently falling stillness.

Young silence molts with the seasons,
feathering age, and its weight
birthing stillness.

Absence whispers stories; tonal ghosts
sing lullabies to one quiet soul.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Movements.


Winter collapses on itself,
surrendering to the arms of spring
running her course, gurgling promises
spoken through layers of ice,
thinning each day, eroded by the water's
anxious movements eddying in the moonlight.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Hungry.


Obedient mouths
gaping like nestlings; hungry
for what? They don't know.

Mindless, meaningless
rote social expectations;
only memories,

exist in thoughts, I
alone, fed by the silence,
left with hunger's pains.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

The Inheritance.


I feel the ticking away at my inheritence of breaths,
a dictator's hands on a handed down pocket watch, unwanted
as each generation holds out their hands in obedience.

Caesuras in steps
dancing in my chest, wearing the floor smooth
with hard practice.

Inhalations of grace escape lungs, exhausted
by Eve's betrayal,
leaving only this knowledge...

breath.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

On a Telephone Line.

Crows perch on the heart-
strings of communication,
waiting to devour.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Ruminators.

Herefords graze, on the hillside
long fingers of morning reach out melting midnight's crust,
pure white bellies, dewlaps and faces
blend into snow covered sage. Auburn backs,
rusty illusioned brush
of thoughtful ruminations.


Tuesday, February 9, 2010

The Team.

Canada Geese honk on artificial turf,
amplified through the bull-horn of canyons
cemented to the campus quad.
The players don't know of these imitators'
cheers and jeers; cold phantoms in the dark
morning, too early for football.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Audibility.

If prayers had strength
reaching your ears, would they sound
like the chickadees?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Ageing.

Is it Truth, if I come home looking,
like an old man
prematurely grown gray, bearded with snow,
that I am one?

Friday, February 5, 2010

Lullabies.

Winds sing lullabies
of spring, to February,
on midnights like this.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Habits Break.

No "Stop Requested," no light
blinks on, in a pull for home.
I'm the only soul who missed
the corner, everyone notices,
everyone questions, remembering
morning whispers, of wind rolling
rounder and rounder, like hand patted fat
on the torso of a snowman.
Voices yawn loudly to a close
as habits break, with stumbling steps
down the aisle, out the door
into stuttering darkness of worn plans
comfortably familiar, if unloved...
tonight, I am Unknown.

Meetings.

Writing poetry
in meetings; I, an actor
on the stage of notes.


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

After-Work Accountant.

A man sits alone in a double seat, balancing
the things we all do, some better than others.
One of the better ones, he has something to add
confidently, in pen.

Strokes of precision, elegant in pencil and grid,
now lines bow to mundanity, proving existence
in receipts for bread,
milk, and eggs.

Loosely rolled, plans sit in an empty seat
waiting, as he works upon an accordion file desk.

Eyes

I have two windows
lit, glowing like pumpkins' eyes
through the dark morning.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Hoar fingers.

The moon seeks in different shapes every night
he and I never the same.
Hoar fingers reach through panes coldly,
waning to be noticed, as his silence
peels back warmth in layers, finding the pith sour.
Is sweetness past, or, in ripening
still young like this year.

2.2.10

Light plays with darkness,
teasing eyes with phantoms; then,
swallowed by the trees.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

30.jan.10

After years, of you
forgetting. I remember
my mind I'll take back.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Cemeted Eyes

"And miles to go before I sleep," you say.
Silently shouting in gray, looking up
with cemented eyes, through
time's found end of this bottomless cup.

Paths cross over, and feet never rest in respect
for pain, so plain, etched
with a finger, maybe a stick
that once, the soft mouth of a dog fetched

here. Here, dog, were you ever this tired too?
Monotonous steps, dizzied by the hill.
Every pair of feet holding a head
down, close to dirt, leashed by humanity's will.



Thursday, January 28, 2010

Quiet beauty, speaks the little English bird
to the caterpillar climbing the glittered leaf.
Unstated grace, through felt-tipped pen is heard,
questions pecking into thought and firm belief.

"Spring seems so far away" in January.
Inside and out turns blue with loss,
as the weight of the year it carries,
over Time's span, myself unable to cross.

And yet, handed peace, from the little English bird
now himself upon the glittered leaf.

28.jan.2010

Mornings together,
speaking day's first words to you,
man at the bus-stop.

I missed yesterday.
A mother-hen, you worried.
I threw off your day.

Trivialities,
Today you forgot your lunch.
Tomorrow who knows.

Tears have welled my eyes
but when you arrive you see
sadness as opaque.

This is how it is.
Transparent to all but One.
I wish myself out.

Mornings together,
speaking day's first words to you,
man at the bus-stop.






Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Swallowing Prayers.

Drink slowly the last
wet assurance from this cup.
Comfort now seems dry.

Each swallow a prayer,
gulps God can hear, they rise
amid soundless pleas.



Whispers back my breath.

I was told I could trust the Snow
to keep my secrets hushed in its blanket warm.

But my path leaves rumors of where I have gone and come,
upon the canvas, unforgivingly white in welcome
whispering back my breath.

I was told I could trust the Snow
to keep my secrets hushed in its blanket warm.

Unwanted visitors, expected guests.

I have heard dawn coming for hours now,
rushing down the hills to my door.
The howling wind, sharp with searching,
pierces through glass, singing of pain,
bringing unwanted visitors, yet expected guests.

Naked limbs, abandoned in their rest, lie
softly shuddering, stirred by knowledge of Light close-by;
whispering of failing graces.

Silence creates the minutes' accompaniment
before the day's break.
Before, illumined, I can no longer hide.

Uses of Three


I take this time now to write in honor of One, whose work for me is never ever done.
With his uses of three, bringing good things up to me,
He considers seeing my smile at offered gifts his true fun.

Ever so gently he prods and he pleads, “Use me to help increase your daily caloric needs!
Do not fret, I am safe. What I bring, please take.”
Spoon, fork and knife, oh, you make eating a breeze.

I keep this friend, Spork, always near. His presence allows me never to fear.
Is this possessive? Oh sure. But, this way I know that he's undoubtedly pure.
Crumbs of wheat? No! They will not bring me any more tears!

Again, I brake.

Soft grace covers wounds
like glass, and again I brake.
The spell, the gift, Me.