Tuesday, May 6, 2014

The Norms of Ecstasy

Sunlight on silvery threads
thin spider webs
small laughing
swinging, smiling
learning to travel
movement unstoppable
even in death
a change of form
a silver thread
connecting destinations
singing little sunlight sparks
baby spiders flying on light
carrying information
stored data
pulsating energy
not seen
by tired eyes and broken dreams
light encoded filaments
magic not dependent on technology
a lost world
a Land Before Time

Those who never left
marvel at the theft
squeezed into a box
tall tales
those who have returned
to the norms of ecstasy
a distant and forgotten
always there in the library
for those who yearn
for adventure


Horses circling
nostrils flaring
no longer in the mist

Legions gather
in darkened skies
surrounding the chrysalis

No time left for the alchemist

This Wilderness

This wilderness is big enough
to hold all my pain
trees offer their silent support
wind blows contradiction
from my brain
the ocean makes simple sense
here I have a time out
from detours and doubt
a certain peace
that surpasses understanding
the awesome sight of so many worlds
so far away
twinkle hello
I am one here, humbled here
amongst the timeless rhythms of nature
the instinctual balance of life
without questions or searches
here I am all right


I am an angel
and the message
I carry
is me

Just by being here
I have served
my reason
for coming

Everything else
is gravy
take it
or leave it

Deep Ocean

The heart of my lover becomes my home
the body of my lover becomes my own
I cannot tell where her hand begins
and where mine ends

Ocean eyes blue sky tunnel of love
I dive inside for a blue hug
Immersed in waters wet and warm
shelter from the gathering storm

Exploring the depths of deep ocean fishes
allowing my heart to swim with wishes
free floating as a child in the womb
all is taken care of

Winter Bare

A bare tree
wrestles with fog
branches antlers engaged

Stark grim hills
take quiet bets
on who will win

Black birds blazing snow
too busy debating
miss all the action

A stern father
burning at noon
declares a no decision

While the river
stays frozen
in smug resolve

a solitary figure
walks the river, not feeling
cold or alone

sketching the wonder
of winter without any brush
entering the scene

then disappearing

Monday, February 17, 2014


poets are forever listening
for luminous things
seeing the blue bird sing
touching the taste of autumn
sensing what mood the moon is in
poets were once flowers
knowing how it feels
to dance with the wind
embrace the rain
and feel the pain
of carless trampling
poets see a thing of beauty
and conclude
all begins and ends in mystery
in a crystal vase run dry
poets ask why
to get no answer
it doesn’t matter
they go deeper
where no questions exist
only unknown certainties

Walking The Silent Path

walking the silent path
I worry for the miniature world
beneath my feet
Greek God of destruction
crushing hopes and dreams
displacing families
just on their way
an ordinary day
the sun smiles down
through rows of trees
tall and welcoming
not harming anything
until they fall
like Greek Gods
across the silent path
the sun rising
warm and smiling
I hear no screams
life and death
a daily thing
just clumsy gods out walking


Morning is breaking through the mist
silent and trembling like a first kiss
down through the alleys all covered with rain
shoes ring out echoes lonely and strange

Footsteps that lead so far away
down through the street and out of the day
down to the sea and down through the years
awash with roses and cold with tears

Sleeping cobble stones windows empty
dark turns to light forlorn and heavy
no sounds now not even the wind
the sun rising, the day set to begin

A Packet of Standing Waves

I am
a packet of standing
on and off, on and off
here one moment
gone the next
what creation is this?

I heard
god was lonely
master bated
spreading the seed like dandelion
commanding the wind to blow
over gods green earth
a sewer dump of unconsciousness

I read that two female mice
had a baby together
and they didn’t call it Mickey
they called her Sophia
her name is forgotten
she limps along
flickering as the wax melts down

I hear a lot of things
children being drawn
to angels
and pain just
a passing ship
nothing real is threatened

when you whisper my name
I hear you
I love you
I am always near you
if you whisper or not
the heart is my guru
the pot is full

with water for my flowers
and nothing for my weeds
drawing the soul
into the pilots chair
of my little self
seems everyone has
an agenda

even the heart
here one moment
gone the next
the landscape
forever changing
reflecting all of creation
the waves keep moving