Deep Inside a Note

Have you ever been
so deep inside
a note
that the next one
is an exhilarating
leap of faith into the unknown
melody stitched together
by threads of woven light
singing itself furiously out of the void
like a blue star
or jumped atop a note
one to the next
like child boulder hopping
on the melody of the world?


The Arrangement of Things

IMG_6707What hand arranged it
that they—mere weeks from cracking eggs
open upon a wild world—
must fling their feathered selves over
jagged cliff
hungry jaws
rough arctic sea

with mother’s urging
adrenaline surging
a first commandment:
do or die
and two silent hopes upon their beaks:
that their unused wings may catch some wind
and that wind shall have some beating heart?

From Root to Rising Sun

IMG_6795done with compass, chart, and map
diplomas in the ditch

throw away the lights
so colors can appear

throw away the dictionary
so what is there can be declared

the route I read runs from
root to rising sun

dirty enough to stay clean
crooked enough to clear a path
still enough to go where is needed
quiet enough to hear the fierce wind

digest the questions to percolate the answers
die enough to let them live

what could it possibly mean
to refuse?

Today I Pity the Gods

IMG_6667Today I pity the gods
and pure spirits
in their unearthly realms
without ferns or figs or falling rain

or autumn’s aroma
among the oak-laurel lane

I mourn for what they
don’t even know
they don’t know
like the hint of salt on the scent of the sea
or the impossible colors
of the walnut tree

How sad they will never taste a wild blackberry
purchased with fingers stained
juice streaming down their chin
with a grin

what could their wings mean
without blue skies
compared to doves
and diving falcons?

angelic skin without knowledge of the caresses of warm wind or warmer women?

Can their heart flutter like a bush bird
upon a lover’s utterance?

what bleak void must their eyes
gaze out upon
that holds no horizon
overflowing with peach and promise
what could mark the
span of their days
in dreadful sunless time?

how lonely must they be
without the immeasurable elation
and unfathomable despair
of the human heart
to keep them company?

bereft of both beauty and terror
of what, truly, could they be in awe?

Diaphanous Thread

IMG_5848sometimes it’s only when
you take a walk with death
that you discover
that sacred diaphanous thread
your caked mud feet
and the golden sun

the only map you need

And looking back to survey
the territory
with its obsidian shards
and dusty
evidence of a battle
now clearly seen
with the eyes of an eagle
and the heart of a mountain
you realize the thread
is you
and has always been there