Every evening I dig a hole
in the horizon

and place what I love
and what I want to love
into it

Though if I want to love it, doesn’t that mean I already do?

Is meant to be a real question,
not an answer.

I’ve thrown lawless songs
and dances
into that hole

and too many queries to count
should have filled it up by now

fists and furies
wounds and whys
and all my favorite fears

resistances and clingings slough into it
with scarcely a word

and each day
I cover it up
with the dregs of the day
while water rushes in

as the sun takes them all
to where all things woven
from foraged lives go

And a truce gently crawls
into every crevice of me.

Sometimes, on champion days
I ask the sun,
what can I do for you?

If it answers, there’s no riddle—it’s so much more
than you’d think

for being a star.

But good thing there’s no end
to the hole
because there’s no end
to my digging


A savage pulse
asking of you
more than you think
you can handle

lives here.

Did you expect to love the world and not die daily

from the sundry shocks
both sharp and subtle?

Did you expect to find
on the edge of every granite cliff
a pillow for a weary head?

A sweetness in every mouthful bit off from the big loaf?

Surely the wintered sun
and rough and gripping tide
disabused you
of such sentimentality

Yet surely the same sun
and the lunatic arriving
of a faultless sea
taught you, Beautiful Gambler,
how a lover shows up
with an unconditional caress

But if you’ve yet to find
the capital C in celebration
in the seed of each moment

strap the searchlight
around your ribs

and shuffle like a crescent moon
over all your little resistances

your feet becoming wiser
with each toe-stub
in your heart

until they become sandpipers dancing at dawn
around the fingers of the sea
knowing exactly where to go


37DAA79F-E90F-4195-9E36-82DFA0EE3F45Gloat of wet and waving so silver slick

solicits the Star or the Me
to make dear yearn

yearning spends and softens,
becoming just Being

Binding no fear in me,
No fear of me.

I stretch Heartfingers
pruned of pity and pride
and groomed of greed

by which is meant We meet
on the bridge of belonging

Touch and touch met
in equal measure

Heartfingers weaving from all things
smooth and holy blooms

The Moment is gesturely-sounded in great silence
upon dimmed over-fed weedbrain
and ready purring beastly soul saying nothing

and by saying nothing
says Welcome, Enter.


9A42E4DB-4BEB-4AD8-8F3D-00B258FDDAF8Perhaps we should cry
when we hear it

or at least get quiet
and turn in early

pulling the covers over
the unthinkable loss

But we don’t
because the words
ocean acidification
mean nothing to us

How could it?—It has no scent
and no memories attached to it

No Beatles’ song speaks of it
and it provokes no oxytocin
or adrenaline

Besides, I can still buy crab
down at the docks
and watch the early sunbird
settle its wings into the nest
of the sea

When they tell me the bones
of the sea are broken
and bleached

Something terrestrial
deep in me can relate

But I can’t even muster
a shrug
when they ask me to stop it

Meanwhile, I can’t stop
my own blood from curdling
when they cut off the power
for 12 hours

or my flight to Paris
is delayed
due to inclement weather

when they tell me we might lose our vineyards right here
in the golden state

or there’s a guacamole shortage

or the price of bananas and gas soars
it hits me where it hurts

I may even write a terse letter
to the editor
or some damned CEO

but not mention how we’re all doing in it together
and how I’m asking for more acid and broken bones
with each comforting word


1F7714A2-F580-438B-BD3D-DF69E8933D94Clearly, the unhitching has hatched.

The difference between
the sneaky shadow
and liberation
is sheer

how nautical twilight nibbles up
the inky caress

how night swallows whole
the darkest of basement desires

how the undamnable brightness returns
as relentless salvation

Unveiling two kinds of blindness—one of unknowing
and one of knowing all too well
once the noise subsides

The clouds look pretty grand
all glistened and forged
from unlikely urges

First split, then cumulate
their bescattered impulses
to bring embolden bolts
to bear upon the land

So let’s take the cue
for mind has no purchase
on flow

The stone and water
lend a welcoming nod
and only ones standing stunned
are the ones
slipping beyond their self-embrace

Soon, we’ll no longer consider
the conventional chords

and the extravagant unleashing
will sound a chorus
as much doom as deliverance
chanting our name

However many syllables, however the accent,
it is pronounced: Destiny

and we strike, we reach
into the earth
and pull it out

like the final act
in the play
we didn’t know we wrote.

Beware the unleashing.

Included in the new collection ‘Within the Cave Something Pulses.’ That and my collection of love and erotic poetry, ‘Wild Rose Hips’, my book of mystery poems ‘Silence Begins Here’, my polyRiverous celebration of rivers, mountains, and souls ‘Riverever’ will be out later this year. In the meantime, You can get RE-MEMBERING: Poems of Earth & Soul. and High-Cooing Through the Seasons: Haiku From the Forest through your local bookstore, on Amazon or Indiebound, Link in bio. 🌿🐝🐺🌲🔥 🌍🙏🏽