Saturday, April 26, 2014


It's the sun that's risen. O, it rises again
and again. The you flares from it, again, and then
it rolls away rock eyes and it reveals to them
all that's alive in the face of non-living things.

Sunday, April 13, 2014


This Medusa tree,
its viper's nest of limbs,
their tender green tongues
slipping free, freezes me.

Friday, April 11, 2014


Not only time's
relative. There's space,
and the zigzag paths
over dried needles.
I've found great distance
in a single step;
the plod that connects
me to young flowers.
Lightness'll come crossing
mouthy oceans; tongues
to teach me close. Mine's
an old, restless soul.

Tuesday, April 01, 2014


What's the get in letting
go, again? It's one when,
a daffodil moment.
That then, a yellow's warm's
warmest, before it goes,
spent. You hold it, the warmth
warmer yet for getting,
and let the yellow go
to where so many went.