Friday, July 29, 2011


Alone all this time, this
thought was there:
sun on leaves,
water pooled together.
One heartbeat later
it washes away.
The sea at night
is the way
you are in my memory:
motionless and yet ever-
moving, very much alive,
very unnerving and
so soothing.
All calm this morning
the full moon set
in the west.  There
I am, so unlike you,
who goes nameless.
Be in the shadows.
Under the dripping honeydew
form and relax.
Crease by day
and by night and
melt into the earth.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


The light in your eyes
will shine in these canyons
for a million years;
the sun is in them,
when once it beat
its wings in you.
And this landscape
will learn to speak,
just as you have.
The longest shadow of
a rock, cast by evening,
will tell everything
to whatever’s listening
then.  You
are and it is

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

vida, amor, felicidad

how you amaze me,
with these oh-so-simple stories-

like a skip of stone here,
a bend in the road there-

that easy?
An easy answer’s
yes, you’d say,
no distractions, no leaf-counting
this day-
just nothingness evaporating away
in the dusk of citystorms.

Behind the transparent moments alone
or out-loud rhythms at home,
that sometimes shout out
the words
only pictures can tell,
that fingers fold and crinkle,

wonder, when it sets in,
is a marvelous harmony we
well up inside of us, a story
we start to tell

early, in the
dusk of easy dreaming.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Being Born

Summer days are too long
to bear,
their hurt lying in the
deep bedrock built-up from
a year’s sediment.
Get that sense of
immense, dull life ahead and
at the same time
these days too are just
a collection of shallow moments.
But moments that
ache in the quiet afternoon, and
half remember dark nights
yet to come.
The vast, unwatered stillness leads to
a sense of dread
rising up at every thought;
being born feels like dying.
Rise up, rise up and go out.

Saturday, July 23, 2011


There comes a quiet passage
of time on a train,
it arrives about 4 a.m.,
the sky lit like ash,
when the night journey is
halfway through and
halfway begun.
Every dark station and spreading tree
passed by assumes
a fleeting fragility
and stillness.
I dreamed last night
I nearly died and then
awoke today, at the
end of the line,
to rain and
faintly heard birds.
It’s hard to have hope
in such a dark room
where light merely filters in;
barely, haphazardly.
This is my moment,
and I am 5 years old again.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Sunday Afternoon

Afternoon darkens
and my camera is
quiet in my palm.
I wanted to shoot
faces, but...
there are only
dead leaves here and
house roofs beyond which
the sun has just sunk,
quiet in my eyes.
I wanted to know faces
and drown in the sun.

Afternoon turns
toward evening, I
sense it’s all over.
But dark and gray
before me are our
wind chimes;
flattened spoons
whose swinging
in the pastel light,
the still air,
is memory,

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Celery stalks

The twirl of a
anchored penny
spins alone,
raisins mingle
that the dew day
or that honey
The splash of
a pool.
Outlasts is a
term I never
use.  And
never say ever,
or never
never danger,
or hold alone
a line I know
I last.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

swirulous soldier

morning flurry
kept spun
in the air

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

la Humedad nueva

I see that
the sea intoxicates-
Everything sways-
with pendulous motion
the pulse of which
beats uninterrupted and
all night long with
swaying palms.
Giraffes and antelopes
throughout the balmy night.
Who can turn
night magic
into day magic?
I can turn
night magic
into day magic.
I can turn
them both together
in the cup of
my palms
and, drinking,
erupt gold and silver
while the sway
of our time
expands effortlessly.


Monday, July 18, 2011


lightning at my fingertips,
which fills my whole body
as an urn
is filled with ash or water.
then spread me out-
give me to the
wind- empty my mouth
of this useless language
and hang my clothes to the side.
big ocean-
youve grown so old doing nothing
but the same old rolling,
being a tide sometimes,
being cold killers other times. 

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Winter Sky

made of mashed-up clouds
of gray,
the blue sky drained away,
the winter sky hung
in folds and shreds
over the grass of my lawn
i spied through the bedroom
window, lifting a blind
to watch a woman jog
with her dog alongside.
Rays of sun in my imagination
shone brightly on the car windows,
reflecting brilliantly
and the green of the leaves. 

Saturday, July 16, 2011


The mountains
that keep you
were hidden-

entangled in
the skies, in the earth,
in warm sways of currents
atop foaming
wave crests and clouds;
in gummy envelopes
of moss that
merged into the mountains’
deepest pores and
sought the water stored
at the bottom of
their long arms.

The evening always
seemed a mystery,
its edges faded to
purple tatters
after the sun sank.

Then the summer seas
roiled.  And
all the storms,
reflected on
the brightness
of the ocean’s face,
coalesced into a
fantastic night-
breeze, a midnight hurricane
that dreamed up all the islands;
that dreamed of volcanic eruptions
in the landscape among the stars.

From the pacing of the
islands’ graceful rounds
around the mountains
the morning streaked the
sky with yellow and orange-

while the far-off sea
waved in time to their pulse.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Just one more story

underneath the streetlight,
in the bark of the night
im hearing sighing, maybe crying.
my windows seem
to reflect the sounds in
my own soul,
I say to myself,
to me
and ill listen to You. 

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Fierce Love

Etched in the eyes
recorded in their voices
memories, time and moments

Parsed into words,
the grammar of fierce love
remains coded and impermeable

Devotion, care and depth
Amber night lives in
that thought, this second:

an ageless instance,
waterworn, unfettered and

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Eyes of Artemis

The mystery is 

in the darkness 

in your hunter's gaze.

The islands your eyes 

shy in the ocean breeze.

The tides your feet

skip in the pulse of night,

the sun’s rays scan the 

waves for light,

the stars string themselves

out, and 

your rhythm
keeps them 
in place.

You’re the summerstorm
in my heart,
that the last leaf of autumn
never touches.  You,
time and droplet
bring to one ending,
one place called home.

One river runs
deep as the earth,
as long as the night.

One song becomes the only moment.

Friday, July 8, 2011


Sitting by a chair
absorbed in nothing
comes everything
now your way;
and at every moment
to the sound that
loves you.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

New Place

Now I have seen
the brilliant spread-
the flush, full places,
(coming from a quiet
hall of fluorescent
When that last gap
gave way to my first glimpse,
I gave my last gasp
in the stale, hot air.
Here the inactive light
is reflected in the eyes
of people caught in the
new breath
of their spastic flailing.
Now I have seen it
and suddenly feel
far removed from the harsh,
unspoken words of the last place.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Rainy day, lights off all day

drip drip
time slips

i'm ablue one moment,
abliss the next,
in the buoyancy
of intricate memories.

rain drops roll
time stalls

we're drifting on
the world's current,
breathlessly awaiting
its every whimsical thought:

thunder one moment,
sunshine the next.