Wednesday, August 31, 2011


I'm but a falling star,
drifting down on the warm currents.
Remember me to the meanders
that have crossed the earth for a while
and then vanished.  Paint me in the shape of
a storm, one
that's always making wild mazes,
and we'll tumble down this path tonight,
together, and
in the half-light of
a dream
, we'll see our shadows
thrown up on the cliffs that stretch
above our little swimming shapes,
that ply the warm waters one
by one, hand
in hand.


Monday, August 29, 2011

a storm that's always threatening,

among the orbits of their eyes                                                                                    
stolen dreams and wrinkled stories                                                                               
line the waves and valleys                                                                                            
they cross.  and their words were                                                                                    
echoes of things they'd never seen,                                                                                   
assembled fragments of a world made                                                                                
from magazines, a collage they put together                                                                         
telepathically, in plain site of alligators                                                                            
and moths beating their tails and wings                                                                                
against the paper walls that keep them                                                                                 
bathed in tepid light from day to night
amd unseen.
                  just wild mazes,                                                                  
be lost in-                                                                                                                                                                                            
a mirror's stretched above the din of the ocean's                                                                  
crash, and catches the light in droves about its silver-rimmed glance...                                  
you seem to gleam yourself in half-spoken sentences,                                                        
in instants of selflessness,                                                                                            
a sandy beach scattered with years,                                                                              
and around the ocean lies your deep breath,                                                                        
one after another, sign of life, the maker your hands                                                      
the shape of the fingers trees resembles, it
speaks, with all the force of tides, with
the weight of skies and sky-scattered stars and
wavy lines.  It rides
a stiff breeze,
til the oceans end,
and time descends the plateaux of thoughtful
rhymes.  My heart skips
a beat.  It's a forest of glimmers,
of half-eaten leaves and the light they've loved,
of the lingering scent of fur brushed by a treetrunk's
stolid watch through the dampness of the morning.                                      

Friday, August 26, 2011

Reckless Wild Wonder

I pour out
and turn up
sticky with honey,
fingers in tresses
Sweet storm, your
special ways of seeing,
your easy way of being,
how you
pour out into
aqueous pools of night,
how enormously ecstatic
your exhalations
fan the elements in me.
All the patience in the world
wouldn’t be enough to wait
to see how the leaves shimmy-
so I pour out
but diffuse,
so you’ll have to come close
and lean your ear in
to listen.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


into the infinite;
rivulets that became an estuary,
when the sun
was still new
in our eyes.  Mountains
as wild as
my heart’s pulse
in the early night,
beat a way above
the encircling mist
and looked down
on all the trees.

A stream used to run
by near here-
its pearls watered
their hands and fed
many mouths.  The
mighty ocean takes
everything and everything
evaporates into the night-

whose lanterns wait for the world.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Lost in thought on a rivery afternoon

once upon a time a
little deer strolled
deep into the woods.
feeling lost it would
not walk any further
and stood in mute meditation
for as long as it took.
it's worth it to do
anything and it's even worth it sometimes
to do it over and over,
if the gaze with which
you meet it is beautiful,
long-lasting, and even. 

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Green atlas

the light plays on your pupils
constantly as a
child with a ball
is unsatisfied with every
single blade of grass,
every inch of cloud;
your nose has pierced the sunshine
and where distance meets the horizon,
i hold out my hands,
become one with the earth,
and fall in a waterfall
the distance to the horizon-
knowing full well the length
i'll have to fall,
i'll have to cry,
to reach it down there. 

Friday, August 19, 2011

dream aggregate

try to capture
that simple rhyme
of full light, bring
the moon all the way down;
walk on the garden's edge
but i don't want
to enter now;
cry on my shoulder,
sift through the trash
to find the answers...
hug me tight
in the early light.
insist on every thing golden.
i desire fire.
in the opulent and glowing
dawn, ships in,
banners flapping.
a cold, swift wind has
seen us off,
the little things wash in and out;
clasp our hands.

this dream of love
wavers in my palm.
i can take it or give
it, any time, and
supercharged lightning striking,
the sea crashing against the rocks,
one field of grass waving...

the silence will penetrate me 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


emblazoned on
some hills
remote and
the harder
side of
the massive
ledge of granite
grows moss
and ferns

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


I left
like the taste of
sea-salted air
on your tongue.
The stars swing
around the tips
of waves and
palm fronds leaves’
light blushes
still and
blink all
open eyes.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The way velvet loves wood

solidly; your hands
seeking hers. an ordinary
way to think wouldn't
have such light-
couldn't reflect it
between two eyes that way.
wild seas, wild clouds.
the nights must dawn long,
days must seem like love
bursting on the hour,
ants and little things
have become the gods.

you would know.  the story
goes the way all
hearts go that
love so much.  the
indefinite clasps
of velvet linking us together...
the infinite grain of the wood
we hold...

seas have roiled so long
into the night.
misty palms sway
and shudder.
in a nighttime window somewhere,
the faces are just beginning to light up...

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The real

one token of
my appreciation
would be to forgo
that look,
any look;
looks burn.
so much better not
to even gaze.
in my mind
all is perfectly clearly
the trees one by one
and only to themselves. 

Saturday, August 13, 2011

night tracking away lost rain lost thoughts time in granada

We met
these girls
and boys
in a bar not far
from here.
Their multivaried
accents, rich
of swinging opulent
jewels, handbags.
Their cool demeanor
Our attention
and it was riveted
in the back of our skulls,
we nearly stopped
to check the pain
but kept on instead.
These people wont
stop for no man,
no woman.
Their knowledge
demands it
and demands itself.
Of the rain coasting
on the street only the
lights got reflected in
our path, only numbers
remained at last,
Letters were subsumed
in the math, spiraled away.

Friday, August 12, 2011


what keeps you
running one at a time,
a single petal,
one little note
one little note
of guitar.
chords echo in
the night,
the night holds me up,
and i´m face to face
with the moon
and with the sun,
my goddesses;
and the thick forests.
Eating old trees to
sustain all the grace
to birth a few new ones,
now, all held in
til just the
appropriate moment, then,
out in a burst of sweat and
tears and blood, love
runs all the way
in and out again. 

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Walking and Talking Like Some Kind of Movie

The way we walk
is divided
and spaced evenly
with windows
to show us where we
are not.
Make my eyes of marble,
and they will not open.
I will not see.
Because it is not real.
The way we mingle, we sway,
churning the small talk.
Hiding our true words.
Not knowing
where to go,
or why.


Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Little Whispers

Music was made in your eyes
(Stirring heart-rhymes describe
Intricate, silky notes that coax
Benevolent, relaxed meters to
Meander out of time,

Periods of peaks,
Static mountainous displays,
Orchid flowers and fingertips,
Oval-shaped even-numbered tiny fireflies
Escape into daylight.

Lazy lines unknown moment to moment.
Unspeakable rhythms just unfold
Just because.  No memory and not even
Time, in the long, loose
Bubble of the evening, amidst

The smoky forms of undeciphered ideas
In the secret language spoken between
The creek, the pebbles, the roots, the wing.
A skysong sparkleblue unloosens,
Unwinding itself down the path

Of perfumed ferns, to nestle
Within the heart’s whisper-sounds,
To resound to the depths of the forest),
Just before the stars came out,
To sing the wandering sunshine to sleep.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

zero to infinity

ive depressed
the accelerator
with my right foot-
no braking now.
Opening the throttle
all the way-
a tree is the first to bend
as i speed away,
as i arc and crease.
A hundred thousand words spill out!
Poetique streams by
on every side...
oh, my god the velocity
one can reach in todays
cars is unimaginable.
These windows were designed
for this, however,
and have distinctly revealed
the countryside, the city-
scape in infinite detail.
On with the autopilot for
a moment, ive got to grab a snack.
Im back, hands on the wheel,
living for the moment
that flies by- life
on the road- eternity measured
in miles per second.
This is the life,
with my stereo blasting.