Blue Sky
Walking in mountains
my thoughts are like those few clouds
drifting in blue sky
Not Six
I’m back from Paris
and I’ve brought myself with me –
I’m sixty, not six
How Many
How many of me
are walking through rainy woods
beside pock-marked lake?
Foolish Questions
I go on asking
just the same foolish questions
as when I was six
Inklings
Inklings of order,
not at Key West, but beside
the old river Seine
Mediterranean
The sea is so blue,
not wine dark – my good fortune
to swim in the blue
On The Way To St. Agnes
A thistle blooms blue
like nothing I’ve ever seen –
sky comes down to earth
The Damned Wind
The gray of my beard
recalls the dandelion –
let damned wind disperse
Silver Spider Web
Silver spider web
wearing just a few round beads
of yesterday’s rain
Limber Branch
A single chestnut
inside a green mace still clings
to its limber branch
Black Paws
White dog has black paws
after her romp down river
through rich bottom mud
So Very Many
I am overwhelmed –
so very many books, words
what is there to say?
This Season
My old friends are old
and so am I – subtleties
of dusk in autumn
Whatever
I whisper secrets
to myself and then forget
whatever I’ve heard
Staying
I am staying home
to let unspoiled places be,
to let myself be
My Work
Inside all day, I
traveled other minds and hearts,
their odd green homelands
Rain Has Made
Rain has made this day
into a dim drumming hum –
cat sleeps peacefully
Fill Me Up
The dead fill me up
with quiet conversations
without any lips
Windy Rainy
Windy rainy day
a blizzard of yellow leaves
hides white dog from me
Heron
Heron among ducks –
it steps so scrupulously
and then goes so still
Company
I wound the clock, so
now it speaks hours again,
keeps me company
White Dog Dashes
The white dog dashes
at each new glimpse of squirrel,
thrilled by autumn’s chill
Season Of Loss
This season of loss,
how beautiful the woods are,
as death lies in wait.
“Not To”
Trying ‘not to’ is
one fin of remembering,
the shark in my heart
Flashing Like Leaves
Hundreds of sparrows
flashing like leaves in the wind
in riverside brush
Elks Playing Kazoo -Olympic National Forest
Elks playing kazoo –
is this the refuge Pan’s found
from reason’s madness?
Like Birds
Like birds in a wood,
words live in my mind, take wing
just as it suits them
Work Of Autumn
The work of autumn,
the leaves blazing in the wind
makes way for whiteness
After Last Night’s Storm
Happy white dog wades
down the river that is high
after last night’s storm
Raptor’s Beak
Cruel, curved raptor’s beak,
draft of scimitar, stolen
from the pale new moon
Ease Of Mind
The ease of my mind
recalls catastrophe, how
you died in beauty
Gold Nuggets
Falling yellow leaves
flash in the light, gold nuggets
returning to earth
Two Hawks
High against blue sky
in bare boned white sycamore
two hawks wait and watch
Love
Illusion, that’s love
and all the lesser demons –
and then there is love
Fall Color
I sit and I stare
at fall color as if I’d
not seen it before
Nothing To Say
I’ve nothing to say
except my heart is lonely
whatever I do
Forbid Me Lack
Forbid me lack and
I’m out of luck, for what’s not
inspires all that is
Cloak Of Age
Now I’m putting on
the cloak of age – I’m gray or
worse, invisible
Fierce
Cardinals in pines,
as red as flying blood, red
and fierce as freedom
Autumn Watercress
Autumn watercress
just at the edge of the marsh –
what joy to pick it
November Bee
Bee in November
nuzzles my ear – can I be
nectar bearing bloom?
Peace Paint
Indian summer –
seduced by the light, I tromp
woods in their peace paint
Scent-painted
Woods are scent-painted
for the white dog – last night’s fox,
the dawn’s thirsty does
Correspondent
My address changes
as I move about inside,
lost correspondent
Sober
I’ve become sober –
image has lost its magic –
boulder is boulder
Conviction
I’ve no conviction
of the worth of what I say
it is simply me
Eighteen Years (2006)
I’ve lost track of you
except you’re deep inside me
where I lose myself
Delicate
Sycamore’s white arms,
as delicate as Helen
of Troy, but rooted
Explode
Small birds twittering
in still green leafed bush explode
when white dog trots by
Heaps
I stutter in heaps
of five, seven syllables
whose meaning is mist
Blue Bowl
Blue bowl of heaven
under which we live, which is
only air, our air
Eighteen Years
Eighteen years ago,
I was someone else, now drowned
deep in sea of me
Final Landing
Hawk’s final landing –
no more circling in the sky –
claws sheathed, pacified
No Point, November 23, 2006
No point grieving you
who are long dead – I grieve me,
now completely changed
Head Of Hair
What a head of hair
I once had – now cold winds bite
my baby pink scalp
Big Fox
Big fox out of marsh
moving fast in this daylight –
how still the tan reeds
Caught In Oak
New moon caught in oak –
could I climb the trunk and kiss
what I always miss?
Fog Gentles
Fog gentles the trees
to late fall calligraphy –
sycamore’s a ghost
Last Day
November’s last day,
a thousand coots, a slight breeze,
a flock of bluebirds
Great Blue
Honking its odd horn
a great blue heron flaps up
the black coiled river
Less In Peace
I’ve lived less in peace
than in pieces of puzzles
changeable as cloud
Poetry Is Dead
Poetry is dead
if it’s understood and that
goes double for love
Hankering
Constant hankering
after knowledge – what is it
lets the worm writhe free?
Green Iguana – St. John, December
A green iguana
skitters across coal black road
as death comes so close
Moonlit Worry
My worry is moonlit
as the wind keeps on blowing
both inside and out
Bright Moon
Under a bright moon
the sea puts on silver scales
becomes largest fish
Wise Pelican
A wise pelican
crested in pollen yellow
holds still on black rock
Silver Galaxy
Millions of minnows
silver submerged galaxy
that feeds pelicans
Restless
The wind is restless
as my own thoughts as I lie
under waking moon
Sailing
The wind keeps blowing
and drives my swift sailing thoughts
across inner sea
One Tree Frog
A single tree frog
transforms the hilly darkness
with sleep killing song
Tarpon
Tarpon’s dark, immense
gliding through the firmament
of silver small fry
Inch Long Barracuda
The menace built in,
inch long barracuda swims
the mangrove grottos
Sweetness Of Skin
The blue and the breeze.
of evening and sea and sky –
the sweetness of skin
Gold Road
Gold road of the sun,
light paved on rippling water
ends here at my feet
Mangrove
In this mangrove world
lit from above are squares
gorgeous as Paris
Two Tang
Two tang in the deep,
head to tail, chase each other,
are lost in circles
Squid
Who would have guessed squid
were so lovely, delicate
of features, colors?