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 of order,
not at Key West, but beside
the old river Seine


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


I whisper secrets
to myself and then forget
whatever I’ve heard


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 among ducks –
it steps so scrupulously
and then goes so still


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


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


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


Woods are scent-painted
for the white dog – last night’s fox,
the dawn’s thirsty does


My address changes
as I move about inside,
lost correspondent


I’ve become sober –
image has lost its magic –
boulder is boulder


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


Sycamore’s white arms,
as delicate as Helen
of Troy, but rooted


Small birds twittering
in still green leafed bush explode
when white dog trots by


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


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


The wind is restless
as my own thoughts as I lie
under waking moon


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’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


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


Who would have guessed squid
were so lovely, delicate
of features, colors?

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