I’m back from the past
where I kept calling my name
and no one answered

Bahia, September 2008

Red laterite hills
and blue ocean and green palms –
finding is losing


Four hundred miles gone
a cyclone rules our atmosphere –
I’m low in the low


All things change – I’m changed
by my futile resistance
to each tiny change

High Breezy

High breezy blue sky
after the hurricane’s left,
moist depression gone

Tumbling Leaf

Single tumbling leaf
counterfeits a butterfly
orange wings unfolding

Virginia Creeper

Virginia creeper
in autumn – caught red handed
climbing the old oak


Fall – the leaf trembles –
does that white swan know any
stories of dying?

Death’s Forest

Beautiful fall day,
still green leaves against blue sky –
I walk death’s forest


High blue aching sky,
croak of the great blue heron,
leaf riding the wind


The darkness of light,
illusion that what I see
shows me what I am


Now’s the thinnest slice
of being, and all that is
or that ever was


Migrating grackles
fill the crowns of the oaks
with black snow flurries


In early autumn
I intuit my winter
in each passing ache


Scaled with shelf fungus
fallen cherry stretches out
in autumn sunshine

In The Stream

The white dog’s happy
in the stream, braces herself
against the current


The perch cardinal
just left is still quivering –
such is remembrance

Gray Question Mark

Gray question mark cat
fast asleep on the pink bench –
questions never sleep


2 pileated
woodpeckers down on the ground,
then a loud lift-off

Blue Sky

How blue is this sky,
color of a robin’s egg,
all empty of clouds


The cool of the nights
is luxury of autumn –
how crisp my mind is

Mind Games

When I wish it full,
my mind’s empty; when I wish
it empty, it fills


There’s no way to spin
October’s gold into words,
but a fool might try

October 17, Sixth Anniversary

I remembered and
forgot you all day long, you,

Buried Bulbs

Day of limpid light
I’m doing nothing at all,
less than buried bulbs

Round Trip

I am dust going
back to dust – all tickets
are round trip tickets


The printed letters
take sudden flight from the page,
leaving me a blank


Bleached corn stalks emerge
from the morning mists as blind
and deaf as the dead

Crash of 2008

Nothing is the wealth
I have irreducibly –
nothing’s less than it

Wild Ride

New dryads’ saddles
another autumn’s wild ride,
smooth and firm their seats

Great Blue

Down river’s black back
golden leaves are floating now
past great blue heron

River’s Spine

Kingfisher chatters
up, down the black river’s spine –
he sheds blue beneath

Jurie, Novemeber 6, 2008

No memorial
save what’s lived inside me now
twenty long years gone

Of Grief

Memory of grief
and the grief of memory –
each lives in other


Autumn’s an embrace
that holds me and all I’ve lost,
lets me find myself


Thick November fog
is balm – white anemones
gleam, close rooted stars


Blue jay under gray,
cardinal against stream’s black,
mourning dove quartet

First Snow

Swirling white petals
returning to bare cherry –
November’s first snow


Fox rests quietly
in the vale of dreams, plotting –
the moon winks at him


Out of misty dreams
I rise exhausted – what took
it out of me, why?


Almost winter sunshine
makes this new snow dazzling white,
under a blue bowl


The hawk comes and goes
murderous in its intent,
quite at ease in flight


Hawk lights in tulip,
sits and sways with the wind’s gusts,
accepts sun’s caress


The stew of purpose
changes its ingredients
with each passing day


Hawk’s a juvenile,
white bellied against blue sky,
scanning the ivy


Oak leaf falls slowly,
degree of difficulty –
precisely zero


Flicker’s on the branch
above the hawk – what do they
make of each other?


Afterglow of sun,
orange tongue in the mouth of night –
will dawn give it words?


Darkness is complete –
I am left with my mind’s light,
most intimate sun


I stumble into
my thoughts and then I’m surprised
to find myself there


The amber of tea
is the shade of autumn leaves
clinging to their trees


It’s a lot of work
to know anything and hard
to keep from knowing


The strangest darkness
is the one that lives in light —
as dust in snowflake


It’s the backcountry
of myself that holds me, so
I keep wandering

Rainy Day

Question mark cat tries
all the doors, hoping one has
dissenting weather


Squadron of mallards,
drakes green headed as parrots,
ducks dun as the reeds


Four-thirty twilight,
this year dwindling down to dregs –
how precious the light


Moon climbs down an oak
so slowly and carefully –
raccoon passes it

Last Day

This last day of fall
I put an ink black beret
on my bald head, smile


Not quite all used up,
I’m flint that’s stingy with spark,
but can still start fire


Cardinal couple
in the bare dogwood, only
bright spots in the drab


I seek, but don’t know
what I’m seeking – curious
is the itch I am


When I look around,
outcroppings of mystery
are all that I see

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