Lost Way to the Sky

4/15/24

wind blows my fingers off

small fossils

free of mind

emerging

from a random sky

a withered tree

a child and his face

have all the light

the sea lies flat

4/14/24

five monostich:

the long limbs of human light ascending

a face without eyes the moon spills its sand

an audience reading around the desk of solitude

empty chairs in a cornfield a birthing begins

coming home to the guardian stone

4/13/24

an old rain is staring out the window

high in the winter trees

my garden has built a nest

4/12/24

spring rain :: fat stones

4/11/24

within an earlier melody

unknown outside the dream

are the lands i am and will learn to perceive

whose expanse of lake is sane enough

to receive the grace

of winter geese

being asleep while two calling owls speak the language of night

4/10/24

rain's rhythm

morning chorus

waking begins

4/9/24

afraid of the

eclipse

i was right to be

droning engines die

wind sound

vast

4/7/24

death of the sun

tomorrow, eclipse

shadow of man, of moon

blue-green lichen

on rain-darkened trees

journal of dreams

4/6/24

in the last car of the train

nodding asleep, holding the way home

open

4/5/24

a rainbow

to end the day—

three journeys in last night's sleep

three monostich:

dreaming snow last night in different lives

the same bed years apart restored from ashes

small beginning dropped in the night in the soil

4/4/24

doves are nesting in a yard i've stopped speaking to

opened the window

dropped an ant

into spring

4/3/24

no mountains here

—what is higher

than thunder

geese flying

a pair—

no gazing at the sky

4/2/24

in a sweet scented breeze

i don't know

whose petals

3/31/24

using a mourning dove's coo

to quiet

my ears

lost the moon

behind a pine

so the day begins

3/30/24

long wings

climbing a thermal

virgin sky

3/29/24

rainy skies

flowers sleep

hazy moon

flowers dream

3/28/24

kneeling

hands in mud

restoring water to flow

3/27/24

eaves drip

dripping

the swollen heavens dry

mixing vinegar and water

before easter

snow squalls

3/26/24

with stems that stood

through winter—

here i'll plant my life

the wind

the house

i listen to them moan

3/25/24

the sun is warm

the windflowers will

lift their heads

3/24/24

under heaven's freedom

to be stormy or clear

wearing my black beret

3/23/24

equinox

the widower has grown

a new beard

dead branches

my living hands

breaking

3/22/24

picking up the dollar

someone dropped

a buddhist nun walks by

morning with

a killing frost

she prefers my naked face

3/21/24

pine forests i cannot see from

ohio

the sky reaches there

3/20/24

limbs that walk

limbs that grow

three old oaks and i

sky and winds loud and restless all day about money

3/19/24

releasing water from a stagnant pool i look within

a moonless night

my neighbor's light

all this hurry to die

3/17/24

a pregnant moon

climb into bed together

killed

on the road

i have no heart for travel

morning sky

evening of my life—

receive the waxing moon

3/16/24

a quick thunderstorm has left me rushing

shuffles away in his body

the wind

bends

a tree

3/15/24

white orchids

yellowing—

i have an appointment to be cured

3/14/24

away, alone

a gravel road

blackbirds chattering

3/13/24

an early windflower

white

where snow never fell

sharing last night's

dreams

dawn bleeds

3/11/24

to avoid my hands

an injured finch

flutters from death on the road

3/10/24

for pine cones swept to an asphalt fate i grieve

3/8/24

blue umbrella

broken rib

cloudless skies

3/6/24

even the old orchard

turns death

into grass

sawing downed limbs into rolls of thunder

tracing wounds

across the spiraling sky

fallen tree and i

3/5/24

plundering an abandoned nest

one crow

death

3/4/24

within

the paper lantern

storm-darkened ohio night

3/1/24

the artist

sheds

his clay

2/29/24

coming up from the basement to a house still standing

2/25/24

flow of clouds beyond the bough of a newly dead tree

2/24/24

in the warmth of the sun i offer the sun my warmth

2/23/24

the way forward

lonely day

drone of a small plane

2/22/24

the sidewalk is empty and i am alive

2/16/24

as she teaches the children to sew we turn our backs to the wind

2/14/24

has a bottle of wine

that is never to be opened

green leaves brewing for tea

2/13/24

gathering up the newspapers delivered to her empty house, yellow

2/11/24

so close

to the crocus

i have seen my veins

2/10/24

distant sound of a steel stake

in failing light

driven into our earth—

2/9/24

the voice inside stops to hear ohio in the wind

2/8/24

having shaved my beard

later

i bring a rose

2/7/24

inside

the inside silence—

a sudden cardinal sings

2/5/24

pine leaves needled with frost

inner

warmth

kneels first

then enters

the rose

2/3/24

A new poem (haikoan) just published in SurVision, Issue #14!

2/2/24

sunlight

is the milk

to my green

tea

here's a big white dog

rolling in the grass—

groundhog day

dreamless

after a night of rain

morning egg

1/31/24

Three Haikoan (#s 13, 14, 15) published in Heliosparrow!

1/29/24

a dream of two birds

tied together

flying toward some naked trees

1/28/24

for years i expect

his dying breath

to wash ashore beside me

1/26/24

full of the wars

i am wearing

a shirt soaked with life

1/22/24

spirals of seeds

top tall dried weeds—

my path through the field completes a circle

moon so fragile

blue sky

shone through

1/20/24

warm bed

old soul

blanket of snow

1/19/24

from cloud to limb to ground

junco and snow

so i go

1/17/24

to be a little light

i see

mercury on the horizon

1/15/24

seeing the limbs that fell last night—

angry winds

wild chimes

walking with the green sea

walking with a gift

tumbled from it

1/12/24

wind moans

feet cold

clouds running ahead of the sun

1/9/24

my hair is thin

snow and wind

the oriole nest abandoned

lifted a potato from the earth

tuberculosis

asleep in my chest

1/8/24

lighting a candle

closing my eyes

sunrise

12/22/23

can the sun be weighed in dying whispers

where is the road that walks on it knees

how many waters are never dreamed

12/19/23

can silence be gleaned from winter geese

can shadow give the cry of birth

shall faultless blue endure as the robe of our earth

12/18/23

why did night air

on a branch of december

turn its face to me

how old was light

that could not support

the weight of falling leaves

how many flaws

of wild honey in me

how many rose

eternities

on the eve of blue

why do my violets

grieve

12/17/23

whose blood received the first immortal

whose blood is a carnival of knives

is it shadow that shapes then seals our eyes

12/5/23

where blue mountain ends :: the kiss of a silver wind blows in