12/4/16




and yet who has noticed how the one left behind becomes the final light



10/25/16




how near to what my heart has done is the warmth of the stranger's mouth



10/18/16




who will guide us through the days ahead    is to live newly awakened






the sleeper under the pine remembers what is young    the dark that steps out at dawn





10/15/16




the way the last walk hurries grass    is where the ash of the rose will fall






silence into water into blood into light    is to ask a simple question






how old shall we be when the white sail of the moon leads October through everlasting change



9/30/16




what if the other side of humankind is only thinner air








if you have made me small enough   the whirl wind must






what has died is kept in this city in ginkgos along the streets



9/13/16




the memory i left in another place    is it destroyed, or sleeping



9/11/16




a night train rises up inside of sleep    carrying the one left behind when we were born



9/8/16




year after year of pokeberries :: their ripening barely heard



9/6/16




in the pure mist of a distant mountain    the nest not seen for years






when night is full of holes    will i see what is in me from the first day of living



9/1/16




can a pine from the sea ever fall to the earth






if light is grave and motionless there is no distance to lying down







what i do not have looks for me :: and there is no place that is not someone else



8/31/16




time has come for that bit of life gone missing to turn my cornfields pale



8/23/16




windowpanes across a whole life overlooking the mists and cliff



8/22/16




even a heart in the hands of its children will grow snowy white



8/20/16




though the water is down on its knees :: many pass in a dry rain



4/25/16




my heart walks in sunlight and feels itself fade—
while chimes turn wind
into creation



4/23/16




from my window i studied mulberry branches—
             dormant rhythms of nights and days,
of unrepeatable worlds to be



4/22/16




the sole of the foot
treads on beauty—
those smooth tracks
across the sea
i couldn't
have made and
cannot follow



4/21/16




under other skies
            is there deeper longing
for the damp electricity from which we come



4/20/16




i hear the blood ask us
                         if we are alive—
the heart remembering what it does not recognize






      Vanishing points


where the apple tree rose
            from the earth
when i learned to live as a soul



4/19/16




a memory that opens the road is what we want :: honey drawn raw from the moon






when the windows of the bonfire seethed open :: not one of my old failures was there



4/18/16




that hollow in the west where the sun dissolves :: salt gathering in the ripples of life






winds hang silent and limp in the rain :: lives lived without having happened



4/17/16




in the weariness of spring :: all my fences fell asleep :: the unknown began speaking to its neighbor



4/15/16




the cup of my tulip is infinitely deep :: blood islands floating through murmurs of light



4/14/16




grasses of eternity grow over my roof :: a message drifts through the sky



4/13/16




morning flew away with wings that never crossed a dream :: morning left standing in rain



4/11/16




...and the hands of white orchids have no other purpose :: than to lose themselves in the heart 






my name is the hammering which never ceases :: a secret with wings that knows no rest






what no one was interested in (a death in which)
                                                         gave him a way of being (the music keeps playing)



4/7/16




don't yellow sands and lost bones know the world ends without grief



4/6/16




there is a tulip here in the darkness :: no moon to stand beneath



3/28/16




you and i awash in sleep
            while winds rise and fall
carrying fire, and the place the fire was



3/27/16




i have a dream i've watched
            compose itself slowly—
                        the one who builds her nest from dawn



3/26/16




all the room in the world
            is a grain of stillness—
                        the life that comes to life when the last word is spoken



3/25/16




       reach into the space of  your wanting—
a soul there, stretched across dark water
       and no consciousness of beginning over



3/24/16




a seed in the soil doesn't know it has eyes
           but you, suspended in air, use
                       your eyes to deny the invisible