1/19/18




as complete as the world before it yields to your becoming    is what the stone and i compose



1/18/18




men used as graveyards :: my name there makes forgetting impossible



1/17/18




an abandoned street is walking with me    back to the point of time that changed



1/16/18




the wound her cheek left on the moon :: the shadows i throw at a stone



1/12/18




a fire as small as my sleep in your side    is the eye of the heart






the dream outside of me i somehow startled    a brightness i did not do






my light hangs from the sky like death in a hive    like salt opening its hand



1/11/18




blue is brave    like speaking from the space inside a seed    like night on god






child to the thirsty sea    do not teach but draw me



1/10/18




the tenderness of a stem in my mouth :: what cannot be gathered from your eyes






when do we risk becoming a river isn't a question of desire



1/6/18




because the clear song of the sky must be preserved my roof melts away in the cold



1/5/18




when started i was dust    dew filled with moon    fire in an unformed mouth



1/4/18




how did crows in a sky that has never been become the light of the world



1/3/18




we undress together    down to our satchel of lost poems    refusing to be more than alive



1/2/18




a corpse knows nothing about its garden    the way we live is not even dying






the two ends of the sky hang from one stark tree    a day too cold to plant death






yearning for the honey of the sadness of your skin    i give in to the moon in the window



1/1/18




in this garden that grows what cannot be acquired    my darkness quivers with snow



12/31/17




between stone and star i have learned slowly    how on one black wing we spin






in the ear of the cry between sycamore and moon    i open all my windows



12/28/17




those who say there is no one to see
            is where every living thing has gone



12/27/17




in a field full of light and death
            it grows hard to see the one who will come



12/24/17




winter stars slip into us one by one    the skies of our vanishing grow large






within the rose who never tires    my heart gives birth to many hands



12/21/17




the dying sun stares into my sky as if awakening is near



12/16/17




a small horse leans
into her juniper tree—
no other life but sky






because i also cling to birth
this december sun
is warming



12/12/17




the little river is watching
            and crows that stitch the morning sky
                        and those who have died    but had eyes



12/10/17




dreams that visit when we are most awake :: the snow i bury underground






piece by piece    like the wood i split    to feed flames that are going blind



12/9/17




the inner space of snow is vast and skin—do i hear our yearnings agree?



12/7/17

12/3/17




orchid bud swells inside
so many suns crowding the exit
i give birth to a sky that refuses to curve



12/2/17




what i want to say drew
its last breath—
            beheld became what can’t be changed






cut limbs falling
upon awakened ground—
            the silence that follows called wound



11/26/17




the driver of the chestnut mare is waiting like a friend
black cart quiet
the wind you’ve become



11/25/17




today we cleaned the gardens for winter
left smoking piles of disbelief
dug up a crescent moon



11/23/17




i hear the clatter of nothing falling
at midnight in the kitchen—
my wife wakes up, dies
sunlight weeping from her eyes



11/19/17




sat through the storm last night
            wondered where all that rain fell—
tight roof, sound mind, eternity chasing its tail






freshly made, i twist in the wind
            snake skin returning to an earlier molt
            the dark in a dog set to howl



11/18/17




a catalpa leaf bares its teeth, rakes
my face over and over
makes blood flow clear as water






i stand naked in the wind this morning
sky flies backward toward a sun
darker than light can see



11/16/17




like the child up in a tree
staring lost through swarming leaves
your being has entered the dream



11/14/17




squirrel will be killed again yesterday
there on the road—
whose future measured by the number of feeding crows



11/12/17




moon whimpers
harvesters slit the night
father cannot find child in the stubble of the field



11/11/17




the night i wasn’t conceived
still stirs the mind—
blue leaves gently coming loose



11/10/17




the calm face is in another country
another world—
we walk from Ohio to vote for it






the joy of motionless motion
comes after death
when you are the morning every ginkgo leaf falls






traveler sleeps late, hurries away
neighbor outside raking dreams
answer the ringing phone with imbricate possibilities



11/7/17




my face slides off in a November rain
swirls round the circular drain
sucked into the moon






rain before dawn
dawn ends the dream
the rain could be starlings, or not



11/6/17




my skin is old
thin
you can see to anywhere through it






cracks in my ceiling
close themselves to hear
footsteps of moss on the roof






when the fly on the screen
            crawled out of my eye
                        there was an entire world to build



11/5/17




a little sunlight travels
from nowhere outside
lies down in the gutters i clean



11/4/17

11/2/17




the act of alone
is giving birth inside me
she holds one ginkgo leaf in her hand






my silent womb
your useless wings
each life leashed to its unreal binding






she stepped into the water
a stone without skin
felt for the first time cold winds



11/1/17




the distance from every star to here
is here—haar
connects every dark center to dark



10/31/17




concrete sun sinks into ruin
now my roof leaks the sorrow of light
now we must believe in the sleeping mind






just before dawn the sky is slick with ice
one could fall and die
where wild geese are dreaming



10/30/17




of more than can be borne
there are stains—
how else could we come to be






what belongs in the earth
has been give cold wings
not unlike birth without a sound



10/29/17




so i get here slowly
on footsteps half-finished
a maple leaf torn free in the blast






small light in heart
flickers to the stars
remembering for the first time it is lost



10/27/17




a neighbor's sweet gum tree was hollow
and those inside said they never heard more
than the barking of the moon



10/24/17




mother's face multiplied
in numberless drops of rain
till she knows what it is i see






a hard and difficult rain drives us outdoors
as small animals in cages
addressed to fire






four crows named Jesus fly
into a neighbor's naked maple tree—
in white skin death wraps me



10/21/17




i look back at my empty shoes
is how flesh
must leave the sea



10/20/17




brought us all to quiet without warning    no hint of eternity or dust



10/19/17




there is sorrow in the way we breathe :: so many suns half-dead in our hands






where my dreams cross the border    the night sky begins again



10/16/17




no moon hurries the dark cloud home    yet ten thousand morrows slide past






outside of sorrow and silence    not all who shine are among the alive



10/14/17




do we know we really never move away—but what if i close the silence



10/11/17




become that that cannot be returned to    lift up what's left of what the dream spoke



10/9/17




you've had the dream of how heaven is    now can you keep it gone forever



10/8/17




the way and the where of the beginning of all    you were given in last night's dream






the eye above Yellow Springs sees in his own way    that being here has nothing inside



10/7/17




future is memory    hunger is flesh—every day since it has rained






the final word knows    but can't tell what's coming    came from dying far away



10/5/17




small as the first house of soul    if small might save the world






going from death to flesh is to be numberless    thus i have come to life utterly alone



10/3/17




the dreamer opens and shuts like an eye    where animals are burning to sleep






because distance is sad and always of love    there is the forest we cannot lay hold of



10/2/17




the smallest island will come home    make nowhere far away






would it be your first howl roaming the loose wind—what makes you listen



9/30/17




moon is when your hands release    what the corpse leaves behind






the moon they are burning everywhere—now how much nowhere is left inside






from the other side of the light you left    are your windows heavy with snow






river reach    where trout hear me breathe    a deep to follow



9/29/17

9/28/17




blood rising from the smoke of the man i was :: i'll be back in another memory



9/25/17




all things go on in the track left by dust    thus i feel where the dry country wails



9/22/17




when you've salted the sea and schemed what no one attains    i'll tell me who i am