6/30/25

 



new prints in the forest clay.

cumulus builds a sky.

whose shadow goes slipping away.




6/29/25

 



the audience calls out a name

the name dies instantly, cries to god

is made flesh, bleeds, dies

joins the audience, calls out a name




 



water pulls my secret

deep into its pockets.

loves the drowning i do not love.







i will know it

    outside the dream

when it comes

    behind the calm

because it breathes






6/27/25

 



sunset.

because i can die i am living.

everyone i love but do not know opening in the wind.




6/26/25

 



corn and clover.

where am i going...

the secret never arrives.




6/25/25

 



untied from its willows

the river dies.

stars graze on time in the desert sky.




6/24/25

 



gathered the freedom

to be an anchor

wandering among the waves.




6/23/25

 



restoring the egg to its skimpy nest :: gently closing its eye




 



can you sew me a pocket :: filled with answers and doves




6/21/25

 



stepped into life's water

stone without skin

felt for the first time cold winds




6/20/25

 



peace to the death

which becomes a rose


peace to the heart

which greens you




6/19/25

 



our music preserves the echo :: of stones washing the sea




6/18/25

 



the sky you awakened in the eyes of the rain :: holds the moon the night and the reason to remain




 



let wild seed wake before the rains grow old :: before the moon is shut out of your heart




 



washing my poetry i sweeten the sea :: until the green of your island is saved




 



moon sheds moon

opens an infinite eye

the risk of being reborn throbs through the sky




6/17/25

 



to be water that has not found a well

            to die young

                        fallen from a cloud




6/16/25

 



if there is a gate it will be left open

if there is a border may the dead guide you over

the road follows where you go




 



birth was a drama that one member of the cast does not remember




 



soul


not substance but naked 

            —voice in a mirror with tiny cracks 

where the other face of night is looking

             kissed by what the poet sees 

resisting all that falls from god

             nothing else can be so still




6/13/25

 



just enough darkness to forest the world :: then light dawns in one leaf




6/12/25

 



last drops of rain in hands of a breeze    stirring what others need




 



in the throb beneath a drop of blood :: i feel my wounds at war




6/10/25

 



in the oar i've abandoned i long for the sea




 



when its suffering's washed away :: what remains of clay




6/7/25

 



let's awake in the garden others can't see

            naked as the moon turning dust to dream




6/4/25

 



does water remember the child in its arms bleeding his beautiful pearls of breath




 



there is sky in my arrow :: there is no path to my sky




6/3/25

 



can you remember the touch of your hand as it gave you the power to heal




 



is memory the only place the dead are given light to see