will remember more than i knew

is called to a different world

burns like a leaf in autumn

 

shall the speed of light see my face

standing falling naked without speaking without hearing the whisper

 

where will they scatter the blue dust of earth

how many others afraid of night have thieved for this criminal moon

can i find the way out of summer by mapping a monarch's wing

 

 

leaning into the wind :: i am examined for wings

 

moon undressed        the man i lost        looked at naked me

should i delight in the occasion or search for another chaos

should i feed the mist

should i flood

who else sweeps their garden to see what a whisper sees

how deep into my life has morning pressed its thorn

the leaf falling through my shadow is also my shadow

can you recall the first poem to see you

why is a luna moth in eclipse
beyond my grasp

how did the smell of rain arrive on earth

without a body i could fall :: into the eyes of the living

the home prepared for my only arrival :: is all i shall leave behind

the rose that should die :: let me in

the body the bough :: where i learn to write with snow

my gardens won't keep out the cold

how lonely to distill bees from their honey

i will not wear snow above a whisper

i will fill my tomb by living on earth

i will have gone the great distance bound in one skin

breath as a measure of time :: my redwood rises above

another beginning i will never leave :: this killing spring

the garden is my progress through a seed

i feel i have become too many to go on waiting

starting a poem is the way i see her face

illness in the weeds could become a way to live and dream

a black daybreak for those whom we bury

the sky took my life to explain that nothing flew away

by what thread will i live when the sun unravels

may the origin of leaves remember its time within me

only your mother when she was young
and the world nowhere in sight
yet changed

are the missing pages of my shadow :: poet or priest

inside the dying of my apple tree
the sky is cold
the earth is green

moon lies in its bed :: staring into the fire

understands what i do not :: stops the knife from bleeding

crossing cold fields i am part of the sun

to bring the wind what it listens for :: how many dreams are needed

fields of dark sky sink away gathering the capsized rain

as a child i often laughed though the house would later burn down

nothing in the sky that points to my death

just a glimpse of the pine that will take my place

your glow is the moon in an ocean of its own

just dunes dreaming beside me :: it feels easy to be the sea

afterlife in the middle of the night, i hear silence arranging a troubled sea

everything i love is where no one has walked

then i felt your spirit twirl the leaves in a place where the world is thin

through a hole in the wind you hand me :: the yellow dress of the sun

how do i explain my death without touching your body

stone as smooth as the fate of the moon rolling out of the sea

white face of the moon on a separate blue path

whose flight is ever finished before the sky grows old and opaque

there are many broken lines i see in a single living tree

waking the mountain 

an unpublished collection of monostich

one white bone and all of november to light

an old hollow tree is the walk from sky to dream

my day ends listening to wings

wearing down bit by bit until i'm morning dew

working at this desk    my dust all around

how shall my fields escape the corn

sitting alone at the darkening of the day points the way

my skies are too many to bury

making poems more possible if there are shadows in your hands

snow must come down until it ceases to remember

we are here to weigh true darkness for any taint of light

where fog rakes its milky tines :: weighs nothing

doesn't skin form by thinking        of the shadows it will hold within

coffin-flat field in ohio      slowly grows a crow

can faces i've never seen before        hear the rain inside my dreams

can you imagine the storm within my boat that exhausted every wind

to guide the light that is light        was life

leaf falls to find the moon :: mind

the only forest we never felled        living within my leaf

a fly on my wall all winter

why hasn't dawn flown away like a crow

when eyes are closed        can moonlight flood the cave

what was once stripped leafless        dark beside my bed

turn the shadows over until your first snow falls out

to search each day for sun is my asylum

watching leaves fall into clouds :: i could almost live again

to find out how much moon i have :: it snows

a silent drum :: a darkened lamp :: more starlight than i can use

my work is drenched :: breaks stone into mist

could the origin of leaves be autumn        and helpless falling

does the light of today remember its birth

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

how does one keep company        with a rose from the end of the world

for love of the house        our table is small

let us kneel down with mountains        repairing the wind

serenity within the seed :: tell me everything

when i die        to whom shall i leave        the one who lived here before

who will hold the ocean close as it dies

what is the name for shedding a leaf        and having no age

washing the waves with my skin :: and nothing

shadow is the shortest route        to unexpected light

will weeds grow above or within my grave

some try to hide from their mountain by pushing the sky away

haiku is the heart

the whole of the earth becoming more perfect :: entering the sea before us

in the milk behind your eyes :: live those who have one wing

i look from the monarch without her wing :: into the mystery of sky