the poet's grotto stripped
of shade lays naked
the oaks still standing are dead
as dead as the strewn ones
unexpectedly warm breezes
tremble cracking twigs
gray bows threaten to snap
last year's leaves disguise
the coming vernal equinox
in disbelief an autumnal
forecast rustles like
october's first rain
but without consolation
even as buttercups
and feral vinca calmor
and sway visceral vital
verdant aspirations
wander off
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Poem 6
wandering in buckbrush
i stumble am caught
by hardened gray thorns
released bush by bush
uphill and down
tug towards the crik
a verdant open rescue
fluttering ashes
wake recognition
standing in a lightening
struck patch round
as a dying full moon
black mar late
chance encounter
i stumble am caught
by hardened gray thorns
released bush by bush
uphill and down
tug towards the crik
a verdant open rescue
fluttering ashes
wake recognition
standing in a lightening
struck patch round
as a dying full moon
black mar late
chance encounter
Poem 5
I have come as far as I dare
into this deep wilderness–
as seems wise
between midwinter storms.
I know these raw ridges
and yawning canyons
where ferromanganese
soils stunt floral passions.
A scarlet orchid's face
stares skyward
expectant and unafraid–
unlike me.
into this deep wilderness–
as seems wise
between midwinter storms.
I know these raw ridges
and yawning canyons
where ferromanganese
soils stunt floral passions.
A scarlet orchid's face
stares skyward
expectant and unafraid–
unlike me.
Poem 4
Itza Wildin flew right off
rails bucking under restraint
hanging swinging breasts
crack her heart
a hairsuit crabbed together
unspeakable long known wounds ignored
Itza Wildin lumbers
when not flying
as is slowness saves
a moment in not a day
pretending stillness shining
buttercups new blown
as if plain light were enough
until it is
rails bucking under restraint
hanging swinging breasts
crack her heart
a hairsuit crabbed together
unspeakable long known wounds ignored
Itza Wildin lumbers
when not flying
as is slowness saves
a moment in not a day
pretending stillness shining
buttercups new blown
as if plain light were enough
until it is
Poem 3
wordless
incoming storm
silences ravens
trail bends
bows gives way
long days
mute the muses
only solitude
speaks solace
incoming storm
silences ravens
trail bends
bows gives way
long days
mute the muses
only solitude
speaks solace
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Poem 2
unknown caller
high hidden
edgy plea
more than cry
“I am here.”
here here here
echoes
mourning dove's
plaint
waiting
raven
dusk
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Poem 1
trudging
up the twisting
Dagget’s Hill
slate clouds sink
icy rain pelts
the bass player
appears
hands me
her bass
not quite wrapped
huge black plastic
flaps fear
glue melt
wood warp
strings rip away
stiff fingers
stretch black film
knots evade
not noticing
the coliseum
stumbling on the rim
roused by ruckus
i see Kyung-soo
running leaps two
towering steps a time
youv’e done it
now get on with it
gone
my tumbling word
clatter on deaf limestone
chastised
finally manage
knotting
deluge unends
walk on
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