A Lotus Briefly

rear up from mere muck

mud to surface bud to bloom 

from mire soon admired

Move Ahead Blind

as you endeavor to step across here

pause while on the threshold looking backward

expectations warp possibility

resolve only no anticipation

then step backward blind into the future

Resolution

from Latin meaning loosen or release

lost in self-imposed constraints and limitations

what a way to start a year

let’s resolve ourselves 

from worry to self-acceptance

to what fills our chests to overflowing 

with joy

Change

and at which moment 

do we choose

to live as we wish

what time is right

to decide to reject

these weightless chains

don’t wait in this static confetti

chaos assembled resembles

any other reality

Reflections On Lamoka

overland take my hand again

for a ready repose from 

preprogrammed packaged poetic fodder

insufficient for the purposes 

of contemporary contemplatives

extraneous intransigencies

carpet-bomb those last stages of arrogance

in the unworthy teenage wannabe  

he’s nothing to write home about 

consider clichés

that way they’ll get it

we were always the masters of our craft

until the small raft crashed 

enlightenment crass seeking home in a handbasket

but then there it was

next to the baguette and a bottle of wine

on the flat lake the sunlit green 

and yellow ochre hill reflected

wavering as illusions of water will 

even without wind

the moon hidden behind 

the clear mirror blue sky

so strange for air

to have color

lakeside on your own

the boys there side by stitched side

swimming end to muddy end

the last time an enemy was a friend

that kind of acceptance takes youth

then it takes youth

Building Bridges

you met my eyes when we spoke

face to face it was the first time

in so long the words stretched out

cords of connection from our tongues

carried on breath entangled

with neurons and i lived in you

as you lived in me for the space

of a brief conversation

it was a lovely visit

a lovely transformation

Evergreen II

the splendor of trees

needs no adornment

nor songs in the night

just footsteps on snow

in the silent wood

quiet reverence

and trunks unsevered

Perils Of Creation

better to ask

forgiveness

than for permission

this leaky boat

in the storm 

over angry seas

what have i done

to be here

asking forgiveness

Equals

i saw our differences

just surfaces at first

all the bottles of cologne

pucks of pomade

on your dresser deodorants

a wide selection of scents

you deferred to my intellect 

i made fun of my own ignorance

in my trailer surviving

on rice and frozen peas

your parents paid your rent

bought you groceries and clothes

you shoplifted 

cheated on girlfriends

when it broke up the band

i wondered why we were friends

my poor character 

i supposed

Property

beyond standing stones etched with names

houses in rows numbered

between the stones earth

between the homes fences

plot to plot

we make our isolate way

After Event

clean the ashes from your skin 

leave the remains in the quarry 

join delight in the revels 

levelling no weapons 

fire again

regard starry confusion without derision 

a vision astride collision she came

as comet fragments may pelt a rain storm 

through the clouds the flames

evaporating joy

cease conveying tepid sentiments

the cold gelatinous regard

instead barefooted take form 

and trip up the sunbeams home

The Low

hide away inside the shell

when true self is dullest hell

you cannot bear to show

you know rejection very well

the boogey man is being slow

vulnerable like a bleeding wound

with teeth and tongue consumed

beneath the bed you burrow in

senses pleasures all detuned

until you feel you can begin again

Morning Bloom

asleep in the morning 

i briefly see you passing

and rise in time to see 

the front door closing

trailing traces of warmth

your shampoo your coffee

still opening spaces where

your solitude blossomed to

its full hectic expression

Winter Solstice

behind our house across the field

whose frosted furrows ceased their yield

onward to red cardinals’ perch

tree line green pine white paper birch

blue shadow trunks lay long and low

across a crust of sparkling snow

we stood in wonder held our breath

as autumn’s sun sank down to death

Ignorance

the chamber’s darkness

in the porous stone a toad

knows not of freedom

Season of Forgetting

surrounded by a white plaque of snow

i struggle to remember color

trees black bars reach up to a shade

of gray I know much now fading

i put on my coat and go

into a room filled with strangers

who know my name

Rain

from less dense mess to coalescence

falling indistinguishable but for bits

differing insides dust and contaminant concentrations

terminal velocity followed by fragmentation

as we renew our faith in cycles

cycles renew themselves

we throw our bodies to the ground

No Mind

no mind is at rest

the entire moment stretches

becoming no mind

Pain Lives On

petty slights past once again ring forward

memory rekindles indignation

the pricks of meager meddling covering

perpetual indiscretions complete

continuing echoes the span of life

as a gunshot sliced silence after death

A Sense of Escher

light's reflection forms a door in the floor

past a third threshold shines a second hall

fluid floorboards let me down upside right

down the hall along the wall past the light

like liquid down the upstairs i would pour

out into cast shadow without a call

sun eclipsed corona fractured on grass

on a thousand facets look through and pass

perception’s mirrored gateways senses bare

but only if you’re not already there

The Longest Night

fowl all feeling restive swooping squawking

southward air becoming effervescent

hunting wolves begin their silent stalking

calling through the valley to the crescent

coldly curling fingers combing northward

beckoning the moon whose radiating

wreath of light foretells the coming blizzard

woken never needs nor heeds sedating

darkly sits the cabin by the forest

walls awaiting proving shelter surest

Suburban Religious Doctrine

god hates a midnight car alarm

and the delusion of a pastoral life

the street is sleepy dark and tree-lined

the violet night is better silent

Wake

secretive unapologetic fingering

as the answer to a desperate plea

masquerading as a one-time intervention

when mourning the dead it’s important

to have human connection

Tragedy Treasure

side of the marred road 

scattered in the high grass

summer morning bus stop

alluring cubes of window glass

shining lurid bright as stars

vivid in a void black sky

astral condition car collision now

diamonds to a sheltered child’s eye

Brain Work

chess grandmasters burn

three days of calories in one

at a high-stakes tournament

napkin dabbed sweat beaded forehead

nervous lick of a salty upper lip

the tells of strain as the mind chugs

underwear change between matches

avoid the damp outline of ass 

on every cold plastic seat

the brain is a hot engine

wanting the puzzles pieces to move

more than atoms in the universe

Adults At Yuletide

adults at Yuletide are so nonchalant

when we talk to the kids about magic

so the children accept it as commonplace

it’s a given that life is fantastic

and no volume of melt water will cease

a snowman’s glorious resurrection

Good Neighbors

when the end finally came the air cooled 

and cleared so i climbed the dusty rubble 

of the fallen wall and beyond i saw 

the golden field the elms unburled and you 

smiling waving me in tending your garden

Dusk Artist

red light haunts the dusk

the atmosphere paints the sky

my eye is the brush

Your Time

sitting across the table

pieces laid out in plastic

your eyes dark and distracted

from a morning of labor

an afternoon of small talk

this evening you play these games

only because i love it

though you would lay your head down

i want you to know i know

and how i feel so grateful

Arrival Of Night

grassy smell of warm wet streets rises

after afternoon’s cooling summer rain

twilight reclining opens her sky

spilling red and amber honey

across the hazy blue and purple sheets

droplet laden high grass trembles

as through the field 

the breeze whispers vespers

over me sway cascades of flaxen hair

warm breath falling on my face

the single drop of sweat

catches the last light of dusk splashing

the song of night’s coming

as she leans back open-mouthed

letting free a long low moan

Triumph Of The Sun

even as the night extends its grasp 

sol stretches golden fingers on the land

winter bares icicle teeth 

obscures with steaming breath

but against the face of daylight cannot stand