Thursday, December 28, 2017


Sometimes I wish I could stand at a windy bridge,
And let my hair loose,
And let the stars, like so many thousands of sentinals,
Tell me how to feel.
They would disrobe in the dark
Smile at me and say,
"Even your keel,
Take the road,
Leave your sorrows,
Drop your load."
Though, then, even then,
I may cry
That they know so much better than I.
How they are floating but well employed
And I am just a speck of dust
Standing on a bridge.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017


The meadows are all barren,
The gate before them ice:
A blank reminder of the clouds
That bent the fields of rice;
The crows are calling sadly,
The deer have disappeared:
There's pieces of a frozen mouse
Which seems both sad and queer.
The sheds have doors that bang and beat,
Like drums in rushing winds;
There's but a single leaf alive
Which rests with corpsly friends.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

When It Fades

Time is forgotten
Sands and crumbs we drop like pods of cotton,
Shadows that we never could remember,
Frosted panes and empty lanes in late December;
Spring came too soon: flowers bent without a hope of living,
Buds and bees and leaves their spirits giving,
Wishing they could sing another moment...
A moment...
A moment in time.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Your Brand

You weren't anonymous, this I know;
Not the breath of a wind, not a passing glow;
You were not just a footprint in the shimmering sands,
Nor a glint of gold in a distant land.
No, these things could be passed, and none would care,
A shell, a drop, a chip, a hair;
But you were more than empty hands,
And left me like a burning brand. 

Monday, November 27, 2017

Changing Wind

Catch the wind within a hand,
Never let it leave,
Like a thousand grains of sand
Unallowed to breathe;
Favors it will have to get,
Just to stay inside;
Start a trial, take a bet
How long it will abide.
Whisper in its flying ear,
"Hear the autumn come?"
Soon you'll have no loss to fear
Though its voice is dumb.
Catch it, make it stay for life
Feel it every day
It will be a kiss and knife
When the skies are gray.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

From the Drought

I think if I should see the sea,
Then I should also see my soul;
An item both inane and wise,
An ornament both deep and dull.
The foaming breakers are my hopes,
At times they were so commonplace,
But now they draw themselves away
And disappear without a trace.
Should storms arrive, I will agree
That they reflect my downward thoughts;
But I should not be prone to change
The rains that keep me from the drought.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Better Things

Make room for little things,
The lovely things, the sweet good things,
The soft white rain in early dusk,
The butterfly in newborn spring.
Make room for little things,
Those things that soon will fade away;
The laughter that your child brings,
The baby cries that won't long stay.
Though the world is often bitter,
Sad with time and torn from peace;
Make room in your soul for better
Better things will never cease.

Sunday, July 10, 2016


Should I seek the rocky shore,
Torn with the skeletons of the sea,
Ravaged by waves from the ocean floor,
Flecked with the blood from a coral tree;
I should find my soul's dust there,
Thrumming and throbbing within the skies
Spread over captain's nests and men
Laboring hard under light and tide.
Creatures scuttle through damp black homes,
No one remembers their island place;
Such is my mind in the churning foam;
A footprint in sand that leaves no trace.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Rain Wolf

In a flash of light,
In a thunderous crash,
Against the rain's sharp lash;
His teeth a gleaming white,
His fur
A shade like bark
With flecks of night.
A single drop of glittering blood
Upon his tongue,
And on his claws, the sliding mud
From valleys, thickened with the flood.
What cave he came from,
No bird knows,
What mountain, ringed with diamond snows,
What creek he quenched his endless thirst...
Are only known by the grounds he cursed.
Pinnacles crumble, boulders slide;
But his bold black heart may never die.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015


Like silks in the air,
Like pods on the breeze,
Our final words
No eye can see.
The things we said,
Or never did
Are but the sun
When day has fled.
The clouds are dead
The hours gone,
I listen for
The notes of dawn.
I miss your heart,
The heart I knew
The dove that took
Its life and flew.