Spread on the seagrass, curved as fishing knives, the cards of my past arrive unexpectedly, three swords piercing the heart, the only organ that won’t bleed to death, while the sleepy moon turns its encrusted eyes from molten tears falling on the gray, blushingcheeks of a corpse. I am no knight, but no one said I was. I am no devil either, although some declare […]
existentialism
A Definition of Bliss (for Joseph Campbell)
In this land of a quick and unexpected death, where the air is almost wet enough to drink,I am merely seeking an experience of being alive, my best and only religion,the music of tiny, bare footsteps splashing.
Birding
Fragile, shalehands holdthe womb wilderness isborn The CosmosWalleyed PikesJune nights andthe call of Loons Everything thatwe need to dream To feelTo love So littleseparatesus from whatwe need The nightyou wereborn Wearing the skin of God The worldwas born My new Cosmos And by the timeit was written even Green Heronin the cool spring marshcould tell me
The Lost Part of the Human Brain
(Inspired by Terence McKenna) Glaciers are new. The home star arrivinglater than we sensed. Summoned. The sunoff the main sequence. An arc out of here.
Elegy for Nirvana
Signless and aimless,I have come to accept that I amwho I amlooking for. I am already what I havesearched for. As the master taught: Barn’s burned down- now I can see the moon. What do I see when the moonlooks at me? The memory of my muscles aching for you to see me. […]
Out of Reach
In the stewed rhubarb flesh of the bay’s earliest fog, the water birds are undetermined. Birth and death. Nothing is attached for long.
First, We Must Go to the Edge
First, we must go to the edge of the world A place that can not be found by traveling a straight line. For to look down over the edge requires more than eyesight.
Birds of Prey
“Most people are onthe world, not in it” Muir said that so long ago but he was wrong Most people are outsidethe world, doubting they know how to be among it Riding under a hawk’s wingsthe air forgets what it means to be useless
NO
Frost on the ground,Condensation on the window.Maybe something brittlebroke along the way; I’ve learned there’s no such thingAs a perfect triangleAnd now there doesn’t seemThat much to say. Between seasons,Colours indistinct,Painted life in shadesNot quite of grey, No stone to be castBetween guilt and innocence,And now there doesn’t seemThat much to say. Water on the […]
I Exist
I am garbagewhite trash a categoryother than my skin I am wastedall of the time with the passing of the centuries a fruitfly intriguedby love