somewherein the biofield farmhands announce you buttery blondeand sweet Mcintosh apple blushthey gather around your crib of turfand hail you the prince of the underground they revered you the well-rounded one
natural world
Prince of the Underground
somewherein the biofield farmhands announce you buttery blondeand sweet McIntoshapple blush they gather around your crib of turf and hail you
Humpbacks 2
Before the finneddinosaurs of the icydepths were disappointed bythe steamships of men, they casttheir ballads into the velvet abyss, waiting as mothers do with untamed hearts, big as school buses
Promise of Spring
My snow dirtied mind, squandered with rain and dirt,is ready. These ancient trails call my nameand I am ready. To be alone in a temple of deep space, my cardinal ears are ready. Where there is no religion but God and sun and land and the scent of boiled arrowroot,gathering on my neck and chest, I am ready.I am ready.
Encounter on the Moose River
Startled by steps –that New Balancebounce – loud asBoeing jets glidingthrough the metallicclouds of a perfectaloneness, a blueheron hides betweentwo teal wings, foldingand glittering, holdingits eyelids near theflowing stillness of ariver, bare and abundant.
The Call
comes when you are waitingfor the shower and disinfection, and when you reach the bottom of the sinkwithout clothes, shoes, or even hair. The call comes when you are baptized with a number. The numbers told everything. For they told the world, in particular, how yourefused to let yourself live without its sorrow. A blessing that […]
Blue Mountain II
Anointed by the elements you are my blueeyed mountain jewel, my empty breeze returning togreet the lips of a valley asleepin the sky
We Need the Soil
because the roots are a gorgeouscatastrophe of gargling raindrops those empty diamond shaped facescontaining the dreams of elderberries because she fills earth’s basket with the black resinous warmth of grandmother’s hands breaking the ruby white stalksof rhubarb and celery, reenacting each contagious morningthe cherished dew of midnight’s tears as the wild and mischievousrhythms of eternity nears
Olympic
Chinook salmon chant on sandstone intestine-intuition in an agebefore teachers they emanatefrom the roots of the Naupakalike sea spray
Sunset Over Henderson Harbor
She handed me the egg sprayed in blooded paint between the bones, slowly and meticulously, even perilously and the egg, in her fingers (if one could call them that) reminded me of the sun accused and oozing below a fluorescent indigo horizon sandblasted, with chocolate shadows on the cheeks of homes congregated on the rocky […]