Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Evening Meditation

Our apple tree is exuberant tonight,
its white blossoms flare within emerald shades
of our big cottonwoods,

and the flashing red finch descends
busy among the bursting white flames,
when suddenly, by a small boy enraptured,
it poses as the guardian halcyon.

Love in April is like this,
measured in flashes
of red wings in trees
and scored in lines of
molten sunlight, pouring
through our knotty fence
into the silky darkness
of our star drenched night


Saturday, August 27, 2016

It Happens


I can see it coming,
small in the distance
just a spot at first,

but I know
it's coming for me
sure-air, clear
frame my soul,
on my languid pen

til, joyfully I bolt
for the house, tear
through dark rooms,
turn on my dim light,
and breathlessly wait
for the poem
to strike.

Friday, August 26, 2016

Lament for the Children of Syria

I do not seek you
where the children peer
into the burning night;

fire, false dawn
consumes their eyes,
rages through thin skin.

I do not know
where you go when
the gas softly flows
through the shelter;

have you left us here
in this veil of tears, fear-
full and alone?

Oh, where may I seek you
but in this green shade
of whitened bone?

(1 Oct 2013)

Monday, August 22, 2016


Sit in dark rooms
as Fox news
that the President
is really from Mars,
hell-bent on preventing
our Saturday-nights
from being

We have the Constitutional right
to carry death
like a flask
in our hip pockets.

But this foreigner
wags his black finger
and calmly spews
like spit
on our red necks.

So the plan is to wait
until the day
all these bleeding hearts
are dropped, one by one,
by lone

and in the end,
alone in our darkness,

(9 April 2011)

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Soft July

days when you are gone
are silent

except for the rush of wind
in our apple tree.

See how the fruit hangs
heavy, pulling low
the branches;

so I’ll wait in the shade
of soft July
and think
of you.

(9 July 2014)