Crows in a Stubble Field

Along the tracks

in this field of straw,
tawny stubble
cut down by indifferent,
efficient hands,

I see sentient crows,
black shadows scrutinizing
lifeless stalks
like careful surveyors,
reclaiming this savaged world,

when, blaring, the train
shatters the air and scatters
the redeeming birds
into black angry clouds,
cawing into the twilight sky.

Wolf Moon

2013 (Richard Barnhill via Flickr)

the wolf moon rising

hard, red, sure

black night’s

bloody core.

The Modesto SWAT Team Waits in Violent Weather

Violence is essentially wordless, and it can begin only where thought and rational communication have broken down.  Thomas Merton

unquiet night
sky rushing
past peace
past even
the thrill
of anger

howling clouds
slowly twist
to darker thoughts
and drop
mute ice
on lavender fields
on lilies, white and life-
less.

In Whispering Woods
his mind snaps.
He fires off rounds
of death,
and, wordless, waits
for the ice.

Day and Night

Bright shield, blue sky
conceals the broad universe
with brilliant ruse of
solitude.

Jealous sun
brooking no lesser lights,
tells us
that we’re all alone.

Up to the sun
you may cast your gaze,
but hide your eyes
with fingers splayed
or dazzling day
to inner darkness will fade.

But as the tyrant sun declines
look up again, and you will find
how luminescent night
strips away blue day’s
bright lie of “same”

and dagger stars
pierce
the milky silk
of outer-space.

Radiant Day

radiant day,

gentle winds

blow away

all raw weather

as skies dive deep

into blue ponds  

while above in barren trees

the young sun

strokes small branches,

and emergent buds wait

for the green season.

once it begins

once it begins

i cannot stop

nor would i wish to

end the torrent of words

crush of photons

bright weight of day

driving dark worlds

through eternal space

trains howling

poems careening

through silver morning

where i sing

out my

warning