Sunday, August 24, 2014

Natural Force

The earth shrugs
and beneath the sea
mountains lift shifting waves
driving man
to higher
planes.

Primal force defines
the earth
as we are defined
by the rise and fall
of breath.

Yet contented we live
by the constant sea
as darker oceans
roil deep
beneath our feet,

and transfixed
we gaze as eternal waves,
pounding thrusting stones,
shatter to frothy foam.

No wonder, then,
when deeper lungs exhale,
in terror we flee,
and cry to God
for mercy.


(10/30/2012)

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Crow on a Branch



Crows rise and drop
in the high redwood tree
arguing, competing
to see who would light
on the top-most limb,
as thin branches, bending
under their weight, waver
and bow

when suddenly
one raucous crow
comically falls.

Cawing, the clumsy black bird
beats out his own breeze,
and rises again
to the argument.

(10/19/2010)


    Friday, August 15, 2014

    Peaceful Evening

    Like a dark tower,
    my window looms;

    ebony night waits
    just a step away.

    Deep silence
    consumes empty spaces
    in the tall trees

    where breezes sing
    in the joyful morning.

    My feeble lamp
    can only reach
    a few feet out

    and sets
    the pale grass
    aglow

    as glimmering ghosts
    softly search
    for peace.

    But peace
    can be uneasy


    and stillness signify
    oblivion.

    (9/10/2010)

    Tuesday, August 12, 2014

    The Bridge at Rio Vista

















    The bridge stands low
    over the swollen
    Sacramento,

    black water,
    rushing to
    darker seas,

    hypo-thermal,

    sucking breath
    from the fallen,
    the overboard,

    the suicide.

    Its sturdy stanchions,
    hold fast,

    give refuge
    from the maelstrom,

    a way across

    or a place
    to jump.

    Monday, August 11, 2014

    Mohave



    Rocks carelessly cast
    from granite hills,

    trapped by gravity and time,
    slant skyward,

    knives pointed at the throat
    of heaven.

    Like God’s memory this desert stretches
    beyond our ken.

    Ten-thousand cliffs rise from the level bed,
    of a forgotten sea;

    long ago in steam it rose
    and jet-stream borne,

    races through unmeasured time
    in endless storm.

    Friday, August 8, 2014

    Wisdom



    "She (Wisdom) is in all things like the air receiving the sunlight.  
    In her they prosper.  In her they glorify God.  In her they rejoice 
    to reflect Him.  In her they are united with him. " 
                                                                                           Thomas Merton

    striated layers of time
    rise sharply to the sky, 
    and flatten out 
    against anchoring blue
    ages of rain and wind 
    and pain. 

    we are
    the air receiving sunlight, 
    shattering the long night
    on smooth, warm stone

    we are 
    the morning joy
    of earth, wisdom
    of eternal
    birth.

    Tuesday, August 5, 2014

    Gravity

    We walk secure, grounded, heavy, oblivious,
    safe from perplexing weightlessness,
    unlike Life Savers candies on Atlantis spinning theatrically
    as glittering Las Vegas floats beneath,
    or those rusty spherical droplets
    of Tang, humorlessly drifting over the Indian Ocean;
    we are safe even as Kubrick's treacherous computer,
    tenderly releases the cradled voyager to drift reeling away,
    receding, smaller and smaller, no longer a man,
    a fading star, and then just gone,
    unclaimed even by the false gravity
    of his mother-ship.

    Yes, we are safe because she holds us tightly, binds
    us with unseen, loving coils, lest we range to adventures
    too high, too dangerous,
    too unnatural;
    the bungee jumper, skydiver, snowboarder, eventually all learn
    her love is costly,
    and even tired, timid professors shudder
    when top floor classrooms into basement labs fall;

    then, with violent, jerking movement,
    her jealous love pulls us, prize seed all,
    into the deep, cool soil of newly furrowed cities,
    Chendgu, Port-au-Prince, Santiago, Christchurch,
    San Francisco,

    and Gravity, jealous lover, finally claims us as her own when
    in the recesses of our graves we wait,
    germinal, for the static earth again
    ardently to quake.