In Arching Waters

In arching waters

the black bird dances

with graceless step,

head jerks, probing soft soil,

penetrating wet grass

when rearing back primitive eyes

it raises ivory beak

and offers a shining prize,

living, writhing.

captive

to mother-sky.

(4/28/12)

Winter Tree

Photo Brian Federle: Desert Tree, Palm Springs, 2016

The winter tree 

does not move.

Its wide trunk 

plunges into graven earth, 

unseen roots, grasping hands

feel deeply the living soil,

hold firm anchorage

against the coming storm,

but rising wood, thin

though strong enough 

to paint slender lines, 

trails into purer air, 

gives shelter

to Christmas birds.

They hunch on stems, quietly

waiting to sing open 

the dawn.

(12/23/2011)

Modern Parable

The evil one

believes that he alone

lives in paradise.

He sees his gold and marble halls

fat tables groaning under

feasts unshared,

worships the idol

in the mirror

and he smiles;

whereas the saint 

labors in hot vineyards, 

wipes brows burned by 

the risen sun, 

creases the fertile earth

and with wrinkled hands

fills the bowls

of the poor,

and God smiles.

(2014 March 23)

 

Wildfire in Paradise

The burnt sky of

Paradise, drifts

towards the sea.

On acrid breezes

ashes fall —

promises scattered

and consumed,

as the sun —

its dark,

bloody husk,

exposed at last —

hangs, ruined.

11/11/2018

America

Deep thunder shakes this warm July evening
and lightning flashes over the waterfront
filling the clear, starry sky with acrid clouds and glimmering rain
falling to the water as children gaze
in shock and awe,
waiting for the next big one to explode.

False bombardment as celebration:

such fits my nation, founded in genocide and slavery,
this nation baptized in the blood and tears
of Navaho and Cherokee and all the tribes of the American holocaust
a nation that devoured one quarter of its sons
in four short, blood-soaked years; my nation,
a nation of efficient bigots and hungry hypocrites,
giving the world Gettysburg and the Trail of Tears
as models for problem-solving;
a nation unlike any other, not able to live up to its promises
because no other nation dares make such promises.

The bright violence of rockets' red glare lights our sky
like the bold Declaration ignited the world, and thunder
rocked mighty kings from complacent belief in their divine rights,
rocked the people of Europe, thirsting for their own rights
and land and a chance to pursue a little happiness;
yes, rocked even distant Asia, deep in its ancient dream
foolish men joyfully following the distant thunder
to seek the fabled Golden Mountain.

The promise was made and broken and made yet again,
and the anger of betrayal torched the cities of the sixties,
and singed our hearts
and in the redeeming pain of change
made them a little less impure.
Yes, we are imperfect,
but we know our sins
and pay for them over and over again,

and to remind ourselves of the debt yet unsatisfied,
every summer we celebrate in the only way fitting for such a nation;
In the starry sky fiercely glowing with liberty -
in the transcendent thunder
of the Promise.

(4 July 2011)