Tuesday, April 1, 2014

At Dudley's

red and orange
almost crystal, a chandelier
enjoying itself
    among used books
    loved and softened

verses flying
guys reading their poetry
muscle letting go
    no, not the phoenix Rilke
    women stunned at his feet

but skiing, hiking men
exhaling pondies and juniper
shaped by the Cascades
    land shaped poetry
    water cut, canyon poetry

in the full cafe
applause weaves us together
and coffee and chai
    laughing at the brightness of it
    nothing lonely, nothing dark

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Nonet 1: Rabbit

His poem hit rocky consonants
flowed over sudden waterfalls
into a short shaded peace
only to be running
from the owl's sharp claws,
shifting to a slow
gear, quite low
breathing
home.

 


Challenge by
Creative Bloomings
Nonet = beginning w/ nine syllables
diminished by one each line

Monday, March 17, 2014

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Sensing Lulu

the loss that passes by
ghosts of smaller souls
cats, dogs even,
    low, behind chairs
they would, if they could
    touch me again
and I can't quite hold
the pastel smoke of their presence
just a glimmer, a tiny sentence
then their little music fades

Sunday, March 2, 2014

somewhere a sanderling

a wall of ocean fog
reveals only a tip of tall black pine —
somewhere a sanderling
scouting the torn
edges of the sea

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

grey-brown fog

grey-brown fog
fence posts lean against their wires
this silent winter road

I am imagining Tai Chi
hands brushing clouds, bringing  sunlight

Friday, February 21, 2014

Raccoon Night

Night walked in masked
    like a fat raccoon
knowing the neighborhood
    self-satisfied, owning
back trails through the canyon
    where the deer can’t climb.
This was no thief but an owner
   of half the world where
footfalls are very quiet.
    But he was hungry
slow, silver-grey searching,
    a child of the rising
moon.

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