Saturday, June 19, 2021

Time Folding


time folding

like the slow fan

of a weary Samurai 

sitting, rocking                                                      

               on the shore

                             of his drunken sea

its waves washing and rolling

              a sand hidden small slipper

                             once silk pink, now torn grey

   the Samurai nods and sleeps

               the tide recedes leaving its message

                             under the cover of a billion stars


LC

Thursday, May 27, 2021

Bird Watching

 

the jay yells at me and leaves

we have looked at each other long enough for him

but not for me

 

I have questions

instead of answers I get

a strong wind

shaking the maple leaves

bending the tall skinny pines

creating a navigation feat

              for little gray birds

                  going at top speed


this is a very windy place where I live

 

L.C.

 

Friday, May 14, 2021

 

Mule Deer

 

words floating

dandelion parachutes

for the slippery minds of poets

holding time

to remember

strong soft ears turning

hearing lulling beats

of dragonfly wings

wonderstruck

huge brown eyes

wild hearing

my laughter through thick walls

flying over the fence

and lost

and I have flown too far

for you to hear

for me to see

 

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Rengetsu’s Rabbit


making a path
across the wild grass
she cuts calligraphy
now, now, now

I am here
like the stars
here, yet, yet
long gone




Sunday, February 4, 2018

now this, old age
where white grasses crackle
in a frosty wind

At Shevlin Park


the Deschutes River
makes a turn across his own Burren
one he’s been carving out for centuries
slowly, with ice cracking tiny chunks of rock
slowly, chiseling with water flow
little pockets echoing duck quacks,
animal tracks, then water plants
and me, like a leaf here and gone
downriver
 to the vast Colombia
downriver

to the wide-open sea

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Moon Psalms

the night is not empty
it is full of white deer
floating moon psalms
sent to comfort me
and to praise love
the love I sent them
passing through the garden
the love I’ve had and still
keep close
and momentous tides
pulled by the blue-white moon
so close, so gentle now

willamette writers

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