Shimmering Pebbles in the Light Stream
and
...a meteor shower of words in this early evening
after brief sprinkles
trembled jittering—
caught on our wet van windshield--
wisp-feather dust splat
1st pub. in Stylus Poetry Journal
seashore
under sea gulls kiting,
molten froth waves rolling in—
we hot-foot beach sand
1st pub. in a handful of stones
horse trailer rattles
past curved eucalyptus leaves--
they skit in gutter
1st pub. in Lyrical Passion Poetry,
then Stylus Poetry Journal,
and Poetry Pacific
a trail of dashes
translucent on dull red brick
night’s telltale caller
1st pub. in 4 and 20 Poetry
Moon River
She knocked the hat off my heart
Not just because I paint
In pastel and oil,
But because of her Basho splash--
Wet-sounded for life from head to foot.
1st pub. in Ascent Aspirations,
also, Poetry Pacific
rain drip-drizzles down
against our foggy window--
blowing my wet nose
1st pub. in vox poetica
harvest field
ogre marshmallows
under the blue oz of sky--
plastic-wrapped hay bales
1st pub. in Full of Crow
rain water on oil
red and blue swirls on blacktop--
a peacock's feather
1st pub. in The Stylus Poetry Journal
Crossing Shimmering Streams
into Dusk and
Stars
fall back to autumn
treetops blazing gold
with the last light of this day--
we lift our eyes
maui’s markers
on narrow sunny beach,
flashy cars crowd up against
withered gravestones
black manta ray
into the murk—steel descent
stinging death to weeds
1st pub. Lyrical Passion Poetry
walking the night
saplings blacken along
my waking path in the misted night,
a refracted light sky over
wrought iron candelabras
on stands
lamping damp
in the coastal evening/on the coast
1st pub. in Writer’s Ink
surreal morning
bulky morro rock f l o a t s
heavy above the narrow gray
ocean fog strata of sedimentary air
while below the ocean's soapy crashing
churns combustible froth
and advances up our shore sand
high overhead, orange the sun;
and the heavy
floating ghost ship
1st pub. in Erbacce Print Journal , U.K.
california dazing--
summer
ground mists, chilly gloom
living on west’s ground-fogged coast--
wearing my snow coat
fall
palm branches flutter
while other trees’ leaves wind-fall
down on dry/dying grass
winter
rain-jade bluffs
6 leaves unfallen on our elm?
no! wrens flit
from branch
spring
weeping tree saps down
drips red glop on our van’s roof--
then birds poop splats
Playing blues on my keyboard--
picking out despair
on pixel
strings
Up Early
In the gray-hazed dawn
Pale light blossoms
Softly explode from a violet tree
Rising by a jade-green hedge
Birdsong morning
1st pub. n Mississippi Crow
Print Magazine
seashore
warped fence boards in sand
lean askew toward green windbreak--
old gnarled cypress
1st pub. in Idlewheel Literary Friction
divergent learning
After our oldest son comes down serious
On the hard-won aisle and receives his diploma,
His flat mortarboard capped on his head
Its long green tassel hanging down to his nose,
Our struggling 7-year-old comes up grinning
Into the crowded study of our home with a manual,
His large iguana sitting perched on his head
Its green-threaded tail hanging down to his chin—
Look, Dad, I’m a graduate.
1st pub. in Abandoned Towers
and in outwardlink.net
beach town
swaying date palms
on the white-housed street
swaying date palms feather-dusk
sky’s fading crimson
1st pub. in Stylus Poetry Journal
winter honeymoon
ice melts
clear splashes on the teak matt--
our heat,
‘tinder’
intense caresses,
slushious kisses
gull wings
lightly spraying over gray clod fields
6-year drought--
so ‘irrigating’!
Night Watch Psalm
Walled granite
Moonlight
One mile
Down
Below the rocked rim
In the rusted Canyon
Rushing Colorado
River russet copper;
Nearby in the evened dusk,
I lay ‘stilled,’ a silent psalm
In the shine
Of that lighted granite
Eyes wide in the dawn
Of that Night
1st pub. In The Cherry Blossom
Review
Perspective
Moments flash
Like falling meteors--
Precious glories,
I miss
Because I pine for that remote quasar
Whose light taunts--
Starred fixation, yet it burned out
Many millenniums ago--past
Light years
Gone
Misplaced?
Lost?
Seek the moral compass
Round this world ringed
Compassioned--
Don't pass by on the other side;
Be passionate
And encompass
Love's Sphere
Found.
1st pub. by Diminuendo Press,
Dark Energy Poems book
Outside the Limit
Working Thursday's graveyard shift
At 7-11, I stock cold shelves, of 'cours'
Then write a college essay on Dreiser"s
Claim, "Life is thin surface, all negation;"
But alert in that alone night, I reflect
While beyond the store glass, the parking lot
Lies vacant, lit by neon signs and street lights--
Then unexpectedly my mind transports.
My inner self somehow rises up above
My body sitting down there between rows
Of stacked cans and jars; see/observe my ego,
Skin, and skull; envision far beyondness
Am flood-immersed in wondered awe,
Vividly aware, blissful beyond words,
Luminous endless care, blessed all-encompassing
Exalting surpassing transcendent becoming.
1st pub. In Flutter Poetry Journal, then
The Mindful Word, and poetry book
Psalms, Yawps, and Howls
Cape May Light
Back then
Her young wedding eyes glistened
More than the prismed Fresnel lens
That centered our lives
On the Jersey shore;
She's a Keeper.
1st pub. in hotmetalpress.net
starlight
when one doesn't
see the dark
awake
at dawn
upending my camping mug
for a drink,
but no water slurp;
empty--
wait!--a gray web’s net
laces
rim to rim;
and below,
hides its dark spider
silently dwelling
humming attack
wearing my fiery red shirt
for Christmas, I open our
sliding glass door;
sudden jolt in front
of my startled face--
a flash of feathers hum-buzzes,
darts within inches of my eyes
but then away, it flits left
back to that flowering bush
along our fence--
me a reject
yellow-beaked birds perch
on the wind-shifted branches
clamorous squawking
Our Catnap
Underbelly slurps juice from
Our empty crab can, lickety-split
Leisurely indulges in a foot n’ chops rinse
Then his forward paw,
Stretches to its feline limit--
Floodlighted by morning shine--
Contorts to nap my left socked foot;
Lazing man-napper.
And me, his waiter and footman
The Space Clown
When caught in
The romantic comet
Of the moment,
I touched her pixied face
And said,
I wish I could make love to
You on 3 million different planets
All at once;
She pixeled a look so scientific
And said,
Oh, don't clone around
with me
1st pub. In Right Hand Pointing
and Abandoned Towers Magazine
White-capped wind roars around
Huge volcanic buttes swimming north
Off Oregon's coast
Like asymmetrical gray whale giants
Leaving splashing trails of white water
Behind in the slate green ocean
Yes, waves churning around
Those behemoths, frothing
1st pub. in The Houston
Literary Review
in my morning bowl
adhering to wet
blue berries--
a wispy white
feather
cambria fire
green vines wind up fences
bursting with succulent grapes--
but dusted in ashes
starbacked
starbacked night, coffee-drunk sky:
rows of cars metal
at the red orb,
anonymous
a lone skateboarder foot-struts,
waits for the flash of sage green
his board-wheeler a bill of adding
getting a toehold
from the faceless
hidden in their dark glass
street cars
fathomless
when all dreams night
into marred
perception
1st pub. In The Clockwise Cat
a time for…
In the fall a time for springing
childhood,
festivals of Monet-splashed leaves
that my sister and I raked and piled high
in the deep ditch in front
and jumped down
softly crashing into,
and our large garden behind the parsonage
with pumpkins, melons, and withered corn rows...
and lightning bugs on the wane,
flashing on and off
full of fall...
Ah, Bird Poop Van
Ah, bird poop van,
there in the far corner of the fast food lot
where wind-blown paper congregates,
and you squat against the curb,
a rusted Ford Econoline home,
spattered with a thousand puked starbursts
of smell on your dull finish,
a metal fadedness of has been.
Your owner in his tourist-trash hat
and long dirty hair hanging to his collar,
squats on the splattered grass,
Grizzled before his future demise,
a throwback to Ashbury
where he used to panhandle.
He sits with his wilted wildflower
in her faded jeans splotched with patches,
sipping their mocha coffee on the matted grass;
They're wary for the squad car to cruise by again,
and roust them out of their corner nest
under the gilded arches.
But, oh, old Van, you rest and rust so easy–
at least there are no more fowl in sight.
1st pub. in The Bicycle Review,
also, in amphibi.us, Dead Snakes,
and the poetry collection book, selah river
A Psalm of Late Life
Pessimist of my oldering years
Preyed upon by lamentable loss
I find no balmy psalms to lyre,
But after discovered liars
Only this harp
Of yawps and howls;
I pray for transcendence,
This
my modern yelled holler
My psalm of life end's exit,
Dance in this sorrowing
Starred night
bidingTimeabiding
bite my teeth on famous lines
a hole lot of fragmented shells;
hunger hollows within--
deepening abyss
of lost longing
lone-ranging, reigning the distance
of a round heartless night
of a round heart-last light
lane-ranging, raining the day-stance
of last longing
steepening a-bless
wonder hallows within--
a whole lot of fragranced ‘shalls’;
bide my heart on famous lines
1st pub. in Dead Snakes Poetry
late afternoon
our van tires roll home
over dark elm trees stretched long,
but where are the bumps?
1st pub. in Haiku Journal
Of that Whittier night,
Snowbound-less
Schmoozing
Honeymooners
Lasted, ever
Snuggling within
His large parka,
Smooching deep,
Below that maple tree
dying leaves fluttering
scarlet
oaks, and aspen into glory
Sierra Hiker
Golden trails, loving strands
I follow with my eyes;
Radiant smile, glowing face
Lighting away my shadows;
Diligent hands, plying fingers
Latticing strew moments into art
Fruitful tree, slender body
Open to me, enclosed to us;
Caring heart, giving spirit
Surprising gifts daily to me.
1st pub. by Diminuendo Press,
Dark Energy Poetry
Book
Lips touch –harmony
life giving moments
of peace-communion
black crow atop pine
bobbing up and down his head
caw-cawing the cold
eye-widening stone
brilliant sheened
pastels bold in faded sunlight
this wondered rock garden
Of deep-time
lines, no white shirts but
birds black in a row clothes-pinned
to the telephone wires.
1st pub. in Idlewheel Literary Friction
red hair of his wife
flickering in the hot wind,
glowing bed of fire
1st pub. Ink Sweat and Tears
crinkly gray strands
in his black brush of bristles--
approaching heir time
1st pub in Ink, Sweat, and Tears
sun in east
fog rising in west
horizon-faded jean sky
watercolor washed
old mail route
abandoned despite
postal service's past claim--
"neither rain nor sleet-snow:"
no longer their trusted carrier
but empty, idle, deserted
vacant slow-snailed mail box
has-been
ex-friend
