Thursday, March 21, 2019

the stream
that spring
was lost
to imperfect us

your
ashes
guarding my attention



Thursday, March 14, 2019

Friday, March 8, 2019

This woman
of
bramble and stone
lives alone
as though she
simply
waking, walking
extends
hours to prayer
there
along roads
of stones and birds.
Her feet without shoes
listen to the ground.
The sound
of voices may scare her.
There
where she
lives this
goddess
of the
sun
is
one
who
prays
alone
stays to
warm us

Monday, March 4, 2019

if I could tell of something now
but sleep
still
there are birds in the trees
knees that we recite a ssongs
along with mandarins and snow

winter's indigenous

I know said the snow

Friday, February 8, 2019

eye of the storm


he
lifts
then
drops.

below,
cries,
snow.

suddenly
blurred
this bird's
swept
into me.

alarmed,
we embrace
facing

see
both are
golden-eyed

awed

as each
in this,
not one
but us.







Monday, February 4, 2019

for kevin

grey rain
drowns
snow

below my feet
dropped yellow
chrysanthemums

yellow chrysanthemums
are out of season.

yet today they
stay in my mind
when
I think of you.

this grey.

not as that sun that day.

white, white
walls
the brilliance
surrounding
the fade that had been you.

slender petalled chrysanthemum,
a flower that endures frost,
lost,
that winter.

yellow turning shadows violet.

grey ash, brown sere.

yet you are here -
white
white
nothing -
a yellow flower
that died,
alive,
on the wrong side
of cold.