ghost

he rose
pure blameless shroud
no shadow

for the sun

the waxwings

In the parking lot
most shoppers
looking down at
black rectangular screens
clouded with

the reflection of
a still wintering tree
laden with last autumn's fruit

hovering
waxwings
six of them
sleek strong
spring ready
and well fed
appear like dark angels
falling to earth

waterlogged - a reproduction

one hundred boats from jutland

suspended

bronze age boat built anew     It sunk.

Old Age

In old age
the tree inverts itself
roots up
drowning in air
while branches
stiffen in the dirt
and
bole
looking down
into the hole
sees
heaven
buried long ago
underground

Old Age

The Dhammapada
says old age without wisdom
makes
withered cranes fish
empty pools.
All the richness
of life
now
dry stones
of some nameless,
easily forgotten
color.

back

I'm back
but here is still, often,
there
and there
is
is
as far back as I can see
as far
as far
gone
as any
other
history
crook.

field

it's cold
deer tracks solid holes
rapeseed flint as the field stones are
splintered, sharp
whiteness
of three teeth
found
in a furrow

post

while there
an owl

afterward
four dreams
clay lamps
stone
boats of oak beech and alder
bronze buttons

stop

work

how much
can be done
as said
as said
but is dead in the water

stunningly undone thing!

needs time to be seen

not a swift sortie
non-parlay
non
non

best
each day to rise and fall
practice making
with eyes working
walking brush
rhythm of pen

work

again.

hold

underneath,
mountains, fresh water valleys
the dark alps, root sky
above
risen
streams, ponds, fens, rivers, seas
hold vessels
seaworthy
floundering
sunken
holds
hold
(held)

too much
too much

practice

the sun
and moon
the pleiades
taught long ago
an astral sea
that with time
seems closer
to that
practice
of rising and falling
to the knees
to sleep
to awareness
each day