46/365: first hours

in the first hours of morning
they say the mind is soaked
in its own dew.

things are undone in the night:

bows untied, and the ribbon left dangling
from the back of a white dress;

there is a gap in the fence
where slats have been removed -
no twisted nails, rusted heads looking
in all directions -
the weathered wood is just gone.

are your feet wet?
is that a blade
of grass on your toe?
where were you walking to
when I saw/was you in the moonlight?

73/365: blueberry morning

how the year of poems
rolls over into a third year

"lower your standards" is the advice
I give, but have difficulty following

the blueberries cooked black
in my oatmeal
burst with purple blood.

this is a thing I can comment about
all the rest seems too large -
why we exist here on this rock,
why we exist at all.

a comment on blueberries bursting
and no comment on eternity.

71/365: lemon tree

who are you fooling,
with your laughable spines?

as if you could fight,
limbs bowed,
pregnant with fruits.

but you're a tough one, I give you that:
roots drilled into the rock -
the soil you dwell in a layer of volcanic dust.

I stand in your shade and look down
to the ungenerous waters of the sea -

hard men and women have stood here before,
and before, a thousand years,
peeling the yellow rinds
with their calloused thumbs and thick nails
appreciating the miracle you have performed
transmuting sunlight and wisps of moisture.


the juices dribbled from the corners
of their mouths and onto their fingers -
sourness on the verge of sweet
making them wince and smile

at the joke -
laughable
when peeled back.

survive,
and maybe make something beautiful

70/365: I knew you once

I knew you once
your smell
the cadence of your laugh

I brushed my hand
along the inside of your arm -
how your skin was like parchment

the sound of your footsteps
was an anticipation of joy.

Gone you are,
gone now all these years.

67/365: love is a tidal wave

what new thing is there to say

love -

love is like a time bomb
it's like a tidal wave
it's like all these things

it's always new
under the sun

66/365: we came down

we came down from the mountain
where the meager pockets of earth
crimp the juniper roots
and nature forms its own bonsai -
where the sun burns off uncertainty

though our lungs burned
we could see far from the outcrops -
could see promises fulfilled
with no interference
from the murk of atmosphere

here where the foothills begin
the pines do not know the agony
of stingy clouds
and the biting wind -
they grow like ships' masts
in a sheltered port

ahead yet another curve

where either bank of the road
comes together in a vanishing point,
where we must enter shadow -

I wonder if you still know the way

65/365: those of us who set out (published in See Spot Run)

not one of us
who set out
was able to follow the map
we had drawn in our hearts.

not one of us
who set out
has returned whole.

we thought the dragons
in the wine dark sea
were just cartographic illuminations.

resilience is a half smile;
recognition, a proffered hand.

**

Audio: https://anchor.fm/honest-chaos/episodes/Those-Of-Us-Who-Set-Out-erm2l0