LOBSTERS ON PARADE

Across the abyssal plain,in waters weighted with the entire oceanand as utterly black as night can be,lit only by the thrashing sparking flaringof creatures bizarre by any notionof ourselves, the lubberly kind… Across these heavy deepsin measured tread of little feet crustacean,they march, determined in their questwith thoughts in mind, if there is any thinking,of …

THE MAGIC HOUR  a sonnet of art and age

Stare not at the Sun, we’re oft reminded,But in the Magic Hour, as the Poets tellEyes can gaze and be not blinded–The day’s work’s done, for good or ill. The Farmer comes home from the field,The Baker from the baking;The Vintner casks the final yield,The Maker ceases making… The Magic Hour, the Artist cherishes–The Hour …

Autumn Storm

The earth does what it doesand always has– Storm bellowing,Flood rushing,And the reeds bend;Trees sway and sometimesgo roots up;The waters wildsweep the landforgetting former bankserasing damsthe diligent beaver built. _____________________ The tempest swoops inoff the oceanwhere it trained,charging like a heavyweightout of his corner,Knocksthe ancient weather vanea-tizzy,sets the ponies running in the wind;Slapsthe last of …

THE STALKING

The thing I hunt,it lurks in every shadowthat ever consumed a human soul:In crevices and pits and fensit hides, and snarls softly–knows I’m here…I hear it breathing, very near, and I am ready–must be ready for it–when it rages upand out from pit and fen–to cast my spear, my spell–I mean to conquer and compel! …

In Praise of Patience

I was cold in the morning, shivering,but I knew the day would warmwith the rising sun. Hearts broken by humankind unkind, humanity inhumane,we bear the meanessof our worldsplodding on, plodding on… between the shadows castby obstacles half-seen,mistaken,misinformed,misunderstood–we go on seeking truth with our broken hearts. Beset by grief,taught guilt and shameand fear by all its names, even so we …

Next Time…

Next time, I want a lifein more dimensions.Not just for- and backwards,Not bound so tight to time.I want to livenot only walking on the earthbut soaring, eagle-high,or flitting among leaves and boughs, or swiftly coursing distancesbetween the trees, the rooftops,the ledges of great canyons, coasting on warm rising airs… Or I will live more slowly,cruising …

It’s A Dry Heat

A dry heat crackles,parches the pale and spiny desert.In the red-rock landsof colossal cloudsthat stride the sky like gods–lit with sunlight, shadows, sometimeshearts aflash with lightning glowsand casting the colored laughterof rainbows in curtainsthat never touch the ground. Warm, essence of sage and mesquite on the air… Dry heat shatters:The storm, relentless,a vivid line between …