Don’t Touch!

This love’s a testy thing bristled for defense against the world and pain: we give up ground for every gain– we go around, around– aground again… My friend, I see you there crouched along the spiral’s inner curve; I wish I could reach in and touch your heart but every nerve you own is raw– …

Love’s Not Always Pink

Love’s not always pink–It’s what you feel and livenot what you think.Sometimes it’s what you giveor are allowed to takeor nothing you can havefor someone else’s sake. Love’s not always song–its voice not always heardor clear and strong.Sometimes it’s just absurdand makes no kind of senseOr it speaks without a word,has neither rhyme nor tense. …

Raw: Summer Creek

Silt settles in the summer creekover hard-wedged woodand the largish stubborn stoneslaid bright and barewhen vernal torrents raged:ripped raw the bed,tore out old banks,walkwaysand little bridges–wild waters shattered, scattered… Recut pathwaysand the landscapein the violence of season’s change. The sun is warm now glimmering over the water where leafy branches gaze and tease the eye:The …

SUMMER THUNDER

Heat comes after the cool of morning down out of a clear blue skythat reaches upwards towards forever. Land bakes underoven-air that parchesgrass and flower,sears the souland wearies hearts and limbs. Over the mountainsbuilding toweringdarkening clouds confoundthe sunbright heatlift windsfling lightning boltsand grumbleand deluge at lastto bludgeon flowersinto the sudden mudbut the grasslikes it. Passing, …

California Summer

Summer heat– sweet relief in darkened hall beneath the fan, the rumbling wind, the storm that blew the cool all through the house… I’d catch a chill and die, they claimed. Disbelieving, driven out to play, I’d wait another chance… Summer feet– freed from socks and kedsnot always sufficiently aware of bees among the clovers …

4-Hour Night

Morning creeps in,My head is not ready for it.It glows against the mountainagainst the quiet cloudstinging all things goldenas they brighten to full day… I am not readywanting the landscapes stillof dreamsof downy comforter and bedpillowing my headin sleep, dayless,consciousless… Slowly, relentlesslyday pushes outthe shadows of the house;world sounds,the silence of the head and house… Body nags its …

Homestead

It was spring  and everything was new–Life and love and everything, and everything we planted grew!The door you’d made was open wide,the scent of new wood on the airthat brought the warmth of spring insideand stirred your soft and tawny hair… Summer came  and baby’s laughter rangthrough the vine-thick upper frame,and all the lullabies I sangwhile lower, …

Mystic Whispers:The Wreck of the Faery Galleon

A sailor stands on a quiet deck in the still of a peaceful night–He suddenly sees, like a cobweb-dream, a galleon of faery-light, riggings of gossamer, translucent and pale, looming up high to port. Silently sailing, as if quite alone, as if no more solid than thought– wonder and marvel, afloat on a sea as …