Tuesday, June 10, 2014

46

























beyond the mist
lamp-yellow and new
three willows

three years since
and gone still
you will answer, at times
a delicate question
with such an appearance

where are you now?

beyond the mist
lamp-yellow

and you left us, why?

three willows, lit with young leaves
glowing through a slow white morning
and the kingfisher, low
above the shallow
chattering

there is something worth hunting
on the other side

Friday, February 28, 2014

45















poets are a blight
doing nothing
earning less
passing off assonance
as walls built, or posing 
the calloused, but worldly
gardener  (a vain hedge clipper
) all the while begging each new
flight of topiary nonsense
to speak life and make good
the bowed, selfish shapes
dividing the true road from
those warm yellow
windows


Tuesday, January 14, 2014

44


























gone away,

there are walls
through the woods
where pasture yawned

the soft echo of a different green
lingers in hay fern and moss

gone away, love

the barn between the giant maples
reduced to this square
where the floor was poured too well

the loft, vanished between
those velvet fingers of loss

gone away, love, but

there are walls
running from the brook
to the old road

and so often, when walking here
I mean to sing your name

gone away, love, but still 
I mean to sing 




Friday, January 10, 2014

43


























the last island
where the rapids split
elegance and stone
where sycamores rise
mottled gray, the
bones of a writhing valley
that place
all black sand
and

I had a red dog
who on this island
years ago
did long, vicious battle with a coyote
and when it was dead for sure
and buried deep
returned

over and over, to dig up the ribs
its graceful spine
the mask-like, yawning pelvis
and long, sad limbs
forever

we wade the rushing water
to lost islands
and dig




Tuesday, January 7, 2014

42


























so it turns out your fall
was no accident

that nearing the end of the final pitch
you turned, and the beauty below
was greater now than
any above

so you loosened your grip
as we all will, and dropped back
against the deep, wild years

a sweet wind blew across your face

the sun splashed gold
on the endless rock
and that was
that