When April Showers Come Along

sliver of time

thrums shiver of joy.

love song heard,
heart note attuned
striking chord's
flash of illumination.

Divine bridges
river's banks.

sans reason,
contagious rhyme
measured a pulse.

was it yours or mine?

Do Ghosts Leave Footprints

Ghost men have danced throughout my life.
Phantom men waltzing on earthen floor.
I knew them not, though they were there.
I have photos.
Who were these transient, transparent ones?
These creatures of shadow weight whose names I knew.
Rarely fully material,
their interest in me minimal.
Grandfather. Father. Uncles. Lovers.
I knew them not, though they were there.
Envisioned here are my ghosts remembered.
Were unrealized dreams, cached deeply inner space?
What lost boys did you grieve?
Ghost men, where did you hide while alive?
Twilight men, drifting towards slumber,
your sentry duties fulfilled,
thus spanning a Great Wheel's turning.
Ghost men, my own men.
Did you register my curiosity
or only see me as one?
Ghost men, gone long ago gone.
Spectral men dimming at edges.
Ghost men, first men, you were my introduction.
What did you neglect to share?
My recall's fading.
Wait. Wait. Don't go.
Did you sense? Did you know?
Enchanted and beloved Ghost men,
in sleep and sepia,
do I see you still,
fleshed again.

November 2003

neighbors

weft and weave

last week,
ebony feline
strolled by 
through my early a.m.
botanical meandering.
owner of crossing paths was she.

day ago,
woodpecker suggested
I engage unmet neighbor,
who could not see her drumming.
"point me out up here," i hear.
there, atop telephone pole,
tapping tapping tapping
creating smiles among we three.

this morn, on walk,
was brought to bend
by hatchling swallowtail,
shivering
in miserable drizzle.
hitched a ride
it did,
on my finger.
resting now
on purple petunia,
til cleared for lift off.

with six you get hexagon

they are at moment,
fizzing bubbles,
champagne style.
these carl sagan,
'billions and billions'
heart sparklings,
circling round.
i sip their ebb flow.
which one shall be
the wave i catch to surf,
i leave to La Luna's
metallic illumination.

answer for a query

elementals

breezing, air whispers.
a dancing caress of invisible invites.
yes, strand slides upon cheek from tease.
'what?' it asks.
'you define yourself as chignon?'
it smiles at the helmet headed,
lacquered in defense against.

gull song lulls,
i step among broken open,
ground by shifting edges
me and blake share knowing.
glass birthed from heat,
a lightening strike quenched
in liquid salt.
rhythm in pulse,
in repetition
in endurance,
in foam dissolving
into
faceted light.



i took to the open road last august. like salome shedding veils,
i departed desert sands ruthless fire, returning to sirens' call
of craggy coastlines, hydrated beach and redwood elders.

spirals, blues and watercolors are one medium singing
themselves through me currently.

the words are there, standing just off stage awaiting their cue.
fingers are again itching for faces and clay.

as for winged victory, i know her well.
gold miner. gold worker.
i found, i fashioned."