my Becky

au Canada (for Sage, and Paul)

not all prayers are answered

yet
the bell that is our body
still rings

not every breeze is scented
nor is the grass green
yet

the horizon
rolls on forward
as we walk

our next breath
rushes in
without thought

the seeds
of last year’s wishes
burst and rise

as if we could float up from the sea
on their wings

to the silent ice
of Canada
the edge of space

where summer never sets

swans jumping off seawall

now is this silly, or what?

chicken dreams

all is not well

more deadly than a flock of hawks
are those low
spreading structures
covering the horizon

all is not well
with those countless
eclipsed stars
connected to my heart

pure soft souls
never tempted by
the eye of a rooster
the flash of a grasshopper
a race to the prey

in my dreams we march, a million strong
to peel the moon's
dead shadow
from the sun

each egg a grenade
an exploding galaxy of light

transformed
out of rainwater pools
and grasshopper wings

from the world inside each worm

mostly mosses

click on the photo to see it larger

mosses and lichens (for Percy, who'd rather not)

what is there to say
about our low population

flat as a beaten rug
short as a day
in your distracted mind

while overhead
we spread our banner
of velvet

a warning
out of shadow and dew

to those stiff stones
crushed and held together
with tar

one step only
away from soil

as boulders in centuries before

who have felt
our green clasping fingers

and are now
sand
in the endless drifting sea

peony bed

so many ways to stop time

so many ways
to stop time

that trickles down
like water
through a starry colander

onto the inert
snoring earth

upon which we
experiment
chirping a new melody

to the small flock of
molecules
that flutter
in and out of our arms

distracted
from their forward motion

into a swarm
of skittering jewels

leaves under water

baby steps to the soul

love
you have found my fingers

when will you take
my hand

brushing back
the curtains of the night

when will you take
this wind

that whips endless circles
under my feet

the transparent moon
caught in my hair

the light that pulls towards you
from my open fingers

the song that follows
your trail
of notes

spiky fish

beauty

beauty
drinks fire
with its eyes

slaps you
with soft paws

holds your head
gently
in its jaws

beauty
will strip you
like meat

kick you
inside
stop your breath

dangle you
on a thread of wonder

before
skin heals
and bones mend

beauty waits
to strike again

rose and bud

knowing

the moon was not
alive
until it hung in the sky
crosswise like a crooked
smile

but then everything
slid
like folded silk
--your hand over mine

fleeting and small
as the squeak
of a chipmunk
squeezing invisibly
between boulders

and the moon
that rocks its
silly head
full of knowing

hot red dianthus

flag on the hill

you move
and every curve of your colors
tips my heart

as if the wind
that pulls your straight lines
into a dance

was whispering
my thoughts
in ripples

barberry

thunder

purring inside your belly
thunder is
a restless thing

eyes flashing
backbone arching over the sky

tail melting through the clouds

thunder is
a tender thing
surrendering

swallowed whole by the night

Esopus creek behind trees

mountain

you beckon
like smoke
from a winter fire

your heart of coals
glowing under the smooth trunks
of swaying trees

drawing me into
your tangled hair
skin of shadows

moving as I move
resting your infinite mass
inside my small arms

upstream

the road home

when I laughed
and the wind blew you upward
out of your shoes

when you turned
surprised by the flicker
of a falling twig

by the soft notes of a river

when your feet
suddenly bare
touched the grass

why were you ashamed
of not knowing
that the road home

is just a turn of the head