Poetry & Prose
Presence
I am not discontinuous with the mountain, with the forest, with the sea. They are not out there. I am not in here. I have been taught a divisive language as if my eyes were windows look out - [there] look at - [that] look in - [here] I make a mental effort to...
The Candidate
To be sheltered among echoes and mirrors, that’s what the candidate wanted, no hard shiny surface silent, reflected image, resounded voice. In the crowd, the politics of duplication, every thought identical, the governance of mimocracy. Does the candidate imitate the...
Irritation
Sometimes an eyelash can irritate an eye even more than watching an atrocity.
Questionable Observations
No two things are different in the same way. How far up must you look to begin seeing sky? On an airplane, just look out the window. Astronauts look down to see sky. How is it that a sandwich eaten in Rome tastes better than the same sandwich eaten at home. Carl Jung...
Internal Medicine
Little bothers, or progressing, the tremble, the quiver, the quake. The body's sentinel wanders. Wonders. Was it something? Or not. Not, I am thinking. Or is it hope I am doing, self-diagnosis based on desire, a medicinal wish.
The Kitten
The kitten is a quiver, muscles flex tense fur softens form, bone structure, cat architecture, ancient lineage, unmistakable shape, unrelenting instincts: lion, tiger, leopard, lynx. My legs are stabs and scratches. The cause. Claws. The kitten climbs me seeking...
Sleepless
From the far distant east the sun races morning toward darkness. . But I am not ready for morning. Let there be night.
Four Poems on Ecstatic Dance
I The wind longs to see itself dance across the earth, caressing breezes, pummeling storms. With my body as its mirror, the wind winces seeing itself reflected in my dance.. II. I am a cloud and music is the wind. dancing, I give shape to sound, as a cloud makes the...
Bird Brain
A bird sitting on the bird bath suddenly flies fifty feet away to a tree branch. I want to know, in what form of thought did the bird make up his mind to fly? What form of thought guided his flight until he got to where he wanted to go?
Night’s Question
The night wants to know, what are you going to do with its gift of darkness?