through autumn leaves a teal-trailed wake of light
Tag: one line
I’ll put it back in the earth, as soft as dust :: a word too much
winter stars without you to name them
And don’t snow geese and immortality take their shadows from the sea
spring scent of nothing burning
Another weekend over, under a sky of stars I empty the car.
The way I rake the desert :: that would be my poverty
the wind howling horizon on a wave
Sunreal
mockingbird an octave shy of the moon
a solitary bird calls to the space between lightning and thunder
over my thoughts the hush of pines
election night smoke from an unseen cigar
in the distance gunshots opening the dark
department store sale flyers flying
funeral procession the hitchhiker tucks his thumbs in his pockets
sheltered by the bus stop empties
corner beggar change is everywhere
snow flurry on an empty street the traffic light turns red
white phlox blossoms daring the frost
on a bare twig rain beads what light there is
up to the summit up to a hawk’s cry up to the sun
shadows fold within shadows of the rose
fireworks at twilight forsythia
waiting for the sheep to pass a skylark's song
in the curve of the piano a face disappears into itself
garden hose a silver arc reaches the last cabbage
the skip of a skipping stone alpine swifts
how cleverly the word divides us
night paddling the land blacker than the sea
where creek willows weave the sunlight ducklings
he thinks again of turning leaves her hands
backstroke the sound of my mother’s womb
light falling everywhere in its own place — summer’s end (haiga)
leaves changing a language i can’t fully grasp
waltzing matilda two beats ahead of the rain
just past mauve paddling hard for a dark shore (haiga)
across the blue dome of the great basin mustang’s eye
the road home each bend unwinding an earlier version