*
I will close this page
and put it away
I will have a look
at such light
lingering
I will stand eventually
get up and displace
myself in a busy store
drunk in sounds and souls
I will pick you up
later when this
wind ceases
one more time
running uphill
.
.
From the collection “The London Hours”, 2012.
.
*
white wellness
welcomed within
.
quietness
a silence seek
.
nearly no movement
a mussel in a shell
.
I hear love
surging
.
if I could
stay forever
.
fractions
.
.
.
From the collection The London Hours, 2012.
.
.
*
mid day of August’s
mid month some echoes
of a church service
on a television where
there are very few visions
a small breeze rises
awakening me to
a tiny drip drop
a small precipitation
into myself until
an airplane breaks
the clouds in two
.
.
.
.
*
my creed is this
got to make life a nest
while it last as
I grow my wings to
leave it soaring
fending the air upward
.
.
.
.
.
.
*
life as a bird
an egg in a nest
in unexpected
places hidden
cared for and guarded
with parental
love cracking to
the first light revelation
being fed and
taught to sing
before I could fly out
into everlasting
.
.
.
.
*
today the winds
in the valley are
high and strong
against the palm
trees fighting them
with a loud fuss
the mountains
fade away behind
a curtain of dust
lifted in the air
in front of them
gold swirling
souvenirs of
the Eldorado
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
wind tending
the lonely trees
too tall to reach
a few visits here
and there are clouds
birds the music
played by the wind
kissed by the sun
caressed by rain they
get more attention
– without moving –
some of us do
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
*
it’s the tenderness
of the sky
laying his shroud
over me
in the morning that
opens my eyes
to gratitude
glimpses of love
peeking through
as little drops left
after the rain
on the heads
of grass blades
.
.
.
.
This poem is part of the newly published collection California Notebooks Vol. 02
.
.
*
it’s part of nature
to wait it took me
a long time to get
it to taste the truth
of such statement
beauty of flowers
starts in the cycle
the seed growing
in darkness eyeing
the sky smiling to
the breeze falling
asleep at night so
many times until
it’s fall come in
time that is a
repeat that
is patience at his best
.
.
.
.
.
*
it is right by the side
of the road the Cathedral
In The Pines Cemetery
as if you could just roll
off the side of the road
dead and ready to lay
where there are no fences
but some more noise to
endure or is it a reminder
when the sun hides
at sunset behind red
blood colored clouds
.
.
.
.
4.
at times when I plant
basil such a delicate plant
I’ve to be careful to synchronize
my breath while I gently press
the dirt around as when
words sprout on paper
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
3.
just as bunny rabbits
at dusk poems show up
and while you stand
with your mouth open or
an enchanted smile
they rush away
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
2.
sometimes you are just
walking minding your own
business when something almost
invisible floats in front of you
usually a bit on the side not exactly
in front you need to pay attention
and gently pick the poem
out of the air
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
1.
there are times when
a poem you read doesn’t
make any sense where
you suddenly realize how
nice it is to be lost
.
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
.
*
a road to nowhere
days spent habits piling
up where the sky
.
still shines and showers
.
light stopping thoughts
in your own steps
you wish home to be anywhere
.
.
.
.
.
.
