Monday, November 25, 2019

Mid-Autumn, 2012


Histories combine
Into a fenceline.
In the anatomy
Of the future,
Time is a nerve 
Through which
The universe
Experiences itself.

Friday, October 25, 2019

More Thoughts On Turkey






She still climbs and oversees
Jennies and Jakes spread into
Prairie, gently, intently.
Not all lived --my neighbor,
And dear friend, found
Feathers in his field.
She is alone now and
How her heart roams, as
She surveys the lanes
And homes, is testament--
Proof-- that lingering love 
And care include our roof.

Sunday, September 29, 2019

2019

 (Photo is an unintended companion-piece to Camanche Lake 1969. Associative mentation and time tend to play such pranks.)


Shutting The Door Behind Me
Unlike some sentients,
I close the door behind me
But do not open a window.
I have found snakes in
The pumphouse, and the
Odd mouse, both begging
To be let out --and I do.
But descendants return
After many generations,
(About two days for us)
And repeat history, and
We defeat the mystery. 
Sentience means we must.
So shut windows and doors.
The universe you save is yours.
 

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

My Hero of Point Reyes, 1965


We arrived, a '63 Chevy
In morning mist and
Insisted we wade out
As one into the sounding 
Sea --Drake's Bay.
The day was hot and we
Rejoiced under sun
Into night then hiked
Back up, to a note
On the windshield:
"You left your lights
On this morning, so
I disconnected the battery--
Ranger Dave." We
Found a half-inch crescent
Wrench under the hood
And surmised we,
And an angel, dived
Into the same wave.

Friday, August 2, 2019

Irreducible Haiku



Down a cat-shaped hole
Moving through the universe
Rodents disappear.


Sunday, July 14, 2019

1977


Moment of creation is
Always ideation, progress,
Succession of  futures,
Falling stars and heartbeats.
By gain and retreat we 
Define time over real, unreal
And climb what is revealed.



Monday, July 1, 2019

Camanche Lake 1969

I remember it as though
It was only 50 years ago
Instead of half a century.
She and I adventured at
A convergence in history--
Three counties, Amador, 
Calaveras, San Joaquin,
Camanche among & between,
Where our state came to
Mean gardens and old
Dreams of vineyards, gold,
Then hopes for those 
With swimmers' bodies
Rose between our yard-long
Arms and she took a photo.
Why? I still don't know.