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Just This (Poem)
as a child I learned that time
was not the order claimed by the clock
but some more malleable thing, viscous and pliant
like gumbo clay after a hard summer rain
the afternoon hours hung across the sky
dripping their minutes into the hot humid air
so slowly that they stretched into forever
and even the restless ocean became still
I let my mind quieten then, became eternal
again and again with each breath
found the end and begin of all creation
no birth no in between life no death
just this one moment, just this
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This One Did Not Die On Main (Poem)
the pavement slick, darkened by fog and rain
leaking like oil from a damaged sky
firmament punctured by some sharp wing-tip
a bird careless as it wheels in surveying flight
an unwise deer skids into a flail
then falls into an ungainly heap of legs
lives to right itself and flee
into more hospitable grass, glistening blades
still soaked by dawn’s brief shine of light
there to pause for one considering glance
before disappearing into the mercy of distant trees
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Between The Drainage and The Hotel Verge (Poem)
bushes, a few trees, stones on a slope of land
ruins of a church remain in that ground
birds, squirrels, a fox chatter back and forth
people murmured quietly outside the doors
easy to find the one but the other
lies beyond the casual attentional field
to see hear and feel through the quantum
to experience more of the whole
let your heart open in deep rapt attention
worth effort, worth time, worth care
be curious be brave be bold
