Wednesday, January 7, 2015


Passings—year’s end   2014


to touch

lands late

marked bright
on blue



When attention snags, then lingers
over what—it cannot tell—then, imagination…


Ah, the teacher…

Ah, the teacher—what’s happening here,
what it is that’s happening

here with this life now—not
what we want to happen,

but slowing enough to question
actual happenings

here and now, to allow
the rest to follow

from this—this, the teacher,
the taught, this the learning carrying 

forward this living, here, now.


Forever morning…

I don’t know, nor know who
can say how it works
its way

but floodgates, watersheds,
release renewed release,

conditions conform
to conditions

to create change,
everything again new,

even the old—forever

morning unfolds


For Josette

In your pre-electric island childhood,
the full moon meant

you could play late into the night,
on an island on the Pacific,

in moon light.


In the Sierra, almost two seasons back,
a pretty Ranger told us the glacier we thought
we were seeing was no longer there—only an ice field.
While the former shapes the earth, the latter
simply melts back into it.

Either way, the work continues.


The way it is…

Instead of the much-anticipated clearing trend,
this morning extends a clutch of darkness
into hours expected to unfold in light, even
that thin layered promise of pre-winter.

But as is so often, anticipation disappoints.

For me, the lingering rustle of raindrops
tells all that need be told, in real time—soft patter
on a rain-slick roof consoles, bucket lists fill
with daily delights, and long-term commitments

build around the resonance of heart beats.


After a brief respite, rains return to affirm
the effectiveness of newly applied sealant
around the bathroom ceiling sky light.
Yes ! No more unplanned showers.


Good Spy, Bad Spy

In other news today, it has been confirmed
that officials of the Central Intelligence Agency
misrepresented the effectiveness of certain of its
preferred interrogation techniques.

One esteemed Senator, from the state of Colorado
I believe, characterized these misrepresentations
as lies—to which, in writing, the CIA replied

that it was “dismayed” that it had “failed to meet
its own standard for precision of language,”
        and said failure was “unacceptable.”
To wit (if I understand correct): it is unacceptable
        to lie and get caught.     Now,

far be it from me, admittedly only a poet,
whose precisions are usually a matter of heart—
far be it from me to press matters of such of grave
consequence—but will someone please tell me

what we learn from this kind of “intelligence” ?


Buddha’s Name

And then, it was there,
just there, as always, I knew,
I have known. But, there it was.
Like suddenly noticing the sky.


Resolution…fresh flowers on the altar

Calistoga--year's end, 2014

Calistoga 12/31/14

--for the Kanes

The Oat Hill Mine Trail is the most northerly stretch
of the Bay Area Ridge Trail, rising some two thousand feet
above Napa Valley, sandstone bedrock
finally giving way to fantasia formations
of lichen covered lava.

The rooster in the yard across from the trailhead
sends me off, greets my return.

Along the trail, oak and fir, tight white flower buds
drape the madrone, and the summit crackles
mid-afternoon ice—no other face
anywhere up here—inessentials
tend to drop away

in air like this, in this kind
of space—what better place then, to let go

another fully lived year, give it back
to that great love affair called friendship.