in the tent
in the bag
with the light
the pen
journal
and ink
moments tell
the hushed tones
of themselves
**
green tent blues
include stiff buttocks,
wood bench card games
gas-lit light,
burbon shots
and stars…
nothing really blue
till morning wakes
the tree tops
**
from the break in the trees
either side
sun drops
to stream rocks
and finger tip promises
of cool waters
**
now
in its speaking
once
**
full moon
morning walk
etched shadows
**
Baja butterfly storm—
yellow petals
on warm after-rain winds
in a bowl of blue
breaking waves
**
early sun
gives
bunched tree leaves
new green—
trunks and boughs
bow
**
breeze-moved leaves
just there in the corner
the dryer vent
**
early bird benefits
in the hotel lobby
different cookies
**
and so, calming down
lets me know how up I’ve been,
no knowing how long
**
North America,
its west coast disappearing
under dark reaching
the deepened pink horizon;
history unfolding
in present tense—inhale leads
exhale, till our very last:
**
little slips
of beauty move us through—
big ones are not the point
**
the trusting heart
they sing of
trusts itself
**
morning, before
covering clouds, Orion,
chill
**
restless night recedes,
hotel pen appears:
soft filtered light
kneads inner roiling
open and away
**
dot com, dot dot net,
always searching what’s not here,
I trip over something
**
that the masters thought
themselves foolish, ignorant,
ought to speak to us
**
Sonojo, student
of Basho, her days, writing
haiku and tanka…
singing buddhas’ names—I bow
**
waiting—the grandson
sleeping recovery,
I just sit and wait
foolish old man
in the richness
of passing years
**
small talk and no talk,
the grandson hibernates cure,
wellness peeking out
now and then—me, just here
peeking back
**
the poet’s work: condense
unpaid, un-recognized
positions a’bound
freedom of movement, of mind,
spirit matters primary
apply with pen, paper
and winged words—no stamp needed
do not wait a response
**
fall closes in
leaves begin to crust
signals still quiet
**
awake in a world
my friends are not—I get out
and celebrate
**
dark clouds
shadow the face of the bay,
make daylight wait
**
the jacaranda
planted those years ago,
deep thickened being
fully living day by day,
no strings, no questions, no doubt
**
writing this morning
looking for poems, statements
getting in the way
