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Friday, September 8, 2017

Melaleuca Morning 

At the heart of it 
Perhaps we're all
Just tuning our 
Instruments.

One pink sphere
Surrounded
By the orchestral hum

Of green leaves
Swaying to sun’s
Music and

A buzzing soloist

Oblivious to the audience,
returning again and again

for gold.

Sunday, September 3, 2017

                                      Wordless

is a word, yes….yet, none of these moments, none of these phenomena exist
because of the scaffolds of human language:

Mushrooms in the park nestled on wet lawn
The rain splattered sidewalk
The thick-legged girl booting a soccer ball beyond the goal
The bird pirouetting along the grass, worm-searching
The bench where we sat and where you’re not now
The clatter of window shades in wind
The tingle of my feet after today’s run
The presence of your absence now
The memory of hugging Therese in her kitchen in silence
The bougainvillea blossom on the running path, red with a white dot
The shine and shimmer of my grandson’s grin
The bird alone on a bare limb overlooking the lake
The thought of an underlying evolving energy prior to all thought
The downtown Portland library in the afternoon
The emptiness in my gut
The attempt at welcoming this emptiness
The poet whose fire to express herself in beautiful evocative words blazes on
My desire to live for a while, like the blossom on the path, wordlessly…….

Saturday, September 2, 2017

              summer
barefoot and beaming, enfolds
us in leafy arms of August, our lips
our chins our teeth stained purple
from this juicy fence of brambles

as along a dusty road we grinning
ramble, you and I lust-filled sampling
hidden treasured berry pleasure!
   Blossom

a quiet presence
shimmers
color into

the wide world

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Melaleuca Morning 2

At the heart of it 
Perhaps we're all
Just tuning our 
instruments,

One pink sphere
Surrounded
By green leaves
Swaying in the sun’s

Music and a buzzing 
Soloist returning

Again and again 
For gold.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Melaleuca Morning

At the heart of it all
A pink sphere
Surrounded
By green leaves
Swaying in the sun’s
Music and a single
Bee returning again
And again for gold.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

  Animal Appetite

In the dream a cougar

a street gray blotted
suburban light.

Alone strange
watercolor

bricks of hunger
in her gut

sifted fog death’s mute
taunts, hidden shrieks and

bullets hunting nighttime’s cover.

Shivered human
wanting

wonders, hoping
smitten lover
stumbling

drunken
housewards,


to taste that flesh, then rip into….