Sunday, January 4, 2015

Colloid

Christmas has let go, finally, and the sweet and bitter holiday will soon be gathered up and put away in boxes. Such a tinseled mixture of consumerism and love, junk and dear memory. It hurts so to know the cost of too much, but how resonant my childhood Christmas memories, the time with my own children and then my grandchildren.  We all laughed together in the darkness of the Winter Solstice; we decorated the tree with bright lights, we ate sweet food and lit our fires.



today is a colloid

grey thoughts floating

in a loose,  January fog

somewhere ahead, a focus

steps...one-at-a-time



Wan grasses straightened alert in ovals of melting snow. That old board emerges as I squint to see the lost broom, coming out next to the car. It's only January: winter will freeze it all soon again.  Off in the distance, South Sister is gathering more snow from crowning clouds.



On the porch, a calligraphy of brisk junco tracks and one big boot print. Easy to see who ate the bird seed and who brought in the wood.


Saturday, December 20, 2014

for D.H. Laurence

he knew it then

true Advent,  deep waiting

his "silence of short days"

how bitter this cold night

how pure the solstice snow




Friday, December 19, 2014

This One...


and all the rivers I have loved

my time, this flowing

     with its irregular heartbeat

moments whitened against stones

pausing to send edged light

coded mail, the quick eddy, there

too fast, again and again.



Somewhere

under the rush

a low flute

reshaping the air.


Thursday, December 4, 2014

Advent

The sadness of it,

the unheard message.

sent over and over again.

How is it possible to miss it?



Quiet....quiet, let the stillness

open, let the stars come

down. Look deeply into the eyes

of a lost animal.



Our real heart is still beating

behind masks and locked doors.

Look, there it is again, the child

in a manger, so poor.



He's with the poorest poor,

and yes, the animals.

That's where you find

yourself, your own true,

newborn king.






Sunday, November 30, 2014

Three Voice Renga

yard without birds

the air swept clean of sound

hunting hawk has cut through N.



alone on the icy bridge

the fast water almost black D.



Holy Mary carried

with the flow of chanting nuns,

rose over perfumed pine M.



rebirth in the laundry room

folding soft clean clothes N.



unseen critters of  the night

patient through the short, dark day

spider beginning her web D.



kitchen, catching the same mouse

basement, husband letting him go M.



short critter

knocking over the birdbath

dog tracks in the snow N.



fast moving hare, quail

iced-in boot print, skunk D.



raccoon's glowing eyes

thee young ones and a mother

taking leftovers        M.



sunlight on the torn bark

juniper's pink flesh, shining D.



in the dawn light

snow of many colors        N.

two collared doves

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Ekphrastic- ku
Haiku poetry about art for Dawn Boone

.............................

in a frame
Cinderella chased by her slipper
modern art

..................................

fresh mountain snow
the brightness of a new page
I'm afraid to draw

...................................

the old book
cut into a Chevy
let's go for a ride

..................................

Michelangelo
painting an angel on the ceiling
did she really wink?

..................................

shadow dancing
let's leave a painting
on the floor

..................................

a hazy picture
in the grounds of my morning coffee
could be art


big magic fox
a sculpted scroll in his teeth
please unroll your story

.................................

pin-up in the old tank
as long as the war lasted
she smiled at him

..............................

black ink calligraphy
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza
Picasso playing

...............................

a skinny Giacometti
If I stare long enough
will I loose weight?

..................................

design on ice
long lines, sudden stop
jumping skater

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

haiku, tanka, sijo

haiku

runaway teenager
a family searching the woods
blue flashlights of fear

 tanka

runaway teenager
a family searching the woods
blue flashlights of fear
who can tell you apart
your face gone to torn rags

Sijo

little boy runs the river
sunlight gleaming off high red cliffs
playing at death in beautiful games
neon glory, all alone
black asphalt line, the long hard road
run away where they can't follow

willamette writers

willamette writers

Blog Nation Badge

Poets United