Dec 16, 2021

Green Man Dreaming

 You were wrong not the embodiment 

of Christ

nor savior of the tree

in its private place

the murmurings and silence of the world


No decay and the light

illuminating the wood like the carvings 

in an old church


What could be done with such secrets

held close through the long years

but await the water's rising

and absolving light

releasing me

Dec 28, 2017

Aug 14, 2014

Still here, just thinking....

Dec 21, 2010

On the Coming of Winter





I feel for the crow.
It picks at a vague lump, a dead fish, perhaps,
locked in the ice congealing along the riverbank.

With every touch of winter's breath, the bird’s tail flicks,
its wings moving as though fanned to life as a dark flame,
illuminating this place of watery hardness, of poisoned sustenance,
of requiem birds.

Oct 21, 2010

What's Revealed in the Hidden #2

                                      Philodendron #2

What's Revealed in the Hidden

  Philodendron #1

Oct 18, 2010

In The Big Cypress


Bury me in a secret grave,
in the white sands of an absent sea,
in the warm waters of a summer rain.

And when the sea returns,
and I drift, revealed,
may the manatees lick my bones,
and gather me up in their mermaid arms.

Oct 16, 2010

Where I Live #2

The Pine River, October 15, 2010

Oct 7, 2010

For Raja Shehadeh

I won’t go back to the ashen hills
where the shattered donkey died.
A premature sacrifice,
just another dead donkey.

I won’t go back to the echoing walls.
A falcon streaks below,
and above, the crows.

I won’t go back to the broken hills,
and who shaped the ruined gardens,
to drift among the earthly cyclamen clouds?

I know of those gardeners and their lovely gardens.

I won’t go back to the ghosts of Nabi Musa,
or to the springs, descending with my heart,
to the bitter, shrinking sea.

Where I Live

The Pine River, October 6, 2010