Category: Poetry

Here is where my deepest heart lies. These writings emanate from the many times when my passion hits the bottom and other times where it seems to fly on wings. To solace myself, I go to the woods on deep forest trails, pray to waterfalls, look over valleys, and dip my hands in the waters of springs, hoping to soothe myself. Forgive me if I get angry; for at times I’m just plain mad at the world.

Ruins Near A Waterfall

Snippets of blue and clouds Poke through rafters That once held meaning. Still, something walks Within the ruins Weathered old boots…and Ashen hands, brushing Stone, steel, and rust Feeling along debris As if it were night In the summer shade.   Outside, where tourists… Continue Reading “Ruins Near A Waterfall”

The 99 Cent Lady

Her eyes…opaque. If you look into them, she won’t return your greeting. Her sight fixes upon someone who’s not there, as if the air holds a face that no one can see except for her. In words you don’t trust, she tells you what… Continue Reading “The 99 Cent Lady”

Wishpoosh

Denny and I, with his Wasco legs, inside Gifford Pinchot… Late, when the dust of the gravel road settles, fast, into black… We cup our hands, to make an old whistle, like the hoot of an owl To settle our minds, to settle our… Continue Reading “Wishpoosh”

Looking For Goldilocks

  We’re measuring distant planets By the flutter of their stars By the flicker of the light That lies Next to their circumference   Abstracting them down Into analyzation Bringing them up to surface Through <code> </code> To words, pictures, and meanings   To… Continue Reading “Looking For Goldilocks”

Tectonic Plates

Cathy is in the twilight heat Before the summer night Moves like tectonic plates. She tells me stories Of shooting people in Vietnam During the war   The rifle she used is under her bed. I saw it when she asked me To feed… Continue Reading “Tectonic Plates”

Cape Disappointment

Here, Saddle Mountain from a distance is a few uneven bumps. The jetties appear as pencil marks, drawn outwards towards the sea. The river wants to keep going, to stretch beyond the haze.  A few old growths dot the forest, challenging the wind. They’re… Continue Reading “Cape Disappointment”

Clay

The shape of our sculptures The flaws in their forms The brittleness of their glaze The density of their mass The allure of kilns     Click on image to enlarge. “Formation”            

Ramona Falls’ Mist

Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon… Continue Reading “Ramona Falls’ Mist”

When Josephine The Singer Leaves

There’s a burning inside her and you can see it when she’s holding in her voice. You’re lucky she holds it in, for when it hits air, it cuts you. These cuts cause you to fall inside her furnace, scald you, sting your heart… Continue Reading “When Josephine The Singer Leaves”

Steps

Winter’s mask, layers upon chaotic earth Underneath is uneven ground As we feel the contours, so near our feet To walk is awareness   Of how we place Our steps   Click on image to enlarge.    

%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this: