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.

Above Multnomah Falls

This warm winter makes the creek scream like spring. I dip my hand in, as far in as my long sleeves let me Smooth stones, slick, cold life, years in my hands. My fragile blood beats, knows the water by heart.   It’s good…

The Wind Chases Feral

The wind is amplified by the valley. A sign, to go no further. This wind searches ravines, ravages tops of evergreens, escapes up through mountains, lets loose upon a cold sky. A harsh exhale, a winter bite, snickering past sunrise, diving into sunset, searching…

Under Clear Skies

The ground is the hardest clay Groups of limbs follow its path Huddle in the sun Knees hidden, ankles astray Plot on how to tiptoe along cushions of leaves.  

Linear

The mist stifles all sound, confines sight Numbs time, suspends the linear Encloses you in tentative comfort While scaring you with limitations   You find yourself worried about the quiet Near the shallow ripples of the lake Where the hills slant their hardest towards…

Wild Glow

The city is not anyone’s anymore, as if it ever was. The empty railroad warehouses, where… Romance wore smudged faces, fought over a tough touch. Now, old bruises, vanished on the wide surface of skin. Strong arms refused to let go To lovers Who…

Night Orientation

Her house is sunshine, a bright glow. The wind can only brush against her windows, slip away into daylight. She warms her hands against the walls and that heat wears her palms soft. She touches you and you feel it beneath your skin. Below…

Early Chill

The sun is dull today, grey clouds and a cold, cold rain. Thrushes scatter from tree to tree…scolding me. Witch hazel fades to orange, then red. Oak leaves are starved skeletons and thistles appear as brittle, brown tubes. The spring with its wild water,…

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