(2014)
#Fall
a great blue heron watches from a mogul of grass as I scavenge a poem from the marsh Tom Peepety calls
we don’t know who he said he was we came from curiosity and stayed for the inhumanity
come sit beneath my branches and read to me from dead poets for I am old all texture and symmetry a conspiracy of cocoons
Still they knock at my door And complain About the state of the world Selling fear Like grape Kool Aid
A man sits reading under a “SIZ… He does not look sizzling hot He looks quite ordinary in fact Perhaps feeling me watching him… (Not noticing the sign because it…
sunlight through the clouds in a ring of bright water loons fish two by two
grey rocks flowering in melting fu… first blooms of March after winter… a flock of ducks is muttering in t… the first light of day to brush th… shakes the branches they reply…
Seagulls hovering Uneven hills encircle Tide pool reflection
The taste of winter ice Dug in August from the sawdust Of Conley’s ice house The slap of the screen door On Grammy’s porch
the sum of the estate: pictures newspaper clippings poems the memories
WINTER SHADOW / Feb 11, 2011 small white stones fall rattling to the ground a shadow keeps pace beside me through the groaning night
surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas
little lies, seeds of thyme shallow-rooted, often sewn cover the largest stone yet a tree springs from a single seed
white-rimmed waves crawl reluctantly shore ward moody city skyline rebuffs shafts of sunshine cloud confusion
Now that love has died Only silence remains between Two lonely people