Old Griz
This time the old bear set off straight to the top.
Every year before,
it was a crooked trail.
Deep snow slowed us both,
and fog blurred the day;
my eyes
and my spirit.
Until,
emerging above the mist
the trail was clear
and beside a deadfall,
there were the eyes:
fixed upon the backtrail
and upon my own;
vacant,
seeing well beyond
a remnant dream
and my shadow in the evening sun.
I reached for a cold foot
in a shivering embrace,
cold, now, in a slight breath
stirring stunted needles
on ancient brush
and
kneeled.
waiting for eternity.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Riding Kate
she swapped ends
180 degrees to the right
before she felt the reins
mule deer in the brush!
one ear forward, one ear back,
like me
then on to the
turning point:
calmer
hoping against hope
that there really is
a soul keeper
180 degrees to the right
before she felt the reins
mule deer in the brush!
one ear forward, one ear back,
like me
then on to the
turning point:
calmer
hoping against hope
that there really is
a soul keeper
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Pausing by the cedar stump
tracks came to here:
stopped.
looking back,
it was a crooked path
and snow is melting them,
distortions along the way.
the burned out cedar stump,
hollow now in age,
ancient even then,
sheltered much
in the days
and nights
spent in its safe womb,
(a child's innocent retreat)
but, revisiting,
the old entrance is too small
to allow passage now.
what follows this failing trail?
ahead is westering sun.
if I wait too long
the trail will be as dim
as future's twilight:
present and past,
in diminished sight,
melt poorly
into the arrival of the night.
stopped.
looking back,
it was a crooked path
and snow is melting them,
distortions along the way.
the burned out cedar stump,
hollow now in age,
ancient even then,
sheltered much
in the days
and nights
spent in its safe womb,
(a child's innocent retreat)
but, revisiting,
the old entrance is too small
to allow passage now.
what follows this failing trail?
ahead is westering sun.
if I wait too long
the trail will be as dim
as future's twilight:
present and past,
in diminished sight,
melt poorly
into the arrival of the night.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Greta
She was crazy wild,
running
even on hind feet
faster than me,
always testing the wind.
She was crazy wild,
laying
on the passenger seat
in the old truck
on the arm of this old man
sly kisses on my ear
She was crazy wild,
just wanted to be near
but ran...
running,
to the end of her chains
to the end of her innate
boundaries
circles
and back ,
back to check her center...
diameters,
as if at the length of invisible restraint,
She was crazy wild,
love incarnate
loyally blind
ignorant of
affirming any consequent,
brief love
in the scheme of things
she was,
friend.
running
even on hind feet
faster than me,
always testing the wind.
She was crazy wild,
laying
on the passenger seat
in the old truck
on the arm of this old man
sly kisses on my ear
She was crazy wild,
just wanted to be near
but ran...
running,
to the end of her chains
to the end of her innate
boundaries
circles
and back ,
back to check her center...
diameters,
as if at the length of invisible restraint,
She was crazy wild,
love incarnate
loyally blind
ignorant of
affirming any consequent,
brief love
in the scheme of things
she was,
friend.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Borogoves and Momeraiths
"all mimsy were the borogoves and the momeraiths outgrabe"
the beautiful Tennessee Waltz
was darling its way
o're the cherry groves
when along came Bob
running
and stole my life
into 'Nam and other places
and the flag was downside up
and all could hear
seagulls cry
over oily oysters
revolution
so that pearls ashore
when we get there
would be white
and saints could
march blackly in
(darkly speaking)
it's ok
it's alright
all right
so,
when borogoves get all mimsy
why would we care?
we wouldn't dare
the momeraiths
would outgrabe
taking us away
anyway,
any way,
the redbird's off her nest
and her eggs arot
won't give a damn alot
(we'll waltz away home)
the beautiful Tennessee Waltz
was darling its way
o're the cherry groves
when along came Bob
running
and stole my life
into 'Nam and other places
and the flag was downside up
and all could hear
seagulls cry
over oily oysters
revolution
so that pearls ashore
when we get there
would be white
and saints could
march blackly in
(darkly speaking)
it's ok
it's alright
all right
so,
when borogoves get all mimsy
why would we care?
we wouldn't dare
the momeraiths
would outgrabe
taking us away
anyway,
any way,
the redbird's off her nest
and her eggs arot
won't give a damn alot
(we'll waltz away home)
Choice
man from the mountain
demounts
broken commandments
defiance,
rage against chains,
seeking not freedom
but liberty
(even the eagle's wings
are subject to the laws of flight)
soar after freedom!
(are the angel's wings
subject to the laws of flight?)
choosing falling,
why do we want wings
to soften the landing?
demounts
broken commandments
defiance,
rage against chains,
seeking not freedom
but liberty
(even the eagle's wings
are subject to the laws of flight)
soar after freedom!
(are the angel's wings
subject to the laws of flight?)
choosing falling,
why do we want wings
to soften the landing?
Journey
helmet laying near a stump:
two signs of harvest.
they say that Ulyses himself
may have passed here
a cavalry crush
in the civil conflict
the crush of my feet
and the disturbance of my breath,
the sound of my words
all passed
the helmet,
the stump,
and...
two signs of harvest.
they say that Ulyses himself
may have passed here
a cavalry crush
in the civil conflict
the crush of my feet
and the disturbance of my breath,
the sound of my words
all passed
the helmet,
the stump,
and...
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