Words do fly away
like seeds from radiant trees
and likewise, this verse
is ephemeral.
Here Pacific breezes mix
with wind from the Gorge,
the East-West exchange.
I’ll stick by verse, ask nothing
more from life than this.

Blue Grammar

At my feet tiny
bronze wings, above my head sun-
engorged foliage.

A tumult of birds
on Twitter tweet “never start
with an idea,”

but today I sit here
charged with the idea of
blue beyond all this.


However you cut
it, the Immeasurable
as entertained here

is objectified,
which I in no way defend.
My fear and God’s wrath

(vide Psalm 90)
as ratio reasserts it-
self — what can I say?

To make a poem
along these lines is mortal
and true ecstasy.

As Night Falls

I sit sipping hot
tea; my cat in my lap shifts
in sleep, heavier

with each dream. I’m wide
awake. Evening fades from
the trees, the window

become a mirror.
I’ve learned we cannot prevent
the intimacy

of being return-
ing to affirm itself
. Nor can
we make it happen.

The quote is from William Desmond, The Intimate Universal, 170

The Glitter of Granite

My mountain days long
over, what I recollect is
that “most inward I” —

between Scotch pine and
granite wall. Small habitat
but self-supporting,

the granite glitter,
moss emerald at sundown,
immanences now

known beyond knowing.
Sometimes their image disturbs
an old man’s prayers.


April at the Park

Even this early
the grass breathes warm air; pristine
smells rise into sense.

Summer’s on the way,
the boys and girls of summer.
A man and his dog

cut across the field
slowly. A wholeness takes shape
from the shapeless whole.

Available Light

A piece of rye toast
and a cup of tea — my dreams
scattered on the plate

with crusts and crumbs. I
turn the Socratic pages,
start where we left off.

Light through Spring blossoms
shadows the page, branches shift
their weights. Immanence

is always a sign
of transcendence, though the words
for it are like dreams.