Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Little Corner

That little corner
little tiled corner
so hard to reach
even with the Bounty

There's always 65
and a white rag

So now you know
my problem
at midnight
or thereabouts

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

With No Say

Her shoes pinched
The dust waited
Corners grew
Into hallways
Door jambs
Their tiles

It was the same feeling
Reaching down
To pick up the lint
Its contours not alluring
With nothing to say

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Rabbit Island

Manana please come home
to shore and stop the delay
out there beyond the break
yes we see how you float
no effort just light and dark

picking up all the salt
washing my open neck
riding to the village
the night landing spot
jutting out meeting there

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Well Flower

Well flower
Nice to see you
Up close in person
Your color seems to bleed
Right into the sun
After a day of complexities
Mourning the morning
Just that sound
All around the garden

Well  flower
Is there a limit
When you grow
clown fractures
seeming so serious
so well flower

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Land Mass

There is that sinking feeling
even out with the sage
that what is here is floating
along beside the road grateful
and really did you tell them
everything they need to know
about the roll and overlooks

Can we say no other days
just like this one they stream
into one long river of days
combed out wavy hair
flowing down to the sea

Tuesday, May 16, 2017


That is the way to sift the dusty contents
all your questions about Bodie
and how to get there--
Calico? that fluffy piece of cake.

Their mirrors not my mirrors!
Please resist that type of thinking!
I am busy with my mask. The makings
of time. How the clock ticks.

This evidence invites no speculation
there you have it there it is
ask another leading question
before the jury returns empty-handed.

I've made my mark on the new wall
but someone erased it with a little 65
the King of the Custodians to blame
his loping gait his bunch of keys.

Monday, May 15, 2017


I spent my time in Bodie
a lot of cool friends
their strange personalities

took some getting used to
rocks the only beings
around for miles

Their sharp edges not
whittled down very easy
that part figured out

I had dreams about the road
but was too spooked
to give it another whirl

brushing off
this dusty mask
its familiar contours