Poetry

Walk on the wet earth

Listening to all the trees

In a bowl of sun

To Do

Digging holes in wet sand

            with crossed out “to do” lists,

littering all surfaces, notebooks,

                                    and calendars.

Pushing in with my feet and pulling out

                        With my hands, there’s a

Nothing in the something I get done

            But never nothing to do.

 

Autumn

First October rain with wet leaves falling like pencil shavings

and anticipation of Halloween.

Wet Dog, Earl Grey

                                    steam swirling visions of

                        double-decker buses; stale bottled ocean mist.

Dampness is seeping into my skin and riding my breath.

I bike,

            careful not to hydroplane,

                        listening for cars, but,

                                    to the birds calling for Rain Gods

            & to the Sun trying to emanate past the cloud billows

Like Jesus behind a protestant vocal choir.

These fall days remind me of a sense of home

that’s never existed,

            of woodstoves and fresh bread,

            of death and my mother.

 

The Universe?

There must be some invisible force

            fighting against this

                        continual decay

            the death and disintegration that

hides behind all matter

            coming together

                        &

            breaking apart again

 

Rain and clouds

Sun comes out and ducks back down, again.

For a moment, the clouds cast a kaleidoscope of shadows on the ocean,

Blue and green

Turquoise and emerald, flashing.

The fire rumbles inside, as loud as the weather.

Cold on the outside and warm on the in.

The hut snaps schnapps crinkles and moans with the wind whistling OLD tunes.

Water boils;

moments drip by with the nature’s music and the silence between the moments.

When the sun comes out it takes an extra moment before going back to bed

snow flurries return softly as confetti

Blue to grey,

            before going back again

& more to come.

 

Unexpected Love

My feelings betray me

            right now

my heart is unruly

            unconformist to the rules I’ve set in stone.

The stones and rules upon which I’ve built my empire.

You walk in, a graceful Cleopatra, offering me more than the world

but a cure to my

cold lonely heart, set in stone

 

Ode to Crap n’ Stuff (Part One)

There are things I need and town

            and some I miss at home.

                        There’s the stuff that sits in the aura around my hammock,

            an invisible color: anti-orange.

Some things I’ve forgotten

& will forget after I unpack.

I have a hat; it’s blue.

I try not to forget my blue hat,

            my grey glasses, my water bottle

                        covered in stickers. I have 5

            3 have been lost

            2 of these are left.

One is at home with other stuff; it might as well be on Mars.

I don’t need any of this stuff except,

                        what I need in town.

 

The Island of Tao

The music of nature wakes me up,

even in the middle of the night.

Waves cracking stone so slowly, as crabs scurry

            in the tidal zone.

The wind picks up the waves,

both surging into the rockiness of my outcropping.

Lightening equalizing the atmosphere

                                    not far off;

thunder crashing , geckoes chirping and singing,

the insects and bats too, active,

                                    through the night,

                                    through my dreams in paradise.

            Don’t let me fool you.

The calm is an illusion.

There is something beneath the ink,

            the master of serenity.

 

 

Haiku

 

 

Skidding down palm tree

Gripping underside of trunk

Got two coconuts.

 

 

the sun lifts up off

the silent green sentinels here

standing as old trees