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Poems 2007

2 Haikus & 1 Tanka (2005)

Published by Bear Creek Haiku, Winter 2007

By pruning roses

I get paid for my good time.

There have been worse days.

A labradoodle.

I understand this strange dog

And throw him a stick.

The veil was thinnest –

There was the nierika!

All things all at once.

When one sees the Divine Dance

Nothing remains as it was.


In This Grassy Field
& Fractal (2004)

Published by Poetry Explosion Newsletter, Spring 2007

In This Grassy Field


In this grassy field

on a sunny day

I feel the autumn yellow

brushing on legs

shining on my head


And if, I think, I wore a dress

across this grassy field

I believe I would be healed


For every blade of us grown tall

upon whom our feet will fall

arrested by this Earth

through renewal and rebirth

we grow up tall

with yellows of the sun and ground

we shine down

we brush the legs

of unsuspecting men

with our free and flowing pen.


Oh if I’d wear a dress

across this grassy field

I believe I would be healed.




We think al-

gebra will mend bro-

ken bones,

but in fractions of those


lies the genuine moment

never found in

Euclidean pathways or

other linear perfections,

those abbreviations of 

unstoppable misunderstandings.

What are we to make of approximations of mountains?

Of clothed hourglasses on restroom doors?

Foundations of injustice

will crumble under hollow bones

turned inside out 

along quantum coastlines of the soul,

the smaller our becoming

the more blessings the journey.

A Pagan Apology (2005)

Published in Main Street Rag, Spring 2007

My penchant for the jurisprudence of popular opinion

provides me with this hodge podge of pandemonium,

this piece of panderous pedantry.

Forgive the preponderance of pernicious pejoratives and percussively piquant pessimism

in my pronouncement of the ever-present oppressive patriarchy

presided over by the panoply of political and corporate pinheads

who persevere in their predilection for petulant opulence,

their appropriation of pork bellies, apple pie, and the praise of pollution

as the proper and prideful pursuit of a compliant public,

these repulsive pigheaded pricks 

spouting their pathetic panaceas for poverty,

impaling the people on the prurient spikes of perdition.


Pardon my passing on the preferred passivity of pollyanna-like prudence

lest it impede any progress toward a pantheistic approach

to this repugnant and paltry paternalism.


I patently hope our own implied providence

will help produce a penultimate pre-depilatory hair-raiser

and persuade a palliative preparedness 

to precede the putrid purgatory appearing

at the prying open of this perfidy

in opprobrium to Pandora.

Heaven & Earth (2006) &
Winter Solstice (2000)

Published in Tributaries, Winter 2007

Winter Solstice


The apricots we ate

tasted like New Mexico sun

radiating music on the tongue.

The wine we never had

was cold as snow and called me.

But we drank of each other,

we ate our own flowers

and bloomed inside,

darkness falling.

Message From Beyond (2004) 

Published in Georgetown Review, Spring 2007

Before the Millennium,

birds speak to me.


They come on new winds in spring,

blown like kites

from broken strings.

In Fire, they say,

is burning change,

is joy and pain,

and it won’t be free.


They point to willow limbs

bent by wind

and say, like this tree

must I be,

or snapped away

across this ground

will I lie,

pruned by gods

I’d never know.

Desire (2005) 

Published in Georgetown Review, Spring 2007

Within me grow trees

of other times

scarce of heartwood,

a sapling perhaps

nurtured many years,

pruned for eternal youth:


a bonsai of my

perfect desire for

verdant leaves,

multitudinous limbs,

shallow blessed roots strangling

with juvenile strife.


Today I split wood

to feed a fire

in the aging forest

of my history 

as if this sacrifice

will suffice,


as if somewhere this dreamscape, 

a bountiful wood

through a gateway of burning,

gives honorable passage

to the naive longings

I will shed.

How to Untangle a Knot (2007) 

Published in Oberon Poetry Magazine, Summer, 2007

Grasp a loose end in one hand

and in the other behold the heart of the matter.


Enter the entanglement

taking note the multitude of impetuous pathways.


Beware of free unravelings

entwining themselves into other snafus.


Pay no attention to seemingly unrelated cordage 

encouraging resignation.


Ignore the growing turmoil 

as you disengage snarls to enlarge the mass outward.


Refocus on the path

gently tugging loops that carry the loose end through the plight.


Repeat until fully unravelled.


Sort through the tethers.


Throw nothing away.

2 Haikus
Grassy Field

Heaven and Earth


Love flooding in leaps and 

bounds licks a dry bone gulch

sucking marrow waits for rain in

high clouds’ heavy breathing moisture

smelling life’s ways through dust and rocks

dressed in lichens and teased with tumbleweed

drops into the canyon with blessings from springs

reaching mountains’ summits and never coming down.

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