forlorn in the sea mist
sea mist on
the pebbled boats
forlorn
on and on
a foghorn
on and on and on
the sea mist rolling
on and on and on
the boats appear
to sleep
to disappear
on a held breath
of a tide
calm forlorn
and on and on
crunch crunch crunch
and on and on
sunset
hoist with its own and bloody petard
the day hangs long and slow and stubborn
night’s black cloak carries the body away and
around the pole star the mob orbits in gory
away then empty tumbrel trees and hang the crows
that chant no more the way for the heavenly day is done
winter skylight
in that skylight
the spider stayed all winter long
cocooned it was supposed
in white silk
his meagre larder scattered
hanging like solstice
in that one blue adventure
he sprang spring upon us
and was gone
happy hunting we said
and applied the feather duster
in startlement
what planet are you on
hello
ikea announcement
in the toilet
and at the same time
you can save the planet
terms and conditions apply
standing stone
an invitation
to lay hands upon the past
to open
if only for an instant
some inner door
creating something in
an oscillation of anticipation
that you will add something
to its past
for Linda Pastan
why have i not read this woman
who has swept all my leaves into a fire
gone now in the smoke on the breeze
ruffling my indecision with fingered locks
a decision is made to collect her leaves for the leavening of tomorrow’s soil for her seeds of truth
