Tuesday, February 12, 2019
WINTER
Monday, February 11, 2019
IS THERE AN EMPTINESS
Is there an emptiness
so great one can be healed
entering? Could you know
that was so when you have
no measure to compare?
Who would choose to carry
loneliness into his
own desert? Who has been
lost enough he can find
his way, who waits until
darkness brings what he's lost?
The one who loves in pain
is not the one to walk
into an unknown void,
not without his teacher.
Does he even know that
he needs a teacher? And,
if he does, can he wait
until the teacher finds him?
It is so hot out here.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
LATE LIGHT SKY
Late-light sky,
winter fields,
some wind in
the cedars.
What moves shines
with desire,
like the eyes
of small birds
waiting to
feed, waiting
to find hope
before night.
Saturday, February 09, 2019
SOMETIMES
Sometimes
those who would speak
go on too long.
Sometimes
those who would be silent
go on too long.
Sometimes
our poems fail us
when we need them
most.
Friday, February 08, 2019
IN THE DESERT
The sun does not
sing the wind's song.
The wind does not
sing the stone's.
The stone does not
sing the hawk's song.
The hawk does not
sing the mouse's.
The mouse, of course,
sings death's song.
The shadow of the hawk
sings it too.
Thursday, February 07, 2019
THE HAWK
Wednesday, February 06, 2019
CICADA POETRY
I have
cicadas
in my
ears and
they sing
all night.
This is
the only
way you
can hear
cicada
poetry:
listen
to them
in your
own ears.
You can
hear it
if you
choose, but
you must
want to.
