Sunday, December 16, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (22) 


A slapping winter wind.
How cold it will be
when the stars come out.



RANDOM DECEMBER (21) 


December.
I cannot
remember

summer sun
in her hair,
the color

of its light
towards evening.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Not Morning So Much 


Not morning so much
as the sun off

Buffalo Creek
in my eyes with wind

and the tears which
come from loving

this world too much.



THAT SUNSET 


That sunset,
the horizon
far from that

farm grove.
All these years
not knowing

what I wanted
is beyond
understanding.

Some of it
this side of
what is seen.

Some of it
the other.



Saturday, December 15, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (20) 


The sun is behind me,
the wind in my face--
a December thought.

I have nowhere to go.



RANDOM DECEMBER (19) 


Wind chases the shine
of sun off the ice

on the river. Deep down
something loves darkness.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Oh, Yes, Our Friends 


Oh, yes, our friends
the coyotes are

methodical
taking her apart,

the dead cow
along the creek.

Blessed Lord,
they say, thank you.



ONLY FOR 


Only for
so long

the silence
between

the notes.
The song

demands
the song

go on.



Friday, December 14, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (18) 


December wind.
The poet being true

has no time to
catch his breath.



RANDOM DECEMBER (17) 


The wind makes sense of dust
and of leaves in the trees.
Water makes sense of mountains.
The light knows all, without
the need to think about it.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Cricket 


Ever so
lonely
against

cold autumn
the cricket
stops as

I pass.
We know
the end

is not far
off. Yet
these tears

are wind,
friend, not
sorrow.



MYSTERY 


Mystery is not
hidden. It stands

as naked as
its skin allows.



Thursday, December 13, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (16): AFTER THE SNOW 


Listen.
The streets

are saying,
Don't go!



RANDOM DECEMBER (15) 


Old man
aches. He

thinks
he no

longer
knows

what ache
is not.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: You Can Say 


You can say
you saw seven

coyotes cross
the field, Tom,

but who would
believe that

a hawk went down
on something

right this moment.



THE LINE 


The line
is what

makes the
poem

believe
itself.



Wednesday, December 12, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (14) 


Who walks with
God walks alone
in this snowstorm.

The world goes down 
to its oblivion.



RANDOM DECEMBER (13) 


Without the darkness
we would not know

the return of light.
Nothing is given

that is not blessed in
a turning season.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Coyotes 


Some things
looked for

can't be seen.
The coyotes.

And then
two of them

come for you
out of the

blindness of
your side-eye.



WHAT STARTED AS A CRITIQUE OF MS. ROSE'S POETRY 


If every poem
has cicadas
you've got a

problem. Though
I admit to
wind and darkness

in very many,
and birds and grasses
and hope for light.



Tuesday, December 11, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (12) 


Tracks in
the snow.

Even
the birds

are walking
today.



RANDOM DECEMBER (11) 


Harsh sky
and snow.

Everything
today.

Nothing
tomorrow.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Poet Goes To Work 


Almost like a priest
kissing the stole,
putting on holiness

for the moment
in these hills with
the coyotes, with

the cottonwoods who
yesterday let go,
leaves everywhere,

and who, today,
let him let go.



EVERYTHING / THAT RISES 


Everything
that rises

enters that which
wants to take it.

Morning is as
morning does.

Each moment,
the sun

coming up.
Touch it.



Monday, December 10, 2018

RANDOM DECEMBER (10) 


Glitter of light
in the ice
on the window,

the wandering
souls of all
the lost fireflies.



from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: What I Know 


What I know is
that I don't
know anymore.

Everything
I see tells me.



CROWS/FLYING 


Crows
flying flat.

Sun, yes.

Wind
at their back.



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