the stones along the coast crumble:: the dead king
the space between words:: where you didn't die
men clear-out the abandoned farm:: I miss the neighbors we didn't have
post tryptophan, I stumble the shoreline:: four wood ducks
batty old woman waves to each gull:: married with benefits
Neither Cumulus nor Stratus:: queer clouds slide the horizon.
Bare branched Maple:: the last pink Geranium petals cling to November
Enduring in life:: the stones linger along the shore
becoming ash:: the only way to be with you
this in which we suffer is, or is not:: peach-pink sunrise
tin-duck points West where the pair of Wood Ducks flew
spotted garden slug on a cast-iron hook:: black coffee
nameless yearning in the dark:: crickets singing night-long
pair of seaguls in blue:: dead fly on the windowsill
overwhelmed by the cloud:: a blue heron's ancient croak
long trail of clouds over the lake:: my guru's calligraphy
lilting piano morning:: sun-umbrella in breeze glissade
Becoming powder:: Dad
seventy seven seconds is a life span:: clockwork-orange
stratus slide under cumulus:: your earthy aroma
red sailboat zizags the horizon:: and mind
slight breeze in August heat wavers:: the cut-leaf cornflower
inside my eyelids:: your eyes
recalling his face:: the mad chatter of fish-crows
Last glimpse of marmalade sky::
You on the other shore
cremation this afternoon:: whispy clouds at sunset
neural mesh entropy:: the laughing gods
spaced-out:: the courtyard of the caravanserai
the car-struck cat pawing the sky:: my old man's dimentia
hardly disturbing the summer leaves:: his shallow breathing
xenolithic stone:: we find our way into eachother
each night the moon slips south east:: the cry of the loon
rubbing the sunset:: chromo-eroto mania
weed-whack pantomime:: 
macabre splatter in Jackson Pollock's dream
zydeco fire flies:: lichen rests on warm stone
horizon clouds
eat the sun
bats & midges
altering sunset beer mind attention:: blood orange
osprey splashes into lake:: mind ripples
a thin line of cloud puffs at dawn over the tin duck weathervane
bank window
everybody wearing masks
roadside chicory
black legs extend from the fox carcass
a pair of dead White Birch
topped with vultures
carolina wren's memory of past life suffering cold
wind in the juneberry calling to the nuclear gull's dark waiting
the arc of a forty ounce flight path of this indolent hurl
crow-wing turbulance shudders the cloud of cotton wood seeds
dream along a foreign road invoking a curl of smoke
she bends
at the waist
erector set

                              night storm:: all our writhing
Rhododendron synaptic nerons:: torn tendon
                                          morning sun
                       drifting down the bedroom wall
apricot puff-clouds
race under feathered Buddha
half-sun sinks
in the lake evening
George Floyd
how might you think
you need multiple billions
dead fish floating
not lots
of land for lack
old man under bridge
seeing the clear
lake water in the morning
remember kindness
field capacitors
is futile
from here
neorosis rhymes
above the implicit drift of
discourse shifts the balance
                     non-linear history:: plague & wavelets

after black coffee
chrysanthemum myths
all these capacities:: you cup me
you lift me
with your pelvic eyes
a chirp
a chipmunk
a black hole
our thrown-ness:: a tumbler of scotch
                             being is
                                   prounoun negativity
                                                  see it?
nickle plated thigh
bones of oxen scattered
British hats
Red Garland infused 
alchemical dream potion
soaked neurons
           the last star over the rusted bedframe
black-eyed susan
hung over
lolling in flaccid humidity

blue in green
by Miles

             for Michael Ketchek

knowing you're thrown:: falling into it

sunset:: this in which there was once there & mauve

spirals of worshipers:: sinusoidal breakdown

walled off:: stay home salad

upskirt:: her exposed roots

Disney Land psychosis:: The Mad Hatter in the checkout line

bobcat wet dream:: the ripped ear of a spotted fawn

long black rabit at dawn:: the mink's spirit guide 

cool breeze off the lake:: I lean into my eventual death

Rhododendrons in morning sun:: Anna's Hummingbird

swirling cloud of midges:: uncle johns band

a pair of herons
flying East at sunrise

It starts in the dark. Night rains in the last days of April. Temperature slightly above freezing, the drops are splats of water and slush hitting glass. One transparency assaulting another. Life becomes thinner in the middle and thicker at the edges, more opaque there due to attachments. There is no holding back, Spring will have its way. No amount of clinging will allow structure to remain for Spring is melt and seep; preparations for newness.

continual trickle in the drain pipe:: your catheter  

wave after wave hits the bluff:: each of us

red and gray stones on the lake bottom:: the King Fisher's chitter
calm lake, fish jump at the midges:: Osprey nabs a fish

All this breaking news is as useless as the loose gutter on the abandoned house next door. I walk over to the barn, the metal roof falling in. Fox scat. An old Pontiac. The flatbed Ford is on the lake side overgrown by brambles. A “Repeal the S.A.F.E. Act,” sign lies at the door. This is apple and gun country. Yep we got them bible churches too, but they’re empty these days, like the whisky bottles in the corner. The only thing left of the sacred are the afternoon gunshots at the range 2 miles away.

Old ford tractor:: half eaten squirrel


Singing to the lake again:: even the gulls have left me
wind out of the South
stings my face with frozen rain
that time you left me

all night the migrating geese chatter:: my first grandson

--for AnZe in Shenzhen whom I cannot wait to hold

thinking stone means this gleaming thing:: any more
wage slave:: my heart in the gulls eye at dawn
gulls dip and yaw over the whitecaps:: last years oak leaf
snow squall iris by the tree:: Mercedes front-end 
cracking my eyes:: headlights on the Maple
holding your hand in my dream:: the sound of the wind
hoary waves crashing the shore in pitch:: the decade fades
first impressions
in last nights snow
fox tracks
silent night
a glass of whisky