Grey Figures in the Mist
No line in the darkness
Dark shadows like little trees
Sparse with one branch
Splashing behind me
Smells like grey salt
and briney things swimming in schools
Morning clouds in the haze
white feathers thud to a stop
water erupts
Blood on the beach
Leaving Sky
It's not something in the orange
instead the dark grey line into the blue
with the trees back-lit
from a gentle night sky
that hasn't yet said goodbye to the sun
The grass is taller than I am
and the rain left it heavy and wet
and the truck is loaded and gassed up
and I'm ready to get
Mountains, Two Parts
One night the lake was black as space
Reflecting stars
And the big mountain slope was half in shadow
But the other half the color of the full moon
Her trees wreathed with snow like scales on a fish
and her mood alive and terrible
She was alive in that place
Communing with the stars
Her slopes shone like metal
And her mood like a red hot sun at noon
Talking the long language of planets, a niche
and I knew she remembered a crucible
I pass her slopes often
and she's not been awake since
I wonder in the long peel of geologic time
did I see her wake once in a million(s) of years
and the lake's young depths, are no longer afraid
Peach Fuzz
Trees are like mold
seas like overripe spots
filled with dew
It's told
she'll sing new auts
when we're through
Gravity
The world is falling apart
I've my corner to live in
and worry to poach in
Like an egg
But when doesn't boil in a bath
Perspective will fill in
like a fish I'm finning
Into the current
Streamlined and scaled
The water sublime
I turn downstream
and let the water carry me
Then it's like gravity
Existing makes you move
Towards the center of mass
Let it translate you
Let go
Bigleaf Maple
I set out in the fall for the east
Bigleaf maples yellow against the green douglas fir
The grey skies faded into the green
At the top of the pass
And the trees change in the east
Ponderosa pines and quaking aspen
Still yellow and green
But the skies blue at last
Until you climb to the north
Into the tallest mountain's silver country
Where golden larch grow
Against cuts of green argillite
Gloaming
I don't know what that word means
but I know how it feels
My ears hear it and it tells
The neurons something
I don't know if it's rightly known
but it doesn't matter anyways
My heart is tied now
To the all unknown
the overwhelm and the volume and the vastness of the world
tiny next to the vastness of the universe and the long long time
of light-years and wondering are we all alone or full of company because if it's a numbers game who would ever know
Kindness is all that matters
and like her sister she's leaving
as a different tribe and a wild thing
the mycelium leaving behind
roots in the old uncertain tree
tracing lines into the heart
Even though she hates to know it might die
Until then I am the sword and the fire
who has known not battle, secret
but stares straight into it's hell
imagining the worst
so as to save the sweetest most tender
wondering at the test
knowing full well it might fail
on the waters of the San Juan
but I'll be damned if I don't try
Lead or old age,
spend it well
Goodbye, just for now
I remember the fire the most
that hardens the steel
strong but brittle
Then quenching
The red hot heat
magnetism gone
Later slow warming
Inside the heart
expanding open
brittleness softens
to the color of straw
arching back
Clear as a day
with a gentle rain
swaying a tall oak
Dreaming of Hammers
hickory handles and wrought steel anvils
hot coals and sparks
and the wind of a tuyere
A slug of steel and a blueprint in the minds eye
that smells like swisher sweets
and half ton gasoline
To red waxy clay and oil paints
prisms of color lead
wooden bases for bronze
Unbidden
The birds sing and the sky dims
False dusk is coming
And a regal old fat ass robin sits on the pigpen fence
The buzz files through my brain
The malt is strong with this one
And the sinking sun makes me think of times long since
The old man and the sea and me
The line and tug and scales and bone
And the thinking son takes me back to the past long tense
Where the white bass roamed and rock bass hid under shelves of stone