on a fence rail,
i saw a scorpion —
dead, but menacing
a dog nudges
its dead companion,
whimpering
after life,
no one contemplates the
Afterlife
grasping the sword
like nothing depends upon
everything
when you accept
that you, too, will be food,
death holds no sway
When they’re dancing down the alleyway
in their death’s head masks,
neither join them nor delay them,
nor stop each one to ask,
“Is there salvation down this way?”
That old valley was too narrow —
too dark for larks and for sparrows
who overflew the shadowy village,
neither stopping to peck nor to pillage,
but just wondering who worshipped
shadow more than sunshine.
Taken in Indianapolis in the summer of 2011.
orange sunset,
casting the lake afire,
cooling to dusk
gibbus moon,
fooling so many souls
who thought you full
shadows thin
as the sun creeps higher
then fatten
tugging seas,
the moon’s unseen hand
is at work
Taken in December of 2019 in Budapest.
It was too early to be dark
-even in winter
-even at this latitude.
A cloud of cataclysm drifted overland.
A distant hilltop remained illuminated,
the dirty gray sheep’s wool and green grass
warmed by yellow light.
But the shadow line glided nearer,
climbing the hill with steady purpose,
soon it would swallow the hilltop and its grazing sheep.
They’d become the dream sheep counted to fall asleep.
But no one was going to sleep this time of day
-cloud or no cloud.
waterfall,
too high to flow, stretches,
hanging mists
crawling snake
in undulating glide
lazes through
taiji lady
does she drift slowly, or
slow the world?
gravity grabs
and slings a comet
soft hand unseen
glazed stone
water rolling over rock
sculpting pebbles
