amid ruins,
sitting on a worn stone,
knowing ancients
valley below
suggested but unseen
who hauled water?
dry stacked stones
placed with precision
by masters
jungle swallowed,
spreading like a fire, but
imperceptibly
tell me, Old Stone,
what secrets did you witness
post-chisel?
icy river
all the world stands still, or
pretends to
snow deadens
sounds and signs of life
a blank slate
the breeze dies
then the snow fall ceases
time freezing
deep footprints
tell of a man and a dog
hunting rabbit
an old church
the surrounding snow
is unmarred
cold white circle
deformed in its reflection
upon black waters
howling lunatics
don’t make me fearful,
quiet ones do
glowing clouds
streaked thinly through the sky
moon’s canvas
silent evil
slid through night, watched over
by a cold moon
the moon is out
my bones have gone cold
i blame it not
one-winged seed
drops, twirling to earth,
in slant descent
twisted petals
painted by textured brush
fall as one
porch-sitter views
a corn crib and red barn;
all slouch with age
trust all lambs
trust tigers to be tigers
trust man, not
if a sight
can quicken your pulse
it’s love… or death
listless drift
metronomic mast sweeps
the sea’s mute tune
snapping flags
halyard and hook ting the pole
spastic anthem
creek burble
amid the cedars
stream unseen
cave echoes
nothing that moves by sight
avoids bumped head
empty bars
rarely known in nature
end robustly
a crow caws
standing on a stout post
black eye watching
a child wonders,
beyond this rainy valley,
is it white?
nothing scurries
but mushrooms sprout
wet forest floor
lonely bus stop
one man waits for a nearly
empty bus
streaks of blue
viewed through cloudy skies
a bird hops
at the seashore
breath syncs to lapping waves
sea teachings
in between
the inhale and exhale
lies stillness
a breath missed
life takes a moment’s pause
mind is void
slow the breath
drawing each instant out
slow your world
breath control
lets one drop the sails
in rough seas
no birds, nor boar
not even a squirrel,
yet poop abounds
quiet forest
bare trees and thick carpet
decay time
mushrooms grow
in dense clusters on stumps
ringed in moss
earthen hues
far as an eye can see
but for moss green
so short the day
slantwise sunshine from
dawn to dusk
cloud fallen
resting on muddy ground
and limp dry grass
lulled to sleep
staring out a window
into the fog
faint edges
reality is swallowed
by the fog
foggy morn
black branch scribbles
in the gray
what shapes become,
edges softened and deformed,
fog monsters
lights blinking
colors bold and bright
inner child wakes
shops shuttered
hunched against frigid wind
lone soul stands
inner sanctum
a fire sparks and glows
skin flushes
a tinseled tree:
tropical dissonance
in Kuala Lumpur
pine, wood smoke,
& a vinyl bike seat
holiday scents
Tiger Riding for Beginners 