A Look in the Eye

Every what has a how and every how a why…

It’s why we ponder the sky and the leaves in its eye,

looking out over endless blue.

You ought to go join him, you know–

sit with your back against a mountain and breathe deep;

look up and down and sideways until all is in reverse

and you can pull up pines and pick them back apart.

They are, it is, what it shall be, in this sea of gravity.

October 6, 2013

Love in Part



my heart


time to heal



looked inside

and seen


of my own



to forgive

my sins


you’ll find love

in part.

March 28, 2014

Reading Beachside

Perhaps we come from God,

like currents of the sea siding with doom

while unwashed humans stick to gloom–

hard lives sheltered under frazzled rock,

under fragile tree branches ready to fall

and commit you to a balancing act of one:

words on the page, walks on the beach,

white sand, hot.

“You can stay here all day,”

the wind tells me while I lay, tracing figures

taught to me as a child, lurching for a hope

I found in my first book– one about the ocean.

Sea gulls cry out as if they, too,

can hear our human song: current take me

with you, so my words can go home,

go home, now.

February 10, 2014

A Note to Love

Is it alright if I call you mine,

even when we were never together?

Can two hearts not still be linked?

In my mind can be your sorrows,

in my heart your dreams–

if only you had let me in.

And yet I feel a pleasant calm

in knowing you are mine,

but still one, our own.

Stand under the sun’s warm breath

and feel me;

walk on the ocean’s side 

and know you pull me,

in with the tide with a soul 

I knew how to know, even now.

I wish to you a happy heart

that is never heavy,

a bottomless pit

that you can rise out of–

even without me, above.

March 10, 2014

Smells I Knew

High school soccer practice,

runs on cut grass, run up

the thirteen steps to my bedroom,

today drenched in lemon– a Pledge

-top-coat-finish  from mom’s all-day cleaning,

unpacking my sweat-tossed jersey

from last week’s game now washed

and folded, her standing over sweet stew

she greets on the stove, steam following me

to my room on the second floor,

to my middle school Unsung Hero

trophy that has a strange feel to it,

a nice ring to it, until my nose finds

the bed’s freshly pressed sheets, smelling

of Downey and just a hint of mom.

 March 4, 2014