April 7 2022

 The time of happening is here

sun has rediscovered its purpose 

in waking up the fruit trees

prodding vines into looking alive again

stolid stodgy oak has the tiniest leaves 

apple blossoms went from one to many

all in one day

The time of miracles is here

and to think once I thought

those only had happened in times before I was alive 

remembering then

in the newness of being

fairies and elves upon the land

The time of glassy mornings is here

there might be ice fringes

more likely air crisp in the dawn

afternoons nap warm

evenings with winking fireflies 

pink skies 

star drenched nights 

promises intended to be fulfilled 

true spring

#NaPoWriMo

These things that matter

 I saw the corner of a room

in a photograph

distinctly bronze

(one of my most prized colors)

sheets of mica hang by the window 

old heavy dark metal Cuban kind fan

sits on the floor 

There is old glass 

teapots, one Japanese

the other graceful pale antler colored ceramic

Two sculptures

horizontal twigs and vertical metal

illuminated as if by crystal filtered sunlight

Yesterday I wanted to come home with a certain crystal 

a single garnet big as a loquat 

it would have gone onto a tray

in the corner with my pewter goblet

tarot wrapped in blue habotai silk

wand carved from desert willow

juniper scent candle poured into cement cup

These things that matter 

tell a small part of our story

one poem among many

remind us how we are different 

how we are alike 

The only photo I display of a person 

Robert stands in front of a sculpture in Big Sur

slightly larger than person sized of lovers in white marble

he holds his guitar 

built by Lester DeVoe

his elbow matches the curve of a knee

his head follows the line of an elbow

his knee opposite her knee

a step lower

the guitar repeats the lines of heads and shoulders above

in the right corner spikes of agave balance the curves that ascend vertically 

These things that matter 

in their certain ways

the garnet, from when I was a child

bedroom corner table covered with rocks 

there are garnets here now

necklace of faceted stones 

still, not the natural stone with its own facets 

deeply red like a translated heart 

you can hold in your hand

#NaPoWriMo

April 4 2022

 Once we lived on the lip of a volcano

evidence of the living earth

hot sulphur breath

restless stirrings vibrating land beneath our feet

I cannot think of that moving earth

without seeing hula

graceful hands describing liquid rock

emerging in lower Puna

Cracks opened in the sidewalks

hot volcano breath emerged

then fountains of red 

about to make rivers to the sea

It was the ultimate act of becoming

fierce, relentless 

earth making and earth breaking

healed skin hard lava scars thirty feet deep

We lived there ten years

through sixty thousand earthquakes

there were tsunamis

nature showing off any old time

Now we have a quiet house

on a plain street

in the middle of the old city

here we celebrate becoming 

tamely 

with trowels and pecan shells

we watch for the trees to bud

flowers to open

over the quiet earth

There will be wildflowers 

Robert will finish the wall

there will be grapes

lavender will bloom 

We went from hundreds of trees

in the rainforest

to this silent lonely oak 

six aspen out beyond the wall

tender leaves beginning to open

I am ready for nature’s calmer drama

even though I made peace with the trembling earth 

even though I belonged to the lonely island 

and the island to me

as proof look into my heart

listen to the mele 

be the undulating land itself a moment

feet joined with the rhythms of home

#NaPoWriMo

In Memoriam

 In the latter months 

of pandemic year 2020

we gave up expectations 

Fully wrapped in the uncertainty 

we became travelers along empty highways 

it was the land without people

Into the loneliness 

once wild land bearing remnants 

artifacts of travel 

hardy desert weeds grown through concrete where you could have bought gas in another time

We rolled along during The Pause

through the twilight zone between the before and the after

Feeling ourselves near the finish

that time when the pandemic fades into just another piece of history

we mark the moment the official pandemic deaths in this country surpasses one million 

May their spirits find sanctuary 

within the mountain folds

upon the lonely winds

rest within herb steeped shadows

of this our continent

lux aetеrna, luceat eis …

requiem aeternam dona eis domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis

*final words are from Rutter Requiem

On Becoming

 He did not expect to live that long

they said of the hundred year old man

would that age be something 

you plan out

notes on the paper calendar

Age being something that happens 

time flows around you 

a sacred wind sloughing off 

what you are seen to be

wind that bends you into supplication 

Do not be misled

thinking age creeps up

as it envelopes you there is a roar

your skin cannot keep you enclosed

you feel your soul becoming restless

most of all

you become conscious 

there is no undoing of mistakes

As bones once broken howl in rain

those parts that could not heal 

without scars

show up in dreams 

unrequited love notes from your own self

demanding your embrace before the end of all and everything 

#NaPoWriMo

#joinme

Replenish the Earth

 Replenish the earth

Let our language set direction

Neither rubbish nor garbage

remains of tomatoes

shreds of uneaten lettuce 

cobs of corn, fallen leaves

wishing to become fertile soil

Simple to give back to the earth

what we do not eat 

what falls from trees

trees that speak through the compacted traces of what once greened the surround

trees know dirt

Earth feels trussed 

entrapped

bound by asphalt ribbons 

her breathing inhibited with concrete masks

her pores overcoated by too much everything 

Replenish the earth

darken the soil 

get generous with peels 

soggy coffee grounds

wilted daffodils 

Make new dirt! 

#NaPoWriMo

#compost

Front of the House

In the front of our house

a courtyard is forming

what used to be there 

gone 

what used to be there

had been worse than emptiness 

soil covered with a barrier upon which gravel lay

In the front of our house

there is now emerald lawn

Wildflowers have tiny green tops in one corner

Over there, an apple tree spreads arms tipped with buds

Here, the stoic oak has not found spring

Lilacs give birth to green buds and tiny tight promises of flowers and fragrance

In the front of our house 

circles of smooth basalt pebbles 

Quartz and pretty little marbles 

looking like agates 

will be laid in cement for a path 

curving past the fountain to the door

In front of our house

grape vines teeter in their cartons

awaiting arch 

arch in need of heavy footings

Garden of becoming 

within walls 

walls to hold away shards of chaos

chaos created by people

by people not even here

Outside the garden wall here

once mighty Rio Grande

has pulled back 

defined now the narrow riparian ribbons

While inside the garden wall

sand soil shows river was here

here before the chaos 

churning through this desert 

creating green edges to everything 

#NaPoWriMo

National Poetry Writing Month

A poem a day in April