Latitude

No shock of flight

To bask as an exotic

In the morning and at dusk

To stand with your feet

In the cold puddled mud

Of a muck spreader's tracks;

No shock of flight I said,

But a release of mind

Into the vast expanse

Of the slow familiar,

The deep unfurling

Of the seasons of self.

-

Training for Spring

The Forida parks are wiser,

Quieter, calmer, more civilized

Than The Show farther north.

No blaring scoreboards.

No clangorous giveaways.

Just the crack of the bat, just

The pop of the ball in the glove,

Just the gifted young men

calling out to each other,

Just the game in the sunlight

As it was meant to be played,

Just the open geometric spaces,

Just the flight of the ball,

Just the order of threes,

Just the continuance,

Just the tradition.

-

The Gathering

It's a lifestyle

You hear it often

The choice to be free of choices

To pack dinner most evenings in coolers

Not forgetting the corkscrew

To dine with friends in the sound of surf

To toast sunset over the Gulf

Knowing the richest colors

Are after the sun goes down

That the sweetest hours of the day

Are at the beginning of its end.

-

Living Unknown

When was this self which is like a floating cloud

Ever limited by boundaries of north and south?

Live unknown if you would realize your end.

Avoid the the dust of the times

And the wind of the Northern Pass.

As for literature, it is its own reward.

Fortunately fools pay little attention to it.

–lines of Su Dongpo, 11th Century.

Gulf: View from Venice Beach

Take our picture sir

While the sun is going down on all that's young

While the tide is clear and warm

While the sand supports our bones

Take us now while we're in love and strong

While our days are rich with work

While our nights are free of screams

While our memories give us peace

Take it now and wish us well and say no more.

-

Ghazel of the Real

Field of frozen fog

Rolls toward the sun.


Rioting in Africa,

Haggling in Maryland.


Stand in the cold slush

At the ditch of the mud road.


Armadas of returning birds,

Steam from the vanishing snows.


Chill of the dripping night

Roamed by the recent dead.

-

Chiaroscuro

Fine and fast

falls the dusk

that blends us

as we pass

too brief

to know

too long

to guess

enchanted

by shading

nevertheless

-

Wasps

Warmer, the wasps awaken.

They visit me in the kitchen as I work.

I close them gentlly in a tissue

And release them on the porch.

We mean each other no harm.

And though their sting could kill,

They have no criticism or idea.

Money has no meaning among wasps.

Taoists strive for emptiness.

-

Sunset in the Underwood

black-veined experience

defines the end of days

renders our incineration

beautiful

-

National Bird

People in cars are

aiming their lenses

at eagles perched

by the reservoir

more by the day

people that is

thanks to facebook

and the daily paper

someone could sell

t-shirts and beer

and ammunition

while in this clearing

field a flock of

ordinary robins

alights in the trees

above the mud road

and those turned inward

are happy for the moment.