Riders

all we can know

inverted vaporous adrift

under air as if underwater

losing track of up

all we can do

holding into the wind

crossing paths

calling out as we go

Same Old Song

sky coming down again

baby it won't be long

unitl i'm tying on

my flying shoes.

—lyrics by Townes Van Zandt

Urn of Rationale

To see the world as line and form

as with an artitst's eye

is to map emptiness 

negative space nearly all

of the expanding universe

moreso now than a line ago

always more without end

thus am i happy

with a little snow

between the stems.

Pastoral

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Forty years ago

i planted this post

when everything

felt new and

promising.

The horses

are dead.

Keep moving.

Midwinter

Let him sleep

here in the midst of things

where he has decided to stop,

going back to the beginning,

advancing to the end,

both unbearable.

He has his story.

Walk quietly by.

Do not give up hope.

—Extraction from the prose poem, "A Foreshortened Journey," by Louise Glück.

Internals

deeper we step into the subterfuge

our works stacked up behind us

clues to who we were in truth

the silent voice behind our eyes

all we ever needed from the world

was what we could not find inside.

Turnaround

i told you you should stay

it's good that you came back

the storm ends at our feet.

reading music

Groundhog Day

Click to enlarge.

Rising as mist in this tear-hung world,

The chances to savor the feeling of feeling.


No reruns among vanishing shadows.