So soon the month of June

So soon the month of June

Cottonwood falling snow

Chandelier yellowwood 

Now the youngest of know

Slabs of stones are warming

The brighter green aglow

The tadpoles are teeming

Fawns following their doe

Resources replenished

Resources replenished 

Trees and spaces between

Staring upward wiser

Where squirrels nest and dream

The openness widens

Day into tomorrow 

The sky an ocean dip

The sun yellow yarrow

Were we just sharing air

Were we just sharing air

Did wave or wind persist

People peeling without

An argument or fist

Silent bubbles bouncing

Out of frame and the days

Whatever happened to

What brought our parting ways

Melancholy refrain

Melancholy refrain

Rain rising from the street

Back up to the clouds where

The skies and darkness meet

The weak stemmed peonies 

The saturated green

Red robins robbing worms

Overwhelm to serene

We turn around and years

We turn around and years

Ships becoming lifeboats

Happy for surviving

And the wisdom it gloats

Still embracing voyage

Not resigned to memoir

Inviting the ocean

Southern Cross and North Star 

Internal lightning strike

Internal lightning strike

Knowing the mark was made

Clouds cannot make hard turns

The sky cannot cast shade

But my body thunders

Rain pouring through my veins

Followed by a cold front

And change in weathervanes

Not a mountain or slope

Not a mountain or slope

Touches of forest stretch

A plateau promising

Yawns of a pencil sketch

Sleeping simplicity 

Our self-conscious breathing

Swallows are sweeping both

Our abandoned sheathing 

Twenty-three years ago

Twenty-three years ago

On a Tuesday evening

Meeting with Ray Justice

Just before your leaving

Close to eight o’clock and

Yellowwood tree flowers

Hung like bright chandeliers 

To light the darkest hours

Emptying my pockets

Emptying my pockets

Dreams became souvenirs 

Currency not spent might

As well be boutonnières

Tightening of the belt

And the shoelaces tied

Prepared for day to day

But not should have or I’d 

A before before me

A before before me

Green as the start of Spring

Hopeful as a robin

Or a migrating wing

The wiser eye still sealed

The heart not as refined

Changing and grappling to

Widen the open mind

The contents of the World

The contents of the World

Tsunami in the heart

The calmness of Brahms breath

Turns to Rite of Spring start

Puncturing peace with push

That will not stop until

I find my sense of self

Amongst the overfill 

Enthusiasm’s rope

Enthusiasm’s rope

My old hands are sweating 

Stalling in the climb I’m 

Assessing my fretting 

Adrenaline shedding

Purpose into question

Must chinny up inches

Satisfy ascension 

Rain falling without sound

Rain falling without sound

Blurred reflections in black

As if love was napping

And colors will come back

Time passing glance to glance

Footsteps soft as pale light

Attention to detail

Now lost in some mere trite

Cape Horn’s narcissism

Cape Horn’s narcissism 

Was disguised as morale

I’ve become gray rock in

The Panama Canal

Another Magellan

May set sail and head south

No pledge of allegiance 

Will billow from my mouth

New mornings are so old

New mornings are so old

We are fresh out the gate

Permission to forget

Excitement to create

And again and again

The gallant march and dirge

Fragmentation and forge

Resignation and urge

It was your breath in mine

It was your breath in mine

Concentric circles reigned

Then out of your shadow

My center tree regrained 

And the mark in the bark 

Time and growth helped to heal

Understanding it was 

My empathy and feel

Emerging emotions

Emerging emotions

Like Jackson Pollock paints

Or Mark Rothko layers

Of both boldness and faints

Still feeling the rush of

Abstract and undefined

Waiting for clarity

A Vermeer or refined

In the great compression

In the great compression 

A dried flower fighting

The beauty and scent of

The new and inviting 

Like thin tissue paper

Imagine and feel days

When it was offering

Its nectar and amaze

Grown so tall that so few

Grown so tall that so few

Can climb to trim the crown

Wild and untamable

Live life until sawed down

Avenues like sun rays 

Reach further out beyond

Change with the ease of breeze

Grow with the flare of frond

We witnessed and parted

We witnessed and parted

Perhaps the imprints left

Faded as time washed the

Great reality theft

A fall from a high shelf

Or the pedestal shake

Some events are still as

Fresh as this morning’s break

Someone just beginning

Someone just beginning 

My words not holding weight

Easier said than done

And long washed from my slate

Like Everest calling

Death Valley far away

Strive for the first base camp!

What is it that you say?

Life without normalcy

Life without normalcy

Undefinable roots

Twists in the grain and bark

And misunderstood fruits

Sole intention of be

Having pi in the math

Stirring the elements

To create my own path

Morning with painted light

Morning with painted light

Loose sheets of blank paper

Winter leaves a desert

Across its long taper

First the bulbs then bushes

Then the trees joining in

All the while evergreens

Guard steady with a grin 

No use in worrying

No use in worrying

Like dried blood in the ear

This is not the moment

This may not be the year

Sketchy plans tomorrow

The store in a few days

Rain always forecasted 

Time is never a maze

We reached the horizon

We reached the horizon

From there we could clearly

See all the waiting dreams 

From afar loved dearly

And their beckoning call

Collective whispers shout

We are here and will wait

This is your soul’s about

Swallowing the darkness

Swallowing the darkness

And gardening the bleak

Building daily structures

So Life muscles won’t weak

We are together in

Slowness and in repair

Sketches into paintings

And small steps into stair

In a wider wonder

In a wider wonder

The questions are flooding

And in this Overwhelm

No fruit and all budding

Back to the thinner line

So hard to walk narrow

Reaching for ideals and

Aiming high the arrow

Staring at the eclipse

Staring at the eclipse

The moon can’t fully block

No warmth and no light just

A dark side and some rock

In a brief film noir

The city lights are fooled 

It took me years but now

I am completely schooled

Each day life opens up

Each day life opens up

Be it mountain or plain

Are we not together 

From hectic to mundane

For fireworks and rainfalls

Watching sparrows make nest

Will the red tanagers

Pass through this year for rest

And so what is the worth

And so what is the worth

If profound should be found

Personal victory

Still silent in the sound

And so the ribbon breaks

With no one in the stands

Pure gratification 

The run-on sentence and’s

In a gray April rain

In a gray April rain

On a road heading east

Crossroads bridge above us

No cloud breaks in the least

Cocooning in clothing

Yet, still a holiday

Momentum of moments

What else is there to say

My compassionate heart

My compassionate heart

It came with forgiveness 

The harshness hammered out

Between us, an isthmus 

Sorry for your sadness

And for such a hard blow

What is lost forever

Just wanted you to know

On a red clover bloom

On a red clover bloom

My wings up in prayer

On the foot of a hill

Somewhere in a nowhere

Like a gravestone where time

Has worn away the name

A shout without echo

Unrecorded exclaim

Courting oblivion

Courting oblivion

Slow dancing with one hand

On the backside of joy

At the end of a spand

Requesting a polka

Or perhaps a high leap

I am not a tulip

Closing at night to sleep

Generations and waves

Generations and waves

Between us and eyes fall

We can never be owned

And yet we miss the call

Flowers grow in grasses

Sometimes the stream still swells

The ferns multiply and

Years without parallels

The only blue is sky

The only blue is sky

Riddles left to guesses

The feet are not heavy

Past and future lesses 

Red sunset, yellow rise

Green about to begin

While the world is whooshing 

Saying yes, let it in

Living on the bias

Living on the bias

Without the fabric rail

Like the string on a kite 

That angles to the tail

Not the road less taken

There never was a road

Hansel and Gretel’s crumbs

Not seeds that could be sowed

Across a grand canyon

Across a grand canyon

The river will not rise

In its final sunset

As the waterbed dries

There are answers in voids

The absence of carving

Homecoming to farmland

To thrive and end starving

Permission not granted

Permission not granted

Even with a checkmate

No matter the winning

Self-value will not grate

Rug pulled out from under

Shouts of a sky falling

I know who I am, no

Matter the name calling

A day with finial

A day with finial

The treble clef singing

Blossoms and blooms bursting

Nesting birds upbringing

Clouds still on still waters

Night planes now heading west

Chasing the sunlight while

We slowly turn to rest

Beyond failed momentum

Beyond failed momentum

Magnolias too soon

Dismal expectations 

Not the bright stars but moon

Galileo perplexed

Icarus on the couch

Albatross for dinner

Laughing hyenas grouch

Uninvited sunlight

Uninvited sunlight

On the seat of our chair 

Making great company

Bringing brightness to air

But with this cloud rolling 

Light abruptly parted

No more visits today

The night so uncharted 

A briefness, the landscape

A briefness, the landscape

Became words and then lines

Breathing in the bustle

From highways to the vines

The push of Spring rising

Like hostas in my legs

Sensing new beginnings,

Destinations and eggs

My compassionate heart

My compassionate heart

Left too long on the vine

Overripe and dropping 

Unsuitable for wine

Regrettably lapsing

Tomorrow shows no sign

Of better feelings or

Any hope of incline

A nothing souvenir

A nothing souvenir

Like a worn pair of shoes

As lasting as rainbows 

Deeper than ocean blues

A never forgotten 

A meaning no other

A definition or

An exact twin brother 

Where is divinity

Where is divinity 

Halos are hollow rings

Prayers are merely words

Promises broken wings

Reality ruling

Conquering moments still

Fantasy is fiction

The truth a stronger will

Pure morning is a sketch

Pure morning is a sketch

Spring’s paint brush tip touching

Just as magnolias 

Free themselves from clutching

Prior to profusion

Or late summer bleaching

But in the roots and limbs

Out from nowhere reaching

Feelings pouring like paint

Feelings pouring like paint

Not a color lacking

Their mixing making a

Graduated blacking

But full transparency

By standing in the light

All my feelings mix and

Together they make white

Rhizomes wriggle below

Rhizomes wriggle below

Worse than wild strawberries 

Or the clever clover

Neither design varies

Quiet creepers choking

Boundaries must be set

Like potting bamboo to

Remove the pending threat

Happy without moonlight

Happy without moonlight

Sunny days are aglow

Raindrops falling sparkle

The banished moon, skid-row

Freezing cold in the shade

Or taking the sun’s warmth

Without giving any

Or providing true north

The pages are flying

The pages are flying

Spineless book pages stack

Stalagmites of wood pulp

Tall trees we can’t get back

In the midst of mundane

That clover, a lone oak

An individual 

Appearing like some bloke

The sky does not answer

The sky does not answer

The stars too far to hear

The sun took Icarus

The ground all those too dear

An empty Big Dipper

In the search for greater

But it’s my contentment 

Life as Art curator

Memory oasis

Memory oasis

Have I made this mirage

Covered graffiti with

Watercolor collage

Is it all forgotten 

The full moon a crescent 

Has time distorted time

Chaos calmly pleasant

To turn around and gone

To turn around and gone

Distance already struck

Cowering darkness cloaks

In the forever stuck

Letting go and changing

To imagine then strive

To celebrate and cheer

In this moment alive

Poems are not on the

Poems are not on the

Periodic table

Personal elements

Steady or unstable

They are not DNA

They are glimpses and trace 

And not definitions 

But mere moments of space

The days spent retracing

The days spent retracing

Filled with clouds and downpours 

And evaporation’s

Invisible vapors

Building campfires of thoughts

No canopy cover

New possibilities 

A frontier discover 

Enlightenment beacon

Enlightenment beacon

Seeking nature’s repair

Reemerging season

Forward progress declare

My heart needs a tuning

The world strumming a chord

Cirrus clouds returning

All shades of green restored 

All the bells are broken

All the bells are broken

The dance steps are stumbles

Three-legged race over

Manhole cover rumbles

The background now foreground 

Constellations unhinge

The sun is not setting

Just the world in a spin

Revelry rising up

Revelry rising up

Declaration of we

Our bejeweled bonanza 

Bright as glints on a sea

Our prosperity selves

Generous avenues

Opportunity floods

Beginnings and renews

A pin oak tree became

A pin oak tree became

Twisted wisteria

Before our eyes slowly

With time superior

Yet our hands together 

Constant compassion

Out true love never dies 

Or falls out of fashion

Holding our breath longer

Holding our breath longer

No deeper can we go

A life without sunlight

In the waters below

Past the hammered waves and

Below the squinting burst

Plunging past the pressure

Into the great immerse

In the unevenness

In the unevenness

Unfair play in private 

The tar and feathering

The hijack and pirate

In level playing fields

A witness referee

Then your dissonance turns

To open harmony

Hearing my own echo

Hearing my own echo

Neither I nor mountain 

Changed coordinates like

Tossed coins in a fountain 

The echo on return

Now has lesser meaning 

I opt to duck since the

Mountain refused leaning

Images failing to

Images failing to

Find annunciation 

A foreign language with

Only punctuation 

A pause, exclamation 

The long burning question

The landscape answering

Words just mere impression 

Chasing the long cherished

Chasing the long cherished

The glimmers of meaning

The we definitions 

The objects of keening

Unmistakably us

Our strange flowers blooming

Constellation hoarding

Captive fireworks booming

It is our afternoons

It is our afternoons

I would etch into plates

The reprints and recalls

From sun high to set lates

Clouds and trees in script scrolls 

The roadway unspooled threads

The ease and exercise

From daffodils to sleds

Cornucopia flames

Cornucopia flames

Passion the burning fuel

And love using all names

No arrow, key, or tool

Acres of soil wrapping

Dreams beyond doming blue

Mountains overlapping

Nature is always new

Beyond understanding

Beyond understanding 

Unheard of can’t be heard 

The fog never lifting

The dismiss as absurd

Pioneering ahead

Rider crop convictions 

Accepting the abstract

Without the descriptions

Owlers stole counting sheep

Owlers stole counting sheep

The night a twisted knot

Without dreams and shut eye

The air a Rorschach blot

Restless legs are rustling

On rungs without climbing

Pennies for my thoughts that

Are nickel and diming

Tragedy averted

Tragedy averted

Plurals are now single

Gone are the welcome mat

And the front door shingle

The world is left outside

The chaos and tedium

The periodic chart

Except for helium

Searching straight ahead but

Searching straight ahead but

I was still there for you

Age is taking us like

Moments no longer new

I am over here and

Will never stray to Fars

Should you be Jupiter

And should myself be Mars

Intersections always

Intersections always

And not just east and west

North and south, up and down

Or answers no’d and yes’d

Choices are endless with 

No directions to lost

Change at any moment 

And not just two lines crossed 

Simple beauty billows

Simple beauty billows

In a cloud or babbles

As a small wooded stream

Or V-shaped formed gaggles

Silent home movies where

People like parade floats

Slowly in time wave like

Gently rocking sailboats

A stranger’s rejection

A stranger’s rejection 

From some unknown bias

Like ageism or self

Righteousness and pious

Little eye contact and 

Few are the words between

Their way of judging I’m 

Not to be heard or seen

The unthreaded needle

An unthreaded needle

The fabric without hem

The past ghosting today

The future short of gem

Securing the moment

And not knotting the threads

No wish, want or worry

And no getting ahead’s

Ribbons of tree branches

Ribbons of tree branches

Packages without bows

Striped paper of car lights

In both white and red rows

Rain is reigning for days

Behind clouds outer space 

Is shut out with the sun

And moon not showing face 

No peer understanding

No peer understanding 

Again the painted bird

Like a four leaf clover

Or a slanted rhyme word

No commonality 

Loving music so much

But not the same music 

So our hearts cannot touch 

Steam rising, snow falling

Steam rising, snow falling

Streetlights on empty streets

Traffic lights and walk signs

Blink in their incompletes

Photograph negative

Skies are dark, buildings lit

A sense of belonging

In days that do not fit

Here by you, beside you

Here by you, beside you

The sun still peeking through 

Like two white clouds that will

Never join to storm brew

Let’s not speak about time

Let moments multiply

Let us not see shadows

Just cumulus up high

Volatile as springtime

Volatile as springtime

Firework finale spent

The push and the fervor 

Everything gained and went

Slow turning tornadoes 

Change crept before it leapt 

Not sensing the fury

Adrift above the depth

In this moment knowing

In this moment knowing

And the heart snowplowing 

Warmth was to be had if

Caring was allowing

Untying the hard knots

Regrets ransacking thoughts

Rethinking history

With should haves, could haves, oughts

The twilight like pewter

The twilight like pewter

Our time now archaic

Dialogue and gestures

Missing tile mosaic

Competitive winning

Surpassing gentle hands

DNA not enough

Without compassion glands

On a corner not here

On a corner not here

On a morning not now

In a life not yet may

There be someone somehow

Stepping out, steps in while

Looking forward sees past

Who hears without hearing

And crosses sensing vast

Flowers in the grasses

Flowers in the grasses

And few beside the cropped

These artistic punches 

For those whose guards have dropped

And in human nature

Comfort found in common

But I’m searching for the

Colors in the solemn

Being chased by a kite

Being chased by a kite

Lullabies want opus

Solidifying years

Without hocus-pocus 

Girders not Lincoln Logs

Perfection, purity

They are not the goals just

Less mediocrity

Dignity coveted

Dignity coveted

Unadorned, simplified

Beauty like a humming

As if the daisies sighed

No matter the wet spots

Bodily functions fail

The person haute couture 

But physically in jail

A dream falling out of

A dream falling out of

A hole in the pocket

Like an unclasped neck chain

And slip of a locket

When and how it happened 

Could I have changed that much

No sense it was missing

Having grown out of touch

In my empty space left

In my empty space left

After the fingerprints

Have slowly worn away

The recollection hints

May nature now reclaim

The wonderment of here

Carbon to carbon ends

Until the sense of mere

Mud flung on a daisy

Mud flung on a daisy

I question the divine

Random or formula

Or some other design

And what are the chances

A moonbow in night skies

Rarity in a rare

Answers amongst the why’s 

Early morning snowfall

Early morning snowfall

Clouds are chimney ash gray

A sense of renewal

On this calendar day

Lines cast on frozen lakes

We will see what Spring brings

A change of plans perhaps

As the pendulum swings