2005 20090226

Letting the
      vast quiet
      seep in
From Mt. Baker
      to the Olympics
      and up Vancouver Island.
Clear, calm, quiet --
      not the usual blustery cold
      that assaults you --
at South Beach;
Feeling the energy flow.

upper meadows

upon the upper meadows of brief living
her halo fits time’s beauty
thence come unusual formations of sense
and abstractions from dense matter

the under-rind a trying set of postulates
messing in assorted cocktails of feelingfacts
in the romances of sex-bliss goddess bless
them you go whew! bless them goddess forever

a youth-dive into the wave like a scoter
all the more ebullience of potential
coruscated common jeweled salt suds
mango toboggan swimming the swan’s road

that’s all for now muchacha the dawn is come
I’m off to catch the air before I see the sun

shimmer

first cat is best cat is Japonaise-
on the sofa’s firmament of skyrock
firmed in the stices threaded to micro
is allworld the end of the edge is lazyland

laugh at Night sauntering 'round the house
deepsucking the spirit ejaculating
in cool flowing dark packets surrounding
one thought in a mind and your head

leaves a moon on the silver-plated mountain
on the mountain lies a key and a passageway
the child you were is caught fishing for a future face
with which to apprehend the shimmer of argent skin

uncertainty and certain firmities-
how one becomes another in the cyclic dawns!
a kind of opening out into cold knowledge
not knowing who talks or puts a mountain on the tongue

Katrien’s Jin Shin

you begin me crossing
cautiously ashore an African waterhole
with every pulse you know:
I am the flock of nervous birds that measures
every aspect of your approach
with its million-eyed flinching
a dominion defended in reluctant peripheral take-offs

we both know where we are by the sound featherflap
and the confused vexation of pelicans landed in your wake
pulses folding together like wings to a ribcage
your breath is a hope insisting itself
as you walk gently into the center of it all

and know: when the beaks have stopped.
In the last moment
all the black and gray blotches stand perfectly still.

from above I see you are a miracle listening
because you end me
a white sheet rising
high and lovely in a blue whisper wind

Stink

nest

our every name
sky night rain summer garden snow
change time through beautiful storms
of words
that nest in our laughter
together

#1991 20090122

Driving through
    a tunnel of fog
Landmarks
    occasionally
    floating by
Suggesting progress;
Dream state.