The jealous anger of Zeus
Had no bounds yet
There was wisdom too shown
When Prometheus was bound
To endless disembowelment
For revealing the power
Of fire to humankind,
Perhaps prophesy as well,
The outcome foreknown.

As the gods, in their day
Rose against the Titans,
In turn mankind rose
Against the gods.
With the gods and godless
Fallen into war and ruin
The earthbound Titans
Again hold sway.

The Palette Shifts

In the morning cast
Of sun light
After an early hard freeze
The palette shifts
The Fall glamor gone, 
Giving way
To warmer tones 
And shades,
Tans and browns,
Dried flowers, dried grass, 
Red kinnikinnick,
And ebony-branched,
Silver green sage,
The natural world 
A visual gift opening 
Wondrous this river
Of light and time.

Surviving January

Am I more than
My dog’s doorman?

As the Earth warms
Will Armageddon be
Low fat, vegan, bug-eating,
Lactose and gluten free?

No longer myth
The walking dead rain down death.
War, and mayhem everywhere,
And vampire capitalists thrive
On the blood, body, and brains
Of living souls.

And yet eastward,
Ultra-thin, a crescent moon,
The foothills westward red,
A cottonwood tree, charcoal sketched,
Sturdy trunks ebony and bronze
Against an amethyst sky,
Its last dry leaves sparkled golden
By the morning sun.

Starry Night

There is a steep aloneness

Here in the silence and depth

Of the starry night sky.

This is not a world

For fragile souls, yet

Still we are of the Earth,

Its strength and resilience,

Its mountains, oceans,

And flowing streams

Urgent with teeming life,

And too of this Universe

Of burning suns whirling

Across time and space,

Life ever in movement,

Stillness and death surely

Only the makings of myth.

The measure of humanity

Begins and ends thus here

On this whirling path

Of fellow living travelers.

Only time is truly ours.

It is a lost belonging,

The connection to place,

The Earth and one another,

That fuels the emptiness,

The pain and cruelty

That scar both the Earth

And the human heart.

Time Capsule

Time Capsule

An errant baseball lying

Among the fallen apples

Of an overhanging tree

In hand has become a tactile

Time capsule bursting

With innocence and memory.

Baseball was summer

And sandlots, favorite bats

And big league teams,

Whiffle balls, heroic stars.

The town had Old Timer baseball,

Ages eight to fourteen,

And the Delta Blues,

A semi-pro, B League team

With games held at night,

“Under the lights”.

Foul balls into the neighboring

Small zoo would startle

The peacocks into alarm

And calls of “Help! Help!”

I knew a girl then already

Arriving at a philosophy of life,

While I wondered only

At the best care

Of a leather glove.

Of a Moment, Outdoors

The startled bark

And raised neck hair

Of my dog upon

Meeting a mushroom

Un-before seen

In the middle of

His accustomed path.


A broad-tailed hawk

Spiraling sunward,

Riding a thermal updraft—

Days later a raven

Rising in the same.


A tiny intrepid spider

Parasailing across my yard

On a thin silken thread.


Multiple popcorn

Gray and yellow bursts

Of whirling burrowing bees

Emerging from underground.


The summer yellow petal fall

Of a golden raintree,

Falling and fallen silent,

Like the onset of snow.

Tierra Nueva


Tierra Nueva

In this random pick-up-sticks, double helix

Melting pot amalgam and gene pool diaspora

Of multiracial physiognomy, skin color,

And multilingual saga, rhythm, and song

Of European, African, Asian, Semitic,

And Native Peoples world and voice

That is La Tierra Nueva, Las Americas,

What is it, here today, to be a person,

To be, certifiably, a human being,

And can we, that being, intervene

Upon our predisposed tribal fears,

Prejudice, and self judgement of value

And humanity based on heritage,

Wealth, gender, and skin tone?

Can or can’t we?  Are we, the People,

This mixed breed, capable or culpable?

The Apple Blossom Pool

On the placid, limpid

apple blossom pool

water striders in hunt

skate and skip

among white petals

fallen, floating gently adrift.

A gust of wind,

quickening, fills the air

and dimpled pool again

with speckling sails of light.

Startled waterside

a band, a bursting multiplicity

of small blue butterflies

scatter, swirling,

“winking and blinking”,

in periwinkle petaled flight.

The Sudden Robin

The Sudden Robin


The sudden robin

And following, falling,

Meadowlark lilt sound,

Resound, echoing and cascading

With and in my meandering heart,

With the selfsame pastel startlement

Of lupine and yarrow and wild rock rose

Bursting unbidden, source unseen,

Through the evening light watercolor

Wash of grays and blues settling

Suffused in soft concert cast across

The many mottled greens

Of this wondered

And wandering world.


Taking Time

taking time


taking time to see,

to clearly see, the tan

curling, swirling

stance and dance

of sunlit, windblown

winter grass


taking time to hear,

to note the chorus,

the lilt and line

of winds passing overhead

through a long-needled,

red-barked, ponderosa pine


taking time to read,

to carefully read the tangled

fractal calligraphy

of countless, leafless,

living branch and tree


taking time to let seep

deep within

the sweet fragrance,

the shadow and light,

this lasting breath

of earth and life


and taking time to never

let pass by unseen

the silvered gleam

of lingering ice

in a trickling, dancing,

softly singing stream