stuck inside
the dog gets up
and turns around
autumn nightfall
dropping my son off
for something else
where I sit
on my usual bench
remains of a nut
on the trail again...
walking deeper
into myself
after our visit
in quiet, the things
I forgot to say...
Halloween-
to a simple question
my life story
first snow gone-
this steady need
to practice
I choose one-
a roomful of chairs
without people
crickets...
my eyes closed
to the day
lunar eclipse-
back inside something I did
or didn't do
letting her
walk all over me
ladybug
back home
these trees I knew
in all their seasons
another full moon
my checkbook
still unbalanced
snow filling
our tracks into the woods
by heart
undefended:
in the cold rain
their snow fort
long wait alone
in the parking lot...
a dog in the next car
keeping quiet
the day's last light
on new grass
she wanders away...
her snail disembarks
the matchbox truck
alone
in the middle of a crowd
someone I knew
always takes his time
the custodian watches
the floor dry
peepers
my daughter whispers
something she knows
reading her letter-
suddenly aware of the look
on my face
from room to room
on the Clue board
a tiny spider
by the ocean...
again filled
with emptiness
reading into it
as much as i can
my life
a few floors down
in another building
someone else looks out
so much we have...
yet between us too
an emptiness
a few snow flakes
entering the woods
silence
cold dusk
my thoughts pass through
a crow flying by
boardwalk-
we go to one end
then the other
the plant in the window
has gone everywhere
it can
spring frost-
the park cannon aimed
at the church
in the empty room
two quiet types
father and son
despite
the development
deer path
a flat tire
near my father's grave
I stop to visit
in love
bicycling
into the snowstorm
the spread of stars
wind moves the snow
from where it fell
between bites
from the apple
he stares...
lingering in bed...
the ceiling has no
answers
flea market-
the Rubik's cube
already solved
snow fall-
my daughter asks where
we are going...
left and right
he follows the way
of his kicked stone
winter stars-
our meeting
un-arranged
wondering ...
will the squirrel find
half of what it buried?
most of the rain
not falling
on me
mower won't start
busy as a bee
a bee
straight out
of a dream
another day
steady rain
a pickle
in the parking lot
the dates
on the coins
I give up...
spring
removing the neighbors
from view
the chainlink fence
runs into
high water
the crow
in me
gets a response
the habit of looking
where it used to be
- the mirror
garden walk-
she checks herself
in the pond
taking off my clothes
my heart
closer...
alone in the waiting room
checking the plant
for reality
droning plane fades out...
how little difference it makes
what age I am
my child asks
what keeps the moon up?
you do, I reply
walking
through more
- my life
being there
in the woods
a tree falls
cross country runner
no one ahead
or behind
each
of the rain drops
that touch her...
mountaintop:
giving back
each breath
free spirits
a year later
they return
the way
rain takes
the mountain
for my son:
lifting a stone
to see
watering their plants
seeing their house
without them
rehearsing
the reading
to no one
the clouds
calligraphy
reads...
day break-
from the bread truck's roof
frost swirls
dreary day...
jack o'lantern collapsed
on it's grin
crane
on the horizon
holds a cloud
at the cliff edge
my whole life
behind me
closed-
deep inside
a light
under the manhole
the night gives
a gurgle
after the thriller
the wideness
of bed
river bank swallows-
my beer label
peels easily
lying in the leaves-
the sun shares the shape
of her corduroys
the hypnotist
describes her technique...
sound of the stream
swallows sweep
through the cemetery
- fresh grave
stiff wind-
shadows of things
stretch on the street
