tide pools

sometimes you can hear your heart beat the tide


tide pools

the stones
sand, rock, shells
tide pools,
hide the words
beneath toes
dug into sand
walking the waited
battered by tide’s coming
and going, the
heart beats
fog and mists
tears of many
lost dreams
fading, rolling
in the foamy
shore, to be
swept away by
ancient waters
that turn rock
to sand

porcelain soldiers

echos from the weeks that passed

now that the heat
is no longer captured
night comes cooler
soothing these trees


remains the monsoon left behind

monsoon’s last vestures
marked only by fog
rolls back into canyons
reverberations of you

the day’s fury settles
with eery silence lingering
hangs heavy as wet rugs
dripping emotive torrents

unsettling stillness
how you haunt my lawn
walking sharp edges
pierces the beauty

worn are your words
remains of this week
like porcelain soldiers
splintered on Italian tile

there with that loving goes

here and there

it was with an edgy silence
that they walked the green
with all the heather scented
opened into a wider space
where melon sky consumed 
the voices
that laughter rose
heavy fog caressed the hills
found her curves and valleys
sways the windswept oak

how yellow the blanket grass
makes stand the dotted green
there with that loving goes
two such fragile hearts frame
a scene from Juliet’s garden
even the moon went pale

(Originally published:   Friday, November 21, 2008)

Such Things

such things that linger


the water lined with debris
blown leaves, twigs and insects swirl
battered by spring’s torrent lies
tiny remains of last night’s storm

wandering thoughts take their time
twisting in the dark corners
nothing but the stillness lingers
yet how like the wind she howls

(Originally published March 1, 2009)

searching for harmony

small steps
turning over the
stones beneath
chipped polish
when the sun gleams
just so
the wild in me
thought threads
into shortened breath
with clasped hands
tap, tap, tap
the hand upon
the forehead
calling up
hold still the frame
so intention can
cohere with

Into the fading

Outsiders along the walks move
Between the cubes and spaces
putting in their time, turning over their thoughts
Some reaching, quietly hopeful
Dodging the quakes like duck and cover
Some entrenched with years spent waiting
Bullying to keep your place as leaders
Resemble the second alley gangs  of youth
where the Burton Street winos live, picked
Their poison, drinking, smiling behind-the-scenes
While what once good descends into the fading