If I could fly
I would travel home
carried by the breath of God
silent in flight
simple in sight
Over the desert I’d roam.

If I could dance
I would whirl for you
inspired by the music of life
wrapped in joy
song of Iroquois
The essence of man I’d pursue.

If I could read
I would hear the thought
written by the eternal soul
longing in hand
knowledge in demand
Which over the years I forgot.

If I could see
I would know the destiny
placed by the heart of nature
determined in course
spring of source
Vivid with artistry.

If I could BE
I would choose lasting harmony
supported by faith and hope
constant in measure
life in leisure
A woven intimate tapestry.

-Previously Publishes 1989 Poetic Page


silent the watcher

at the end of language
the world bends
a cool stream through
green hills and listen
see the feeling
bird-feathers sway down
they dance in the draft
that circles your room
circles in circles move
touch speak in the twilight
daydreams trap hopeful
your golden slope of neck
with this morning light
caresses curves
untold illusions of God
and the awful rowing
toward his watchfulness
that harsh standard
of home, yet still
isolation now resembles
nightmares the true solitude
those glints off
darkened water so far
gems captured in light
as dewdrops drip
from fanning forest green


green bananas and song


jungle stories

little red canoe floats
the river, lost in the
moment, jumping off
the rooftops into the
river below, children
gather around the
storyteller as she
creates another wonder,
old Brazilian sayings
and the time he thought
that he could eat all
those green bananas,
homemade dolls made
old corn husks, bows
and arrows, and fishing
with a stick, the river
gave and it took, what
remains only faded
images, stories told
now to youngest
singing, “Menina, vai,
com jeito vai
Senão um dia a
casa cai.”