Sunday, October 26, 2014

A Riffle in the Stream

onto creaky knees
she dams the brook
with shining pebbles . . .
time wells up and overflows

a west wind
circles the empty house
petals on the grass
she lets go her names

she comes
to the end of her path 
through the wood…
no trace of her footsteps
on moss deeper than memory

~cattails 3: Sept. 2014

Friday, October 17, 2014


only bones
under the turned earth
of Bloody Kansas—
those passenger pigeons
the Choctaw called lost doves

~Atlas Poetica 18, July 15, 2014

mourning doves
drawn to a decoy—
our fascination
with the whirligig wings
of war

Friday, October 10, 2014


long ago
I scaled a boulder 
the glacier left behind – 
my knee still bleeds 
against the granite edge of time 

~Ribbons 10:2, spring/summer 2014 

a stone woman
gives birth to a child
in the night
my book falls open
to the words, I need . . .

(The quotation in the second tanka is from Mountains and Rivers Sutra by Japanese Soto Zen Master Dogen Kigen, 1200–1253)

Saturday, October 4, 2014


summer savory
for thyme
I concoct a recipe
for the autumn of my life

~Moonbathing 9, Fall/Winter 2013-14