I am learning to
listen. to sounds which I have
always heard. to know
things I have always known. the
robin sings and God still speaks.
soft orange hum, sun-
shine dusting the tops of the
trees. children play and
cry. i often look up to
the sky, surprised: what beauty!
tense as piano
wire i am the humid air
thunder shook the vault
rain like hot tears cascading
from the cloudy eyes of god
driving into the
white cotton candy sky, up
the old highway in
the hot sun, whose face has been
hidden behind clouds too long!
past midnight, two half-
naked shadows move in front
of headlights, haloed.
they tow my car out the mud.
the day slid by, like
granite on the ice. dreamlike.
walk out the freezer,
and your glasses fog up.
i truly do love this land.
early morning fog
swallows the king's crown.
fat raindrops smack onto pavement
mercurial september slips through my
fingers, quicksilver.
what do i miss:
it, or the idea of it?
I saw a man
buried with a birch bark quiver.
His head rested on his shoulder,
arms by his sides,
and though his eyes were clogged with dirt
and his teeth all bared as though grinning wide,
I see him,
here, in myself,
when I lay my head on my shoulder,
falling asleep.