May 2014

new moon . . .
the void in me
yields to it

early bird . . .
the whole universe twists
in a wormhole

black hole
not seen by
two

the ancients
so still the shadows
between stars

a stone
utterly white
bares its name

wordless now!
my child's fingers
flicking light

leaf light
trees seen only
as they are

storm front
light drumrolls
its absence

first frost
the blackbird too sings
of some other light

window frost
misshapen trees melt
before me

beyond here
a keening wind
and the stars

red shift —
this lip service
of words

eventide —
a sparrow alights
a still point

fantail song . . .
still the fetal echoes
of a fatal quest

end of leaves . . .
some ancient god turns
on my eyes

space
just as if
it is

harvest's end
the withered stalks
of wild oats

star crossed night —
open hands bloom with
open wounds

bread broken
hearts unhinged
bake within