Saturday, December 31, 2016

what i am doing
forging dreams
encouraging flights of fancy

anything can be
that can be


Thursday, December 29, 2016

                           for evan and fonta

visiting from out of town

at my friend's house
we sing the "throwing things out
the second story" song
as we toss the christmas tree
out the open picture window

then we clean up all the dry
pine needles

something of a family

the twins are 4 and his daughter is 7
smart happy kids
who remember my
improvised ad hoc yoga moves

do the abe lincoln memorial pose!
do the eiffel tower!
do the thinker!

i sing for them 'bat in my face'
and make paper boats
read them picture books
play the piano

i remember how it was
when my kids were small
a forever forever forever
contained cosy and small

it was obvious
we'd always have the books we read
as nearby as each other

how could anyone
be gone for long at all


Late December
Clayton Street
San Francisco

Sunday, December 25, 2016

not knowing every little thing
makes each moment what it is

beautiful awesome confusing
elated heart breaking funny

we know some of the shapes
some of the shapes

ultimately what they do or act
is how you'd like them to be


Christmas Day

Saturday, December 24, 2016

on christmas night
i watch my dad wash the dishes
he takes his time

cold for napa
below 38 the lights of the valley

the rug is squared
extra leaf added to the table
i did homework on

it comes to me
in this warm bright room

we don't know
where we are going but
you do know who you love


Friday, December 23, 2016

there's nothing to it more
and nothing's known for sure

other than two
on a plane to sacramento

watching a video on a phone
holding hands


Wednesday, December 21, 2016

in the midwest
i give a shell with my christmas cards
to new coworkers and new friends

keepsakes from my favorite beach in Huntington
southern california
where the waves are always warm

it occurs to me how much i miss
seeing that beach like i did everyday
picking up shells at dawn

but how wonderful it is
to have so many new friends
i can give a Christmas shell too


Tuesday, December 20, 2016

a dream my whole life
was floating on a pool of water

each part like a small bit
of leaf or wood assembled artfully

other peoples lives and mine
mingled on gently bobbing waves

the water itself was clear
and had no bottom


Monday, December 19, 2016

i dream about the car
all night long

about the heater core
if it is leaking

if the head gasket
has a crack

i really know
so little

still i dream
of answers

beyond my expertise
shiny cars


Sunday, December 18, 2016

i keep digging through lines here
as if i will find you

but you are gone and it has been
a long time

the fond time i wish to recreate
is not the time it was

and you in real life barely remember
this person fair

because there have been so many
more clever and appealing

but with some once loved loved true
love goes on

even though the beloved is so worldly
even cares not


you understand
when they talk about
turning over your body
for fame comfort or glory

some who believe or say
they have not done any trade
quid pro quo for this or that
allowing to be handled

those are the corrupt
the ones that have given
but say they did not
they prey on the innocent

what may separate one
is not to revel in degradation
to say trades like this are good
or we want anything like it

as for redemption
no one knows possibly
or in action the right conviction

if you can
give refuge
and ask for nothing


no drama other than me
saying i found the moon
in a matchbox and then lost it
and i cried


sinking or rising up
stone Buddhas in the grass

bobbing like rafts
in this sea of imaginings

i could be moved
be blissful or bemused

however i see it
i see you too

looking at the Bodhisattvas
surrounded by the grass


for Walter
be inescapably beautiful
by loving yourself completely
by loving yourself competently
by doting on you most first

paradoxically you'll find
this wise selfishness
if you follow through
more love for all

your beauty will refine
your beauty will be bright
those around you too
become beautiful like you


Bass Lake

i choose to see you
in a certain way
that renders me blind

thinking this scene
person or face for you
complements best

but it is a cover
or a binding i foist
defacing your essence

me lacking the courage
or having such ruinous vanity

embellishing what should be respected
or tampering with innocent and fine


i know people
i cannot see
because i insist
on i i i


Friday, December 16, 2016

someone far away
like a cinematic trick
they're right sized then
one day for some reason
you only see their image

day after day an icon
getting smaller and smaller
as it shrinks it gets brighter
finer in detail and then
blurrier and blurrier

someone far away
sighing and hoping
winning or losing
going on with each day
alone or with others
for some reason not here


Sunday, December 11, 2016

snow snow
falling snow

covering gently
everything below

sleeping fields
woods and lake

any tracks
you will make

all under this
blanket of white


December 2016
Bass Lake

Tuesday, December 06, 2016

they may write a thousand things
but do not know the words
or stop to feel anything

would someone be brave enough
to turn a verse they wrote themselves
or be any kind of a man

i'd say chivalry here is lacking
but not every one is dull some do know
a modestly without all the act

even make a verse or two
show in lines some convincing
of the appreciation of you

how you stir a contemplation
of mystery and of sweetness where
even the impossible can come true

but the lines now are many
mystery or sentiment wear out
with such dwelling

last verses done with some regret
for lack of skill or time or bravery
if only a poet could be as true as cupid

our nights are unequal
like many i have darker ones

some sleep lightly
with any stirring or
horror or regret
of what they did

they might be
empty or have
no mind

nothing is awaiting them
as the road narrows
at appointed time

our nights are unequal
we are who we are and become

i resist taking
the midnight vote

counting the
as it goes
green yellow red
over and over

i sleep
and dream
of a private room

a pale bowl
and a yellow spoon


Sunday, December 04, 2016


                   snowflake                                                snowflake

              snowflake                                                       snowflake                                  snowflake

          snowflake                                           magic snow flake

             snowflake                             snowflake                                               snowflake

                                   snowflake                                                               snowflake              

                           snowflake                               snowflake                                   snowflake        



to support the assertion
you can catch the magic snowflake
on the tip of your nose
if you practice

or snow falling perfectly
all night as you dream

the heated sideboards
tapping and pinging

waking up you may think
what beautiful flakes

how does this go
such perfectly falling snow

each signifying a world
a person a place or a dream

or signifying nothing
unspoken simple

absolute serene


form an alliance with your self
by being tolerant internally

extend the courtesy
you automatically consider
towards others

towards you

you'll find
more beauty inside and
outside this way

the world more like home
a warm place you can live in


Saturday, December 03, 2016

i entered knowing
now i am not knowing

i came in clear
now i may not be seeing

i can reset my surrealism
as easily as i can wallpaper a room

i aim to ensnare
some force
inscrutable truth

i was a gopher on a bike
but now i am a valiant widow

my son is my consciousness
killed on a crusade

now the crusade is a lit window
and cycle is a moth in sky

open to suggestions
any proposition
is beloved

will blow me to salvation

yet how much real irony
or tragedy
contained in a play

i act in and direct

i came in with paper
i do not know where it has gone

it may be this paper
i write on now

i'm waiting for beautiful poetry
to come into the room

but i have too much
erasmus and kant in my head

my supposed humble being
is so loud in knowingly unknowing

poetry walks by and sights
she goes to another cafe

my forced gentleness
i have become a brute

wallpapering and
widowing myself

but i will never give up

the idea of somehow

despite all of this

no one is separated
from grace


home is a place
where you work on you vices

home is a place
where you burnish your virtue

home is
a place for the heart
                  the mind
                  the mind
                  the mind

home is unforgotten

home is love

home is trust

where you can be naked
and cook or watch TV

where you can be unclothed
and natural

with a lover

is a happy forever

is balanced

home is
a place for the heart
                  the mind
                  the soul
                  the self

                  the now
                  the later
                  the best

                  a sigh
                  a hug

Thursday, December 01, 2016

you begin gently moving
through shapely & self curated scenes
full of luxury and sometimes terror
all the mechanisms of sleep

blind force of a lucid dreamer
who says these grand things that ebb and flow
are true with no more permanence of a fog
money and fortunes blisses and curses

beautiful wayward dreamer
who can wake as soon as they wish
into clarity and clear light never sullied
the brightest of all bright selves

like a perfect high star
that never sets over an ocean
full of tossing sleepers and seekers
rafts of their own making through nights

you with a host of other angels
saying awake! urging dreamers
in imagined darkness to shake off
our peculiar toilsome sleep

wondering about home
between flakes of snow

or will these fields tell
hush hush is that a sign

or a bell from a church
open tonight late

i see the light in you
then follow it wondering

all transitory here
like other time zones

other cities and fields
full of signs and people

other church bells dusk
wondering about home

hush hush is that a sign
or a bell