floating and leaving no trace
in the dream there is a group
of boys playing freeze tag on
a lawn that gets mowed every
weekend and the streetlights
have come on, their glow yellow
and menacing on a summer night
a spaceship in purple and green
cuts through the nascent darkness
and no one notices as everyone is
grozen on the lawn wsiting to be
freed by the remaining hidden player
why not jump in
with both feet
and eyes closed
you’ll never find out
how deep the mystery
goes
unless you are willing
to sacrifice
your safety
you open your eyes
and i slide into being
turn away it’s as if
i’ve never been born
only a smudge, merely
a blurred image
parsed through a mirror
or a reflection in a pond
the sky is blue
but it’s not the same blue
and the clouds are high
but not as high
or as white
and the air is cold
but not as thin or dry
and sits heavy in the lungs
already
the day is filled
with going and doing
and not enough being
one walk
one attempt to sustain
has us finding a lizard
carelessly killed
and grieved only by
the mourning of doves
the buzzing of insects
and the two of us
placing him in the shade
so that he won’t be hit again
i wonder how different here
can be from there
where signs warn
not to step on cryptobiotic soil
and here the lizard
with his beautiful blue stomach
couldn’t move fast enough
in a world moving much too fast
down through a blanket of clouds
ears popping
and the pressure between the eyes
reminding me
that i am home
Friday Haiku
to the hiker who
left trash floating in the stream–
dude, seriously?
the climb is vertical at points
an unforgiving drop to the left
the swithbacks make this a hike
rather than a climb
but my shoes are not made for this
slipping on dirt-caked stones
sliding over loose stones
and my clothes are not made for this
jeans heavy and hot and tight
and not good for the long strides
that i have to make
and i am not made for this
old and out of shape
dripping with sweat
panting in this elevation
legs shaking with the effort
all these flights of stairs
made of oxidizing sandstone
the lizards scuttle out of my way
it isn’t hard to imagine a grasshopper
flying at my face
catching me off balance
and sending me over the edge
this doesnt happen
the summit is flat and covered in scrub
junipers and pine dead and thriving
and agave dying and sending
it blossoms to the sun
is this it? i think
until i break through the heavier growth
and reach the rim
my last breath
as my old self
the self that started
up the mountain trail
his last breath powers a laugh
and i have to learn
how to breathe
with my new lungs
this new air
a jay grabs the grasshopper
out of the air
and flies into the twisted limbs
of thr juniper
later i see a family across
a dry gulch
and wonder which are the parents
and which the overgown
nestling
still trying to get food
out of its parents
i imagine that basin filled
with water during the monsoons
the tree covered in swirling waters
battered by stones
where will birds be?
are they social like crows?
will they huddle together
even though the fledgling
will have long since
struck out
on its own?
the red slabs rise in horizontal rows
shaped by hands by nature by the upward
struggling of the earth
small windows that were once doors
storage for corn
too small to take to market
and on the wall
a flute player
playing for no one
once the sun sets
the trail is easy
it says so on the map
level
flat
easy to traverse
making my way through
the overhanging trees
past the dead wood
storm or man felled
and overtaken as often
as i overtake children
families dogs the elderly
the ground is at times
hard, broken sandstone
or soft, powdered earth
when i come to a clearing
where the ground flattens out
a smooth place near a creek
once a mighty river
that carved out this channel
and wore down the red earth
i look into the distance
and see the cliffs rising
red columns and tall and proud
as any european cathedral
thats what they call it
cathedral rock
to get a better view
i must cross the creek
removing my socks and shoes
like i’m about to enter a holy place
and wade through icey water
up to my knees
the current almost catches me
but i stay upright
and make my way through the dense
growth again
spilling out onto a plain
and were the sun agreeable
i could say that i am in its shadow
on my return journey
i encounter no one
and have no words to speak
to them anyway
the earth is red
and i think
this is the blood of the earth
rising to the surface
not an omen or warning
not becuase she is wounded
but because that is what
you need for true communion
i think of those years wasted
eating crackers and drinking grape juice
when the asnwer was under my feet
and i want to bury my heart in her
Words and Feathers 