at the water’s edge

the trees were silent and still
as i descended to the stream
coursing gently over polished stones
stepping down towards the foot
of the ancient mountain

i knew i had to be here—
it was where i always found peace
whenever the world shook
my faith and discarded hope
for the sake of angry profit

i was alone, but not so
for she was always within me
her voice echoing in my thoughts
her laughter tempting my spirit
to frollick once more in the glen

but now in the warm sunlight
straining down through branches
bowed beneath times birthing
years and tearful only for the want
of most beautiful beloved she

i crouched at the water’s edge
and playful submerged my hand
beneath the surface, my skin
drawing in the immediate warmth,
invigorated by its sweet clarity

i sat for a time, imagining her
as eager and elevated i might strain
to calmly remove her clothing
piece by careful piece, the scent
of her arousing my blushing flesh

in my thoughts she lay beside me
her breath beckoning my lips
to brush hers as my hands explored
her skin, glorying in the enticing
contours of her exquisite beauty

urged on, i would trace my tongue
down around her breasts,
teasing them, pleasing as well as
i may my lover’s grateful need
while breeding hope once more

until at last resting between her legs
i might taste the very core of her,
as heart and soul and flesh fell together
unfettered and fully formed, adoring
each moment when love could cry

yes and yes, in honest tones

salt lake city 14 may 2022



I mind an avenue of trees
rising deftly beyond the sun
and the sense that today
is tomorrow, and tomorrow
has quite capriciously gone.

I remember the leaves
tickling briskly the tips
of my calloused fingers
and how I marveled enviously
at their ever changing colors.

Intently I stared at the blue
of the sky overhead,
distinguishing at last that
precious moment when clouds
turn colder than snow.

But what mattered most of all
as the fallen leaves settled
beneath my feet and found peace
was the recognition that green
is still green and always will be.

Except when it is blue.

My Wee Sprite

my wee sprite speaks to the trees
and dances their sylvan singing
bringing vibrant hope to my soul,
bark growing stronger at her touch
roots stretching deeper and deeper
below her feet

my wee sprite chases away spectres
securing trust and eternal song
that pardons even the most egregious
envies that have broken bound me
to pursue such petty pleasures
in this life

my wee sprite promises me a day
when the Shellycoat herself bows
and allows me to ascend and ride
the very seas from shore to shore
only to see my wee sprite smile
once more


mystery evokes the patterns of trees
enchanting the sun with their prayer
reverent and keen these spires of green
deeply enthroned with such rooted care

grasping at soil and stones and time
while dreaming of heaven’s high vault
verdantly dancing on breezes and vines
through canopies lustrously wrought

tenderly touching her fingers exploring
gently caressing their too worried flesh
the earth heaves sighs like leaves adoring
in voices redeeming this world to be blessed

Salinas 20 Dec 2012



reeds bow in the breeze
bending ever obedient
yet wistfully weaving
dreams of massive roots
and encompassing bark
and branches scratching
at the very sky above


as they pliant genuflect so
oh why, they seem to lament
to a cypress copse nearby
why not we drawn to the sea
when shall we too grow tall
as you and firm and standing
fast in rich and fertile soil?


the winds rise shunting aside
such feeble wishes as these
and the reeds ride restless
the swirling raging storm
feverish swaying yet unbroken
their hopes reside unspoken
while a mighty cypress crashes




Salt Lake City 16 Oct 2012


the honey locust out front
one of only three brave trees
to survive the hatchet woman,

who claims to have loved me
once upon a jealous time,
is simply molting like mad

dropping little desiccated
clumps of yellow feathers
beneath its skeletal limbs

and you know, i like it this way
i have to say it feels somehow
quite appropriate considering

Salt Lake City 08 Oct 2012

[Lately I seem not to have found a voice for anything but darkness, and while I have written much, I have withheld it all, waiting for some sign of a revival in my spirits. I feel I should apologize for this verse and for the next several verses to follow. They strike me as obsessively morose, and worthy of deletion. But they were composed honestly, and in all honesty I confess to myself that we are as much the product of the darkness that dwells disconsolate within us as we are of the light.]

your lines

your lines contour the light
playing among the trees
shifting the leaves trembling

your lines shape the green
fleshing this fertile world
defining my pulsing passion

i wander your lines in awe
tracing them with my hands
my tongue teasing your warmth

how eagerly reddening your lips
answer this my nesting soul
needing ever your sweet song

your voice that calls my skin
climbing step by certain step
the joyful length of your lines

Santa Cruz 17 Aug 2012