• Toadstools

    The toadstools are starting to come up circular and dry. Nothing will touch them, Gophers or chipmunks, wasps or swallows. They glow in the twilight like rooted will-o’-the-wisps. Nothing will touch them. As though little roundabouts from the bunched unb…

  • No one loves anyone else; he loves What he finds of himself in the other. Don't fret if others don't love you. They feel Who you are, and you're a stranger. Be who you are, even never loved. Secure in yourself, you will suffer Few sorrows. ~Fernando Pe…

  • Shaving

    I am not shaving. I'm writing about it. And I conjure the most elaborate idea - How my beard is a creation of silent labor like ocean steam rising to form clouds. Or the bloom of spider webs each morning; The discrete mystery of how whiskers grow, Like…


  • The Road

    Here is the road: the light comes and goes then returns again. Be gentle with your fellow travelers as they move through the world of stone and stars whirling with you yet every one alone. The road waits. Do not ask questions but when it invites you to da…

  • A salad! (Iceberg lettuce)

    All the food critics hate iceberg lettuce. you'd think romaine was descended from orpheus's laurel wreath, you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional benefits attributed to it by popeye, not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of verlaine and debu…

  • Disused Graveyard

    The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: "The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come t…


  • Rain

    After rain after many days without rain, it stays cool, private and cleansed, under the trees, and the dampness there, married now to gravity, falls branch to branch, leaf to leaf, down to the ground where it will disappear — but not, of course, vanish e…

  • Woods

    They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemone…

  • Mountain & I

    All the birds have flown up and gone; A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. We never tire of looking at each other - Only the mountain and I. Li Po


  • Without a wish, without a will, I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars and still I stared into the sky. ~Ralph Hodgson

  • Twilight

    Then it was dusk in Illinois, the small boy After an afternoon of carting dung Hung on the rail fence, a sapped thing Weary of crying. Dark was growing tall And he began to hear the pond frogs all Calling on his ear with what seemed their joy. Soon thei…

  • The Obsoletion of a language

    We knew it would happen, one of the laws. And that it would be this sudden. Words become a chewing action of the jaws and mouth, unheard by the only other citizen there was on earth ~ Kay Ryan


  • Dragon fly

    You are made of almost nothing But of enough To be great eyes And diaphanous double vans; To be ceaseless movement, Unending hunger Grappling love. Link between water and air Earth repels you. Light touches you only to shift into iridescence Upon your…

  • Meadow

    It is only a dream of the grass blowing east against the source of the sun in an hour before the sun's going down whose secret we see in a children's game of ring a round of roses told. Often I am permitted to return to a meadow as if it were a give…

  • Night Walk

    The all-night convenience store's empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, may be a copy of yesterday's newspaper -- fina…


  • The heron stands in water where the swamp Has deepened to the blackness of a pool, Or balances with one leg on a hump Or marsh grass heaped above a muskrat hole. He walks the shallow with an antic grace. The great feet break the ridges of the sand, The l…

  • Between the computer, a pencil, and a typewriter half my day passes. One day it will be half a century. I live in strange cities and sometimes talk with strangers about matters strange to me. I listen to music a lot: Bach, Mahler, Chopin, Shostakovich. I…

  • One more day gone Done, found in The form of days. It began, it Ended - was Forward, backward, Slow, fast, a Sun shone, clouds High in the air I was For a while with others, Then came down On the ground again No moon. A room in A hotel, - to begin ag…


107 items in total