Silver Falls
State Park, Oregon
We hear it first, the roar of it,
then a glimpse through stands
of cedar fronds and maple limbs
until we see in a clearing the surge
of water pounding down.
The trail winds behind the charge,
droplets of power plunge
He asked me once if I had touched a cloud and what it felt like
and I said soft and his father said cold. And he asked if it was like bed,
like lying down, and we tried to explain that a cloud is only a collection of
tiny particles, water held together by air, a thing that you can be in and pass through
and even touch, but that you cannot hold.
first place that understood me was Oz
land of misfits, land of ne’er do wells
away from a grey and white life
Oz knew how to fix my heart me
I will put on widows’ weeds.
Everyone will see my sorrow.
In shops, women
will purse up their smiles,
avert their eyes
from the cross-hatch
The Airedale woke us, crashing and howling
against the door. John and I watched a coyote leap the fence,
its gold melting into the dark wood
and our hen a limp ribbon in its teeth.
The dog tracked scattered chicks
Continue reading… "The Misnomer Renaissance Faire"Let’s knit a shawl so the women can spend a warm winter
let’s make it of basil and thyme for the pregnant mother
and of dried corn leaves for the country girl
let’s knit a shawl to cover her shoulders
let’s do it for all the women of this storm-colored sky
Sometimes the streets turn to memory
the cities imagine others
in that distance between words
between dream and reality
stories seeking refuge
It’s still mosquito summer in the High Sierra
when we push up above 10,000 feet,
only Annie and me and a dryad
we come across tied forever to her foxtail pine.
She’s been sitting up here
Continue reading… "Up Near Alta Peak, January 20, 2017"If I encounter knife-edged voices
I will remember cool water running
in a strong stream
I will let the water be my voice.
If I encounter cold indifference
Continue reading… "On Trump’s Election"Mounds of black scat on the trail.
Rotted hemlock clawed and scattered.
A branch snaps. Forest silence shattered
by rocks knocked loose cliff-side, hail
of scree. Even birds and blackflies freeze
