•October 20, 2015 • Leave a Comment

It’s the downward curve in the yellow road.

It’s the drop of a coin into an open hand.

It’s the last pour of Chardonnay before the first Zinfandel comes in.

It’s the sweep of gold mixing with the migration of Monarchs.

It’s the bronze thread in Lucifer’s raiment.

It’s friends flying to warmer places

It’s the plunk of a pumpkin into a child’s wagon.

It’s a corn snake burrowing under a crimson blanket.

It’s the Gala apple grazing Eve’s palm.

It’s wet retrievers jumping into streams to fetch russet branches.

It’s the whole town of Ward burning Aspens down.

It’s witches teeth snapping in a trick or treaters bag.

It’s the last sunflower.

It’s the goodbye wave of grasses in open fields.

It’s the gusts of Don Juan rendering autumn dresses into cascading showers.

Its the trumpet of crickets and frogs chorusing farewells before they hide underneath coats of winter.

Alaska and Reunion camera 348


•October 20, 2015 • Leave a Comment



There is a chill in the air
an almost imperceptible drop

A leaf starts to shiver
And another
And another.

One leaf turns yellow
amidst a rich backdrop of green.

Flutters to be seen
And another
And another.

Colors start rioting for attention:
reds and browns and oranges.

One falls to earth
And another
And another.

A naked tree stands
above a carpet of gold.

Reaches upward
And another
And another.

Imaginary Wolves

•May 18, 2015 • Leave a Comment


Love is not quiet. It breathes, has a heartbeat.
It pants and it howls.

I know one thing. When you left
our house caved in on me,

a collapse that was less dramatic than it sounds.
The roof did not squash my flesh to the floor.

The house slowly eroded me away
only by its silence.

Since you have left, I search for safety
by checking locks on doors and locks on windows

but wind up outside because the house is so lonely.
Outdoors I hear the wind

discuss current events with leaves and coyotes.
They don’t seem to mind my eavesdropping.

I hate the quiet zone you will not enter
more than I hate imaginary wolves.

Come on home and make some noise
from sticks and stones and the architecture of our lives.

Blister Package

•May 17, 2015 • Leave a Comment


The foil capsules big pharma makes
to hide migraine headache medicine.

What an awful name, how about
foiled chambers, Foiled again fool.

Try opening one with your temple
throbing, your fingernails bitten short,

Your hands shaky, your back killing you.
The price we pay for the miracle of life.

Our bodies house and move about
Until they stop, hurt cry and bleed.

If a child sees magic foil it is expected
He/she will be confused, unable to tear

It open. Sadly, childproofing
Works best on adults. Most kids

love puzzles, like to use their mouths
can grasp better that swollen older heads.

Best to hide the packet entirely, while
it is guaranteed you will forget, bellyaching

where you put it. More steps, more popping,
searching with watery eyes. Who’s griping?

I loved to run, learned how to tape
blisters, how to manage a headache

I lived life, learned how the mind works
Damned if I know why mine aches.

In the beginning headache medicine
had to be injected in the leg. Before

that there wasn’t any that really worked,
Some people swear by pressure points.

Or needles, neither which grab me. Life
is mindful clarity, not body lancing.

Or finding happiness amidst the confusion.
I will edit tomorrow lest you get a headache.

The song of the fly

•May 17, 2015 • Leave a Comment

The music begins in the wings,
an annoying buzzing

that has us chasing
all over the house

following the whizzing arcs
then silence as she alights.

Flies sing too,
deserve to exist.

maybe not in the house,
but somewhere outdoors

as she darts
with skill as two winged

creatures do with ease,
lead a simple life,

tastes with feet, scavenges food,
encroaches on space.

How will the drama end?
Will the dog catch her in his mouth?

Will the human zip and bang
his way to a squashed mess

on the giant flat screen
window or sliding door?

Will she sing her way to safety
by a mountain stream?

Who is the invasive species
on this earth?

Cayucas and Misc 010


•February 12, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Cayucas and Misc 367

How healthy would
our earth be today if
humankind was just
another kind of monkey?

The grass and the crickets
may again re-inherit
the earth without ruining it.
Either way:

the planet will keep
turning on its axis
and the wind may still
inspire the raven to fly.

Could the yellow
Aspen foretell that
the evergreen Lodgepole
would burn scarlet by fall?

The climate warms,
The ice caps shrink,
greenhouse gasses multiply
and our atmosphere is thin.

What some men have
stolen during this last
mechanized century
cannot be given back.

Our species continues
to gamble with our world
when hell is the debt
and Lucifer takes no gold.

Ravens know an unkindness,
black wings on asphalt
mourning one of their own,
dead. Silence echoes louder

that a million cries.
This death witnessed
by those naturally dressed
in black. If war is war,
ravens know both sides
lose, memorizing each
human face. Eerily
they look alike to us

except for a rarity with silver
epaulets. Taking time to pause
before disbanding, a solid cloud
of black flies above looming cars.

Traffic can prove useful
as ravens sometimes drop
walnuts to crack underneath
approaching tires.

This time a fire went out:
If war is war, both sides
lose. Some humans dislike ravens
because their keen intelligence,

too much like ours, makes
them formidable opponents.
One can steal a fisherman’s line,
if he leaves and returns,

outsmarted by a bird soaring
at play with fish in beak. They
work with their surroundings,
adapting to changes of mankind.

No devils, no carriers of doom,
they are birds, nothing
more, certainly nothing less.
They do not alter our earth.

Our species continues
to gamble with our world
when hell is the debt
and Lucifer takes no gold.

Hummingbird Moth

•February 12, 2015 • Leave a Comment

The Hummingbird moth
Flies around in the daytime
defying two rules at once

The crow mates with the Jay,
producing the Blackbilled Magpie
who fluffs up to be a raven.

Birds can hiss
like a Medusa,
head of snakes which chill

in a faint hearted swoop
even the red tail flies
the coop a chicken

cicadas sing
like rattlesnakes
confuse frogs and crickets

Things are not what they seem.
Whisper betrayal
Beethoven Mockingbirds

can mimic anything at all.
Trickster almost human.
Voices  amazing to hear,

one forgets the feather costume,
blends in like butterfly to leaf
fluttering camouflage eyes.

Owl eyes light dangerous
at night stopping senseless mice
cars bright flash shine to blind

runners mimicking cottontails, deer.
Be kind to those who struggle without wings
devoid of flying creature magic.