someone who loved you once

the traveled truth in back-to-fronts
like some someone who loved you once
is carved in clay and silica
a limestone twist basilica

your memories, a passing phase
of donut holes, and marble glaze,
and fissures near a mountain cleft,
someone who loved you once
then left

The Vision Grand

A single cycle of seasons.

The Vision Grand

The pattern floating cloudlike on moments of sharp focus
For ever permeating dreamily throughout moods and climates
With every port or pier abandoned still distant vistas ever-viewing
As hope ignores the pattern in its desperate whirlings

So Spring brings its illusions, Summer its sultry pleasures momentary,
Autumn its chill foreshadowing, and Winter its destruction of all before it
It is appointed unto All one single cycle of seasons
Indifferent, inexorable, in progress even now speaking

The dream gives power to longing, longing to the dream
As human blood begins its journey anew, lovers joining constant
Into birth, into false hope, into future joinings, blind and striving
For this world presents no dilemmas except to those
Crazed by hope

much the green i broken lay…

much the green i broken lay,
far beyond displeasure –
countertops and cherry-limes,
towers full of treasure —

much the season comes around,
songs and gales of laughter –
much the green i broken lay,
cleaning up
the after

murray river basin

the earth is thirsty

the earth is thirsty so am i
out past where we all come to die
alone and without celebrant
a wastrel bard irrelevant
the half-cocked eye the shaking lip
fair captain of a foundered ship
the desert plain of fated need
to thirst to ache
to drop

to bleed


arylide yellow.

chemical imbalance brushing
nails done in arylide

yellow on the margins of the
fringe of the outside

wrapped around a coffee cup of
fiji kava kava —

poured into a throat converting
water into lava

steam approaching maximum and
streaming ever higher

yellow on the margins of the
fringe of desire

When This Was My Whole Today

Back when this was my whole today
With stickers stuck to socks and jeans
The kids would come from blocks away
To storm the place like field Marines

To slide, to rise, to turn, to spin;
To take our turns – or maybe not –
The whole today we’d gather in
The sky the cold the wet the hot

And it’s not that it rusts away
Or that it seems so very small
But whole today’s so yesterday
It matters hardly much at all

And fifty years from now, who’ll stand
Re-living when they were a boy
And look at signs I was once was there
And recall me
With any