#525. kokoru

January 5, 2012

imagine on mud made beach
voices of human birds
devolution body songs
ash returning to life oceans
pearl shell and shimmer
fish fighting with wind
cast about for tenderness

#459. yahrzeit again

February 15, 2011

the sea remembers tomorrow
as if it were just yesterday
sleep is on its way dreams
of waking to gentle eyes
closing upon open earth
stone that finds ashes
to ashes lost breath
mother to blossom 
growing me living
tree remembers
an ocean today
not forgetting
your death
or its life
grown

been a rough saturday for folks
enjoying a day in the city
tempers flare as the train rolls
cool as tickets are punched
good young conductor knows
his stuff woodside next gets us
all under way to queens
jamaica night air puff
and a change sitting
higher now as the points
sound under the car lulls
most to sleep i pop a redstripe
tallboy on the way to babylon
marley comes on pandora barely
random as the dreamers trainsong
dreams roll parallel tracks over
diagonal streets as the sea scent
of bayshore gusts in the open
door old villages ensphered
by decaying suburbia blending
past sayville patchogue on
to something approaching the wild
groans of the uneasy dozer
behind me where imagination
allows a view my window
cant reflect on tomorrows rest
a piano melodically crashing
thru the pine barrens out
beyond mastic beach station
i hear the girls harmonizing
waiting for me to arrive in a few
guess the doze got me too
no matter because the quiet
comes on rolling beautiful past
invisible as i finish my beer
with a gentle rustle of paper bag
speonk is shed with fragrant air
filling the remaining travelers who
eye the promising deep and dark
excitement blowing thru west hampton
the hampton bays next to build up
my happiness for south hampton
and the warm north sea house
and everyone that means
the train can finish its route
without me

confused
by the new lush
growth
in the old wild
places

the reeds are very tall
and they almost hide the sea

aromatic
herbs from your small
gardens
comfort the weary
dreamer

the words dont come quickly
and in your home they dont need to

desire is always coming
commingling with the sea
in us all
the frothing waves
that sweep
us further into the future
than our past limits our desire
is always coming

spin
through
fragrant wind
stoking your fire
with the driftwood
unburied from the sand
the ocean pounds our desire
for each other in light from high
dream to the intimate colors of delight

#264. drill baby kill

May 16, 2010

drill baby drill
kill baby kill

if time flowed backwards
then maybe you would see
how like the ocean
all life is to be
if time stayed still
then i think you would see
how saving the gulf
would bring life to thee
but time seems to flow forward
and it doesnt matter what you see
we kill our selves
when we kill the sea

drill baby drill
kill baby kill

#263. Cali

May 15, 2010

the golden one
invited us into her
special cool hole
dug for all with love
in the Endless sand.
we will find her there
whenever we need her
looking out for us.

where now the driftwood
tossed on the beach.

surface
tension punctured
drops ripples and gone
time uncounted
music ensphered
water engaged
by pebble rock
and stone

turn your face
up towards the clouds
feel the new rain
ancient oceans
refreshed

#219. spring brings

April 1, 2010

spring brings

me to the river

just like the tide brings

the drifting

castoffs

or

winter breakages

valued once

as something

useful

now it rots

unless a poem saves it

or

the drifter

reclaims it

for her dinner

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