The River Was No More

It was a day like no other
day in the long string
of countless days
that faded all the way back
in my memory
until there was nothing
but jumbled glimpses
of reconstructed minutes
when everything was new
and now all that gone
yet the future was here
unpredictable pieces
constructed
inside my head
but to cross the river
just once
into the future I walked
to the other side
where it was all so familiar
to my surprise
then I turned around
and the river was
no more.

Chet's Porch

I think 
it was a
break of drawn
moment
when in the distance
I heard voices
of every kind
speaking of wonder
and reality
all matter in between
some words 
crystal clear
while others 
wrapped in mystery
before I knew it
darkness approached 
but I returned
the next day
and approached
the porch again
this time a chair was bare
and no one seemed to care
when I sat
and made myself
at home
and daily I returned
others came and went
yet no matter
how early I arrived
I could never catch a glimpse
of the owner of the porch
but always there
his words
as though they were 
the nails 
the sawn and planed timber planks 
that is what
we call 
the porch.

Suddenly Brave

Before the storm
lightning and thunder
rain that stung
my face
we laughed before
the gathering dark clouds
on the narrow trail
faster our pace
down and around
the tall redwoods
and boulders 
we scampered over 
as the first drops
urged us on
when suddenly the dark
of the forest 
awoke our primal instincts
to blinding light
then a boom that
sent us running
across the high meadow
no time to dwell
upon alpine beauty
poured the rain 
but now safe 
inside the Volkswagen
we burst into laughter
soaked and cold
yet now
all of a sudden
brave.

God = x

I blink
in the dark
overhead
bejeweled sky
I tease the universe
and find
potential came first
and all that matters
then came forth
to be
you and I
to wonder
why.

Like TIme

To the seashore
again
this time the lapping surf
catches me with ease
no longer can I taunt
the sea
outrun its endless dare
like time it is
always there
for me to measure
and be aware
just how much longer
I need
to care.

The Blue Jay Feather

The blue jay feather
was the bookmark
about the halfway point
in Moby Dick
and the Volkswagen van
pulled into the camp space
surrounded by redwood trees
a stream nearby
provided the music
and she began
preparing lunch
and he began exploring
the campsite as only
five-year-old boys do
and I retreated
to camp table and bench
and opened to
the blue jay feather
and all about us
the sunlight streamed
in long shafts
down from the tall trees
confirming to me
this was the spot
to be
for we three
and nothing else
counted.

Old Men with White Hair

Old men with white hair
blown in the wind
when each step
is considered
with care
and no more
thoughtlessly
moving about
with matters
in their head
of consequence
to none
now all those thoughts
faded and threadbare
awaiting a pause
a chair
then time to dwell
on memories
of thoughts
of consequence
to none.

Painting and Printing

A matter
of an 'a'
for an 'r'
and the difference?
Printing
when we paint words
not for eyes alone
but for minds
to translate
into invisible images
inside darken skulls
where eyes
think they see.