In between the notes

Beautifully flawed
the crack in the sun
an offering from
the anarchy of order
the form of chaos
in interbeing
and then Pran Nath says,
“nobody’s house,
walls have a stuck feeling,
open place have a
how much can fly ideas”
“like you are breathing,
the body is a note
you suppose,
and breath is a raga, moving,
and every breath has a different feeling”


Broken Things


All the little broken things
that hover between you and now
Sparrow and spent monarch’s pennon
fallen leaf and falling rain
Passed by for a glimpse of horizon
unnoticed in plain sight
yet sticking with a rough burr
clung to the edge of spirit’s body
Fast in silence
Taken as passenger, then as part
as weighty prop, as scenery, as scene
Seed of a new world
as significant as dust

Consumer Reports

the heart bleats like a lamb
calling future
the conscience of prey
knowing that each moment
is borrowed from the next
creating a vacuum
that is mistaken for motion
in one direction
while veritably
matters are coming apart
and falling together
at the same time
and predator is puppet
to the very same
pulled along mirrored lines
of presence and absence
and mover is moved
in stillness to stasis
without hunger


What is the name

of that flower?

It is easier to deny things

that you do not have

a framework of knowledge

or experience

that helps enable understanding

those things

than it is to learn

or examine

what of the deluge

is drinkable?


“Indian” Summer

a turn in the ellipse
set egrets to flight
summer birds retreat
and acorns hail
in a torrent of continuance
around the bend once more
air starts to crisp
there is so much more to ripen
than last year
yet less than ever