Here

Here is a place where nothing can die
Darkness that lives beneath the leaves
We bring our nights there without knowing
We bring our fear there before the singing begins
We bring our silent names there hoping we are forgiven
We bring our hands there scented of a river
We bring our prayers that hide and watch us
The landscape where we have held the loose feathers
Of a fallen bird
And awakened in the land of the unseen
Here is a place where nothing can die….
Sunday24may20
Bologna

What has seen you

What has seen you
Saw you a long time ago
It comes back to watch you
Though sometimes you are missing
It waits with its one breath 
Listening to itself so it can remember
Often when it arrives it sounds
Like smoke
Or a burning leaf
Sometimes it sounds like its hand on your window glass
The eyes in its hand closed but for one eye
The one that remembers you….
Relative 
From the dead zone texts
In continuance
Wed20may20

Five Poems for Ritsos

I first read your words in an Oklahoma
rainstorm in 1968
Now I am here with
Drifting birds in sea wind
Water jars of clay

Cretan knives
Small poems on the handles
And a photograph
Women in black holding
Their diminished dreams
In their aprons

A mauve light upon your weathered face
In the prison where
Your bowl of watered grains
Rotted under the windowed moon

Your resistance an ochre
Color of grace
Rises again
In this troubled time

As a tolling bell
Bursting upon the eternal sea wind
My brother
Nothing can defeat the human heart…
14 july 2009
Island of Crete

At the well of solitude

At the well of solitude
Where the dead and the living link hands
At the side of an abandoned road

We see when the clouds open and the sun
shines through

They are smiling….

Whispering of windows shuttered
On an unknown plain….

The ones with ghosted eyes
stand

Within our dreamtime
to watch….

the bones melt on the window pane…



And the one song that has followed us
All this way…


Is playing….




Poem for not turning away
Bologna 14 apr 20

Troubador

Found a thousand butterflies in the icicles 

A single tear in the willowed rain
Found a veterans broken whistle in the worn pocket of a sad refrain
Moved us beyond ourselves to this clearing place 

Where moonlight in our souls remain

Prine…..
Sing to us justice 
Sing to us peace….
Sing to us again….

Bologna 9.april.20

In this brief rest

In this brief rest
An anointment of sunlight through leaves

In this late hour
Late for animals

Late for humans….

Wolves of memory 

In the half light of dawn….

Something has passed
      And will no longer follow us….

Though it’s sound will live with us forever….

Its same hawk
circling in its hymn of light….

The raven texts….a day poem
19march20

Sitting at dusk

Sitting at dusk by the stilled leaves….
                   A rivered sound in the passing clouds….

Slow now the arriving winds
                            That have known us….

                         Out of it stories of aged lights and movement
      Crescendoing now in the small breath beside me….

                         Its long journey made of sinew
                                                      Of cedar
                                                                       Smoke….

                                   Of life….

From the stronghold
10/March/20