The future walks among us…

Where we fall in the dew of shadowless beings
Where we taste evil and blood and know our silence
Is its mother….

Where we lie down in fear of sleeping our eyes transfixed
On a wind of blowing dust and skin…..

The future walks among us….

Where we hear the muted prayers of a vanished child at
The gates that
open toward nothing….

Where we hold one another in the dying parts
Of ourselves…

Where we waken in dawns aflame
And feel the stick figures

On the ancient walls watching us….

The future walks among us….


In the rain just now

In the rain just now
Before dawn….

The smallest stones filled with moonlight
Dim their lamps….

Each morning
The same singing
Hangs from the trees where the owls sleep….

Soft songs melting through the leaves

The fragile leaves….

Hidden among the death masks….
The still open hands holding
A wind…

Over which a nightmare I have dreamt all my life

Is sounding….

The songs
Foggia italy



Where light has lain with the floating leaves
            These spirited ones sit in bundles of air….


Winds scented of the saliva of spirits…
For those resisting …

In the streets of la Paz…

   Deep mystery and strength in the
Veins of the Aymara….

                Warrior fires flickering in 
the mountains….

For Evo Morales 
Aymara leader

Aymara language

The first time I saw sunny

The first time I saw sunny

She was dancing in a Tijuana bar

To procol harums another shade of pale

The borders we crossed

Along the Mexican peninsula

Across the illegal plains

Saved me from my floundering self

Her beautiful smile as she danced ankle deep in the luminous

Ocean night….

Smuggling books into East Germany

Under the Berlin Wall

Later in a ghost filled room I made a prayer

For the lost….

And they went home

And the wall fell down….




An orphaned night rises over the saintly gardens of Bologna…
I am looking for you among these ruins that call themselves poems
Looking for you as if it the last thing to be done in this greying mist
Before dusk I have seen you moving as a thread of silk from a spiders 
Cloak I have seen you tasting water made of prayer and ash

And a little horse in your pocket
         Made of
      The solemn world drinking at the 
Wells of indifference….

     Names falling out of the autumn


For michael 

Between each spoken word

Between each spoken word….
A sacredness resounds
It’s quivering motion turning in a 

minuscule whirlwind

As the silence that glistens in a ravens eye….

Of what can never be spoken 
Watching in its spirit voice

Toward our yearning….

Our dreams

Slowing lives….

Bologna italy

When light mirrors through

Where light mirrors through
Shattering glass….
Breath falls out of a crescendoing wind
Breath looking for its life

Bells of paper prayers burning where once
the sentinels stood

Trees calling to one 

another before 
they fall
Trees in their remembered shadows

Going away….

Amazonia rhapsody 
Bologna Italy
October 4 19

Soft words that have never spoken

Soft words that have never spoken
Inside the abandoned tennis shoe
Of a child….
On a Texas riverbank….

still warm imprint of Hotneh 
Steam rising
from its track
Howling across
The miraging rain….

torn white cloth of skin and fear
as a grey moth escaped from a torn nightmare

On concertina wire shining under a full moon….

We must begin the war drums

The dog soldier texts
Marina de Lesina 
August 13.19

Hotneh (wolf)