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
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….
Where light mirrors through
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
Trees in their remembered shadows
October 4 19
Stars untether the boneless night….
There is a room where outside its smiling windows
The shackled skeletons break free….
We have borne winters soliloquy as beggars
In a field of blinded goats…
Wandering the burnt landscape among
The names of charred
She is spinning the wheels of rainfall
in a dress of fallen names….
Placing them in a leather glove….
For the next one to wear….
*mistah – Cheyenne word for ghost or great horned owl
From the stronghold
Soft rain embraces the flowers with its silence
Night rings its ancient bells after
The lightening strikes….
All around light that has hidden in clouds
Opens its eyes….
Looking for you….
For our mothers
12 May 19
Remembering the inward dreams that don’t go away
The small silences of early morning….
The wanderer in me now
Among the warrior uncles of my youth….
The porch light of those summers in Oklahoma bathed in circling moths
Shimmering as heat over the wheat fields…
Shimmering in hard life and peyote moons….
A grey heron….
Standing on one leg
In the still spirited waters
Of twelve mile point…..
In the rain just now
The smallest stones on the shoreline light their lamps….
Every morning the same songs unsung
Hang from the trees where the owls sleep….
Soft songs melting through the leaves
The fragile leaves….
Hiding among the death masks
The still open hands….
Over which a song I have dreamt all my life
Diffused light…these hours before morning….
The silent room rings its loneliness ….
of a child’s toy bell….
Without you ….
Fingerprint on the balcony window
Your footsteps waiting in the hallway…
For dawn to bring me here…
The calumet poems
For my grandparents
Dawn disguised as sorrow
Stands before the wintered plain
A wolf track fills with snow….
Shaking its shimmering being
From the solitude of flight….
The badger watching….
Mahago domiutz ehiwoh
(Walking badger said this)
Waking to a yellow poisonous sky in Paris
A dark kitten purrs softly on my hotel window ledge….
I cross the early empty streets toward a taxi….
Heavy fog at gateway
Small rabbits running across the tarmac….
In the airport lounge in San Francisco hours later
Sipping an old crow and seven…..
Later in a rainstorm in a phone booth
I light a cigar….
Drifting toward a waking dream….
A white field of broken skulls in Yemen
The only darkness the holes….
Where their eyes were…
Lines from a revisited image