5.30.17 – 23.18

pearl-white moonlight
and gray clouds
shine still in the reflection
of an owl’s eyes
inflicting drowsy
heavy-lidded children
with nervous dreams
and pierce the night
with an eerie quiet calm


2.25.11 – 2.45

have faith in the waves of amazement
that spring will bring forth to our spirits
the windows to our destinations do not
present themselves so clearly
to their seekers nor in circles or contexts
of simple reading and writing


1.24.11 – 13.24

the invisibility of truths
that lay hidden in the tresses
of a woman’s skirt

is more delicate
than the perfect grace
of a dewdrop

trickled from the face of a single leaf
and lands, poised
from the crumpled beam of a broken twig


12.24.10 – 1.07

in a broken barn,
statues of doves litter beams
and splintered floorboards,

but one sparrow, wise,
lights upon a waterfall
and does not falter.

hills like overturned
bowls crowd the distant landscape,
bare and abandoned.

cold, unending; a
symbol of winter passing
sits in the budding of trees.


8.09.10 – 21.14

snow fell into the shadows
of a gargoyle’s wing
as sunlight reflected off its eyes
and tried to weave golden threads
into the shells of sleeping snails


6.27.10 – 23.21

we sign off on our daily lives
without search
for the deeper beauties of existence

yet they chime for us
with such pronounced clarity
the voices of sublimity are as thin
as paper whispers

.the.sunday.160 (without spaces)

6.26.10 – 13.26

doves seek shelter in the backs of caves
and linger for the mysteries that
only the Vesper
whispers into the midnight air

to be unveiled so simply
by a single hare traveling
by fog that blankets the undergrowth
like clothes at dusk

are songs that enchant like lead
links around iron hearts
and secrets that unravel themselves
like gauze over pine