break of dawn
the cat
jumps on top of the sun
I wait for sunset
to fetch him down
all these holes
in my head
you climb in one
I climb out
another
I get there faster
than I do
by walking
(this old dirt road
lined with trees)
raindrop
there!
no, there!
thunderstorm
painting the desert
in watercolor
I tell the dog
next door
good morning
and he tells
everyone else
the shadow of a flower
resting
on my bare foot
on my way
to somewhere else
I take a side road
(without telling
my troubles)
warm evening
cottonwood tree
sinks into the rushes
and puts both feet
in the river
he goes to the church
with the prettiest windows
and the quietest god
no clouds
the blue
does all the talking
under the cardboard
the violets
keep pushing
the rain
puts a finger
in the koi pond
sun
sunr
sunri
sunris
sunrise
a second sun
floats
under the bridge
shadows of fish
flying underneath me
sun
slides down
the solstice
morning fog
drifts across the road
I give a cloud a ride
I tell the moon
the night is young
but he looks at me
with sunrise
in his eyes
the sun
on the face
of a sleeping
black cat
erasing the night
through the bars
a homeless cat and I
shake hands
he keeps giving it away
she keeps breaking it
someone puts one
in red spray-paint
on the overpass
that one long dream
I will have
when these are done
black-eyed susans
doing what the paint
could never do
wisps
of sky
being
old railroad tracks
and I
with nothing to do
we walk as far as
the bridge that isn’t there
if I wait for summer
long enough
the snow
will cover
all the fallen leaves
the neighbor’s dog
keeps asking me
if I’m asleep
the night
shows up
with nothing to say
and some stars
sleeping in his pockets
softer
than the night
in the trees
he comes to my yard
(this little bird
who owns the sky)
silly coyote
lying on the side
of the road
when you could be
chasing stars
beautiful red rose
no credits
no copyright
I keep looking
for the stairs to the sky
but the gate
closes too quickly
and I’m not allowed
how slowly
I must walk
with the ghosts of ferrets
always
between my feet
I ring this bell
for a reason
but the reason
fades
with the sound
walking the desert
some of the stones
open
secret wings
and fly away
hot sidewalk
the color
the ice cream used to be
yellow sky
coyote’s house
burning down
monarch
the stained-glass window
of the church of marigolds
so much trouble
so little
time
outside the gallery
a sunset hangs
unsigned
in the concrete
of me
your footprint
all these daisies
acting like
they were the first one
I tell june
she’s such a pretty girl
but she only smiles
and walks away
(just like may)
last day
of may..
june bug
it was a dark and stormy night
and the cat
is still mad
a flock of words
flies past
my house
the sky
is just
a blueprint
I find an old smile
I left in a box
up in the attic
I dust it off
and put it on
I keep an imaginary cat
who hunts for dreams
at night
and leaves them
under my bed
I spot a crow
who may or may not be
the same crow
I talked to yesterday
or the day before
cherry blossoms
in the rain
even the mud is beautiful
coyote
at my back door
in his teeth
all the memories
I buried in the desert
I listen
to a violet
talking with the sunrise
in the secret language
of purple
do not let
your heart
be the urn
that keeps
your own ashes
I learned
compassion
by holding a honeybee
(who did not sting me)
in my hands
bumblebee
leaves a haiku
in my ear
this world is a hive
I poke with a stick
sometimes, there’s honey
sometimes
just bees
I walked
to where I wasn’t
and now I am
so much sunshine
I walk
deep into the woods
to keep the darkness
company
crow
finds a place to sleep
between two stars
all the things
you think
you’re going to get done
(and then
a bird sings)
through the fence
the dog next door
writes a haiku
butterfly
scrapes off a bit of blue
from the sky
no wind
the windchimes
just listen
outside
she complained
that she never gets flowers
standing
in a sea of violets
all these colors
caught up
in being flowers
some of me
goes home
most of me
wanders off
deep in the woods