Tag Archives: poetry

I’m not sure I noticed
the grand old oak on the ridge
when it was alive with so many

green others before the drought.
Crushed today, it wrapped
its brittle branches around me.

At first light, a hole in the clouds
up canyon, a fresh and fiery moment
approaching the wonder of all things—

especially the egrets, herons, and hawks
out early stalking gophers and squirrels
as the night sky catches fire.

But I’ve given-up collecting signs
of what’s to come—or of the consequences
of all we’ve done.

I measure short distances with my eye
and the pulsing neon price in my bones.

Back to basics, I would rather melt in place
and be reconstituted among the grasses

than leave my soul among the self-righteous
corralled within their alabaster fortresses.

I quit the bunch and shed the nasty weight
of their guilt and hate for one another.

I want to watch among the remnants
when the angels make their gather, and

on the embers of their fire, hear songs rising
to join the stars—now that would be heavenly.