Monthly Archives: August 2015

The Gypsy

Within a man there is an old vagabond A free spirit who without a warning will suddenly go absent without leave at the sound of a bull frog croaking or goose wing squeaking before dawn An old gypsy sleeps best … Continue reading

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On Talking and Listening

The blue jay squawks from a branch in the tree What its voice lacks in grace it makes up for with machismo A trucker kicking a flat tire blurting a crude obscenity The songbirds listen Like August lightning they flash … Continue reading

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Dog Days

These are the dog days of summer when we grow content with doing nothing Bake bread not for hunger but to use up aging fruit Watch old TV shows not for entertainment but as an excuse to let the mind’s … Continue reading

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Beatitude

Blessed be they who with eyes on the horizon set out past sight of landfall The sea she is a cranky mistress her compass free spinning when passing ruins of ship`wreck treasures And Woe to any sailor who turns when … Continue reading

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Three Haiku: Summer

i. daylight is ochre filtered thru heavy woodsmoke a hundred wildfires ii. the great white mountain hides her face behind the scrim of human folly iii. in the eternal stream the sockeye stack like cordwood awaiting the rains

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The Coulee

In the failing light the river flows in quicksilver through the endless wild canyons their ridges running from a soft purple to a deep blue where they meet the mercury There’s no wind at this hour No sound the rocks … Continue reading

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Red Robin

A red robin found her way into my blueberry patch Not exactly an easy task as the plants are tightly netted Temptation being what it is the fat dark sweet berries fairly bursting with juices proved too much for my … Continue reading

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Cross`Tide

Running out on an incoming tide the boat fights the current The motor labors in its trench while the bow rises & falls in the swelling arms of lunacy This then is our destiny We who came into this life … Continue reading

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On Ambition

It is that which lies just beyond the grasp that is one’s greatest treasure For the gold one carries in his pack will but make his achy shoulder stoop and in the night keep him from sleep for fear a … Continue reading

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The Hermit

The stone slips through water leaving no sign behind save for the momentary splash then save for the passing ripples then save for the eternal quiet The shore pays no mind familiar with water and stone This life slips through … Continue reading

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On Writing

I do not carry a pad of paper a stub of pencil when sauntering out into the woods for words that pass through my thoughts walking on the salal to the oyster`shells crushed now along a weathered shore Words here … Continue reading

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Bowling in Heaven

I see this morning the bowling lanes of heaven are open & doing a booming business The angelets setting up pins fast as balls return while an archangel chalks up his pallid fingers so as to get a better grip … Continue reading

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