Eschaton

Slack skin and arthritic hands.
These are the raddled lands

where at the dusk of time
an old man lies,

his head to the wall,
his feet to the door.

I will rest here forever more,
facing the dusty window sill

and the yellow lights outside
running a bent line up the hill until

I find a way to survive.
There is a silence to tell.

Summer, Alive

A jack rabbit, startled,
flies at the barbed-wire fence,

over the dense weeds,
towards the sun, which is rising in the East.

A boar picks acorns
one hundred yards away.

A gray cat stalks by,
feral and stray.

Stonyford 2015

Coyote yelp:
a throat-caught call
from hills
half a mile East.

Man as beast:
pelts clipped to a wire.
Water and ash
in a barrel four feet deep.

Soap hung on a fence
keeps the sheep safe.
Cows low, upset --
they are separated from their calves.  Seek

not so much to be understood
as to understand.
Here is a sandstone mortar and pestle
used to grind acorns in the past.

Fling

Daisies in May
faces bob and sway.

Yellow, white:
he loves me,

he loves me not.
Kiss the spot

under your chin,
then run away.

Controlled Burn

Prescribed by the forestry,
hundreds of square acres
smolder.

__________The smoke
rises and drifts to the South.
Sweat on his brow,

a man bows to the ditch
before him.
_____Flames, orange and wild,

lick the brush.
__________He feels a rush
of blood to his head.

His partner stares,
inferno-led,
_____fixed on a dead

squirrel not five yards
away.
_____The men stay

at a temporary camp.
Tonight they will rest,
but for now the sun

sparks in the sky,
_____a white-hot
__________arc lamp.

Black scraps run up --
_____ashes of burnt prayers --
__________to heaven.

Lavender, Rosemary, et Alia (a Garden Poem)

Abutting the kitchen
_____a witch's dream

Thyme and parsley

_____Carnations, red
smell of spiced cream

Snip
_____Fold
__________Clean rag

Gold saffron alone

grows elsewhere.  Seed

Dill in a windless
_____corner

Chives pay their rent every day:
faithful boarders

Cilantro for salsa --
delicioso

_____Garlic also
summons bees

__________Rosemary
(memory's friend)

_____remind us this year
what sprouts again

Commute

Yawning beyond into haze,
the bay from I-80 seems
littered with islands.

The water is still.

We filled the tank
at Dunnigan.  Past the windmills
near Vallejo

light streams in

blinding the driver and me.
Hills, green, roll by.
We cut off a a red Corvette

driven by some heavyset guy --

his car has tail fins
and a popped trunk.
By the time the sun has sunk

before us, to the West

we are approaching
the exit.  It took an hour.
Our best time yet.

Walking Along La Playa

Crows standing in a line.
Moss on the North side --
the monkey puzzle tree breathes

a sigh of relief.  They seem
further away than they are.
Each among the murder

ducks his head in turn.
One flaps his wings, caws
and is gone in the time

it takes to hum two bars from a pop song.
Another alights on the bare branch
of a bent and otherwise lush jade plant.

Omen of Life

Chaparral-adorned hills recline like an odalisque.
The horizon rises three
fingers to the sky.

Hot, dry sandstone keeps its own
counsel as the interrogatory
sun beats it.  One

vulture interlopes.  Descry
what you like or hope
from its flapping, black shape --

the bird's lack of company
signals that it meets another's fate
far, far away.

Indian Valley, March 11th

Golden poppies unlock.
__________Sunrise
livestock --
_____Heresford --
graze along a violet and green
_____hillside;

they move seldom.

Scattered rain clouds above
__________tell lies:
Outline
_____simple truth
until the sky purples to mean
_____twilight.

Poppies twist closed.

Ladoga

Black walnut trees overhang the creek.
The nearest bank is choked with blackberry

bushes.  To seek and to hide,
that one might arrive

dry just by threading between raindrops --
my Thermopylae

is the gravel crunch underfoot.
Soot from a brush fire on a lone, weathered boot.

Bear Valley

Larkspur, violets, and golden poppies
litter a field that runs up
to mountains.

A drowsy bumblebee
weaves around me.
I stand facing East,

my hand shielding my eyes
from the morning sun.
There is no wind --

unusual for the month of March.
My shadow starts
behind my heels.

Halo

Winter-stunned,
the blind sun
encircled by ice;

it shines not to see
but to be seen
by rogue and saint alike.

Each damp face
upturned and served
with warmth, every one.

Lett's Lake

The water has a mirror finish;
it reflects dark green pines.

So many times we walked around
looking for the best spot for rainbow trout.

A silver-hulled boat glides by;
the man in it rows with a silent nod.