Geometry I prove a theorem and the house expands: the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling, the ceiling floats away with a sigh. As the walls clear themselves of everything but transparency, the scent of carnations leaves with them. I am out in the open And above the windows have hinged into butterflies, sunlight glinting where they've intersected. They are going to some …
Poetry
Black Bees Carry …
A passage from The Lover of God, in which Rabindranath Tagore sings of the passionate longing of Radha for Krishna, of any lover for his/her Belovèd: He's there among the scented trees, playing the notes he has taught you. Too late for embarrassment, shy doe nibbling at the forest's edge, shawled in deep blue shadows. He's calling you. The flower of your soul is opening, little deer. The …
Watching the Light Play
Another poem compliments of Gary Young, this time in a prose-poem format ... The earth submits to seasonal drift. The stars slide, and the planets swing higher over the horizon every day. This morning the sun sent a shaft of light through a rift in the redwoods; it followed the steep angle of the canyon, skirted the stream, the wild azalea, the granite cutbank, and shone on the brick stoop …
Light Streaming
Walking Home from Work Asphalt and gravel flex with my shoes as the heel hits and pulls the rest of my body forward. Ahead of me, twilight is ending and the ragged outline of the mountain is glazed with iridescence, each tree singular and sure. Each night the same. Or if not the same, then part of one long night that leads me to my house, there on the high ground of the foothills. A …
Where Thoughts Never Think To Wander
For a New Beginning In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge. For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown. It watched you play with the …
O Nameless Joy
The Laughing Thrush O nameless joy of the morning tumbling upward note by note out of the night and the hush of the dark valley and out of whatever has not been there song unquestioning and unbounded yes this is the place and the one time in the whole of before and after with all of memory waking into it and the lost visages that hover around the edge of sleep constant and …