Page II

It's cargo more precious than gold -
                 sailing moon

Like the young beds of kelp
off the coast at Point Reyes
that sway with the currents
this way and that
your every whim moves me

In Monet's painting, the little girl isn't any
           farther down the hill today

If my dream only knew
you were dreaming of me too
we might have met there -
on the path lovers' dreams take
when they are apart

The old dog, foot bandaged, limps along, like most of us

Waiting for the whales to surface -
the gulls cry out first

I vowed to put all these thoughts of you aside -
Yet how they come back to me now,
begging at the door of my heart
like a child lost its way in the night

Nothing's to be done or undone
the eye that sees this sees itself seeing

The brilliance of this jewel
will never fade -
Is that why you sent it back,
knowing well your heart could not match
its unclouded beauty?

My mind is confused -
I can not tell on which I ride -
The steady, swift currents of everyday life
or the whirlpools
that make me dizzy with love

All afternoon the wind in gusts
buffets the maple outside my window -
Not one moment in my heart is still

You've gone on such a distant journey
the dream paths between us
are long and difficult -
Is that why I awaken each night
with such weariness?

to S. W.

Though the seas change
from green to blue to green again
my affection for you
remains clear and calm
as the day we first met

fly and moth
have taken to my lamp
this rainy autumn evening

poetry cuts quick and clean as a knife
now and again, you'll hear the scream

Moon shattered
                    a thousand ways -
stone breaks pond's silver mirror

When your tender feelings begin to fade -
go tell it
under the blossoming plum tree

They beat their drums, and
                          chant his name -
but the Buddha won't come out of hiding

Poems don't come like they used to
I have to coax them like a reluctant
Come on sweet poem open up your lovely
            ass here I come

for John Crowley

I'll give you something to think about poetry
            is useless that's right
its great beauty shines on every face
            like the sun

This heart that cherishes you
remembers well all your fine words
Though you try now to disparage them

A pine tree's fallen across the path
               I've chosen -
I wade the White Clay Creek,
admiring water plants

That mugger took my wallet knocked off
                 my glasses
I didn't have to beg him or explain
Anything, but don't hurt my poetry

Eight pelicans fly north
along the Pacific coast -
A little wind stirs around my shoulders

At the Cafe Flore
you wink at me,
and the still glowing ember inside me ignites
My heart goes up in flame

The water's too cool for swimming the
         sandpipers run up and
down Black Sand Beach they never get
         their feet wet

Under the autumn moon
I go on living -
Won't you send a small token
to let me know
you're thinking of me?

Words don't move inside us the way silence does.
To learn the difference is to throw yourself open
to what lies beyond description.
Then the real story begins....

Longing is the great sea we drift on
Day and night we taste the salt of it
every inch from head to toe
No one knows how lovers come back
after going under

for Tommy Dowling

What a shock to think of my friend dead
His voice going on in my head now
the feel of his hand on my thigh 12 years ago

Not knowing what to do with my love,
I put it away in a dark place -
Now, after seeing him,
my day once again is filled with regret

The scent of pine needles
fills my room -
The memory of our last night of love-making
does not fade that easily

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