draft
I did, I went to visit, that green field, the one I could never mix the paint for, to replicate.
By now, the clever twitches of the wristwatch, the trembling puppet from it’s plasic strings, the collection of clover, that were meant for luck, pressed behind glass, songs we’d forgotten to play and dance to on […]

draft
This starry, my atlas, with pages folded down, of where I am meant to go. Here, printed between the lines, the veins that thread and fold in the center of the earth, create a coat made of tides, ripples, the rock tossed with intent into water, fans out, touches us, makes us wake in […]

from 1991
The Magician
He will not give to anyone
the pears for which the place is known.
I watch him through blown glass windows
in black rubber boots passing
with an empty, blue wheelbarrow.
His eyes are the color
of the golden skin on those pears,
those hidden pears
he makes appear
and disappear
like magic.
I have played with your colored blocks.
I know the way it […]

in devotion and celebration of yogi bhajan ji
“music: when people forget their songs, they forget their harmony, their melody, and essence of life. as long as your songs live, you will live, you will live and everything will come to you. as long as you sing your songs, you will cut through all […]