ACROSTIC FOR A WOMAN I DO NOT KNOW NAMED KELLY

Keep a part of you just for me.

Each moment is our eternity.

Live your dream and your dream is your

Life. I offer all of me to

You. You. Who I do not yet know.

ALL I KNOW

Ate breakfast

Brushed teeth

Ate lunch

Ate dinner

Brushed teeth

Drank beer

Went to sleep

That’s all I know.

BEYOND, A SESTINA

When our years step from dust of time

And slip into those ceaseless tides

Of light that flow inside our minds,

We journey through the silver moon,

Lead by stars like the wise of old,

To that lost sea with waves of gold.

We step from mires of earthly gold—

Let others spend their precious time

Chasing wealth’s elusive tides—

Live on coins we mint with in our minds

Pay homage to our sun and moon,

Sing praises like in days of old.

Because we sing we are not old:

We live forever in clouds of gold,

High above the troubled mountains of time,

Beyond grasp of illusion’s tides

That pound suffering sand of minds

And shift our shores with passing moon.

We live beyond the beams of moon

Where light of stars is not yet old

As diamond echoes in a sea of gold,

Untainted by the muddy river time—

Clear crystals floating through rainbow tides,

Reflecting fire from beyond our misty minds.

Beyond this clouded pool of minds

That passes through the beams of moon

Knowing only ebb of young and flow of old,

There’s an age where every now is gold

Luster, undimmed by scales of time,

Pearled by love’s eternal tides.

Beyond these wave of generations tides

Beyond the dreams of suffering seeking minds

Beyond the pull of waxing waning moon

Beyond these days of young and old

Beyond this ball of sand and gold

Beyond this birth and death in time

Beyond the seas of gold and shores of time

There are tides of star filled gold

Raised by the moon of fertile minds.

BOAST TO A KLINGON

I AM THE KAYMER ROUGE OF YOUR IMAGINATION

I AM GENOCIDE KICKING

ROBIN THIGHS TOWARD

THE FIRES OF TOMORROW

I AM SYNTHAHAL DRIPPING

LIKE RAIN FROM YOUR EAVES.

I AM THE KHYBER PASS OF YOUR FEARS

SHRINKING

YOUR BALLS TIGHTER

THAN NUCLEAR WINTER

SPAWNED BY A HEATHEN EQUATION

I AM THE ENCRYPTION OF

ALL YOUR NIGHT MARES

POLLED BY A MAN

WITH SEVERAL PENNIES

INTO THE BLINKING PUPIL

OF TOMORROW

I AM THE STORY YOU

WERE GOING TO TELL

THE GRANDKIDS

BUT YOU FORGOT.

I AM THE HOLLOW ECHO OF

GRANITE BONES AND

ASHES ON THE PIT

GRILL STICK OF THE MILLENNIUM.

IF YOU CHALLENGE THESE WORDS

MAKE A SONG OF YOUR OWN

LET CACOPHONY AND MUSIC HARMONIZE.

BY THE SPHINX ROCK SOUTH OF CANNON BEACH

In silence

Grey clouds

Move north

Leave blue sky

And sunlight

Pouring through

The mist

Seen in front

Of shadows

By the cliffs of

White crystal

Fissured ebony

By the cliffs of

Blue pink green

Frescoed sandstone—

The pallets from which

Pigments are smeared

By the knife of the tide

Stroked by brushes of waves

Mixed with the oily winds

Onto a canvas of shimmering sands.

COOKIES

Sugar bones

Hone the hearts

Of happiness.

DECEMBER 30, 2002 TRANQUILITY BASE

Tonight the moon is deaf

And the sun came up

With its eyes closed.

White cold tears fell

And spring drank deeply

Of dreams of sun.

DOG-EARED ETERNITY

Feelin’ real thin

Like my bones been picked

But my loss

Is my asset

I get used to living

Without my heart

My lungs are only

A vital sound—

A tic in the

Dog-ear of eternity

DREAM FRAGMENT

Welcome to the realm of dreams

Where nothing matters much it seems—

No action is required

To know truth in any part

Of this singular realm of dreams

Where matter’s nothing much it seems.

DREAM OF MORNING

Clouds ring across highland

Flowered valleys

Vapor rises

From trees

With beams of rising sun

Wind whispers

Brittle melodies

Through needled boughs

The heart beat of night

Quickens into dawn.

A chorus of dewdrops

Lighten slowly the blades of grass

On which they have gathered

Through the night.

We search for the castle

Of Andromeda

Amongst the voices

In the stones

Whose shapes

Left behind on grainy

Shores remind us

We’ve been here before.

Let us awaken

The Highland memories

Locked in the towers of our souls

Let us awaken

The Highland memories and

Unlock the power of our whole.

Let us whisper again

Like rain drops

Along the edge of shallow seas.

Let us search for lens

To magnify the echoes

Of early morning bird songs

In harmony with the north side

Of the mountain.

May our hearts beat

As brightly as the rising sun

Resonate like spiral

Echoes through us as one.

The hum of bees blankets

The mountain, a thick

Comforter under which

A heart of honey beats

EVOCATION OF THE MUSE URANIA

Acrostic for Rikki

From the Source of stars man may never name

Rays of your fire, unprismed, shine

Earthward into this mind of clay.

Draw me outward into your clarity

Radiant being of celestial light and

Into tune with your etheric song.

Caress this corporeal pen with

Kisses from your dozen mouths in heaven;

Around my words guide your wise lips.

Allow my tongue to sing your knowing

Narrate the passing of your ten fingers

Near the harp strings of my heart.

Grant me union with your chords beloved

Urania, fill my dusty echoes with your praises,

New songs for earth bound ears to lead them

Nearer the light of your uncountable eyes.

EXIT

Comb the egress

For mutation.

FANTASY HAIKU

Today I saw you and I running

Naked through the waves

Holding hands with stars.

FIRST VERSE OF DON’T WANT A WOMAN BLUES

Don’t want a woman still growin’

Don’t want a woman all grown up

Don’t want a woman acts like my momma

Don’t want a woman acts like a wife

O Lord I want a woman

But I don’t want her life

Don’t want a child

Don’t want a crone

Don’t want a mother

Don’t want the thrown

FOR A NUDE MIME NAMED KAT 1994

An aura of sweet mystery

Surround the paths

The heart takes

On its journey

To its genesis—that smooth quivering tip

That shudders

The miming universe

Into eternity.

FOR LEEANN

When I write of love

All words are for

All I love

Each flakes a finer edge

On the blade

That pierces

The skin between

Me and you

And always.

12/27/2002

FOR NIXON AND ORWELL

Shred

Burn

Revise

Set the record

Record the lie to serve the end.

FOR PATTY THOMPSON ON NEW YEARS MORNING 1999

Parting space ahead with your heart

All your dreams come as true as

The truest course you chart.

Testing water well before you dive

Yields another and another breath

That keeps the heart alive

Here are the days we live, now,

Our only home—and the love we get

Magnifies the love we give.

Perseverance furthers accomplishing

Season’ mission—in their

Own time they bear fruit, abolishing

Negative encounters with the Borg.

FOUND POEM CHANNEL 3 NEWS 1/17/1998

"A huge blond guy with brownish hair . . .."

FOUND POEM

Quote from TV newscaster 11/15/97

"It burned up in the atmosphere

and landed safely in the ocean."

FRAGMENT

Bend with the river

Flow with the tide

Become one with the Giver

Living inside.

FRIENDS 1994

Those you have yet

To meet

Those you have yet

To greet

Those you will never

Meet or greet

Those you have known

Forever

Those you have known

Since you knew people

Those who helped

Those who hindered

Those who spoke and

Those who’s silence

Lead to new beginnings

Those with whom you

Made love

Those with whom

You didn’t

Those who are now

Ashes and worm food

Those who will draw

Their last breath

After you do

All are treasures

Equal in the chest

Of my heart.

GOT ME

Got me some simple earth carpet

Couple of guns and knives

Hanging from the wall.

Lots of old pictures

Books that I’ve hauled

To my cabin of glory

My tranquility base

By saving me

I save us all.

HARD ADVICE TO MYSELF

If the center will not hold

Then neither will the edge

And the tortured vocabulary

Of belief

Will shatter into a shuddering

Incongruous shower

Of sparks—the space

Between those stars

Is the udder of your mind.

Assimilation is futile---you too will die.

HAIKU

On singing sands

Shuffled steps

Echo starlight.

HUH?

Laughing man laughs

At love’s gone by

Haywire strata

Of bold confusions

Blithering neuron monkeys

Battling and bottling

Fusions

Dropping jewels

And turds

On the path toward salvation

Impatient are the swallows

To starvation

Gently rocking

The eyelids to dust.

IN GREEN INK UPON TURNING FIFTY

The voice of experience

Speaks from within

The voice of experience

Speaks from without

The voice of experience

Is a whisper

The voice of experience

Is a shout

The voice of experience

Is pitched high

The voice of experience

Is pitched low

Sometimes you swing

And miss

Sometimes you swing

And hit

Sometimes you

Don’t swing at all

The memory of experience

Is long

The memory of experience

Is short

The memory of experience

Is changing

The memory of experience

Is fixed

The memory of experience

Is adaptable

The memory of experience

Is tyrannical

The memory of experience

Precedes the peak experience

The memory of experience

Is preserved after peak experience

JUNIPERS

Drink mainly in the winter;

Roots filigreeing soil

Below the surface

A foot or two.

LATE APRIL 1981

The cloudy days of late April

Hang sullen the sky

Their lashes rarely

Dropping tears;

Their lids graying

With the inevitable

Shadow of spring

Winds bending

Grey blue juniper tops

Stretching heads

To suction

Infusions of moisture

With their roots—

--the wind

Between sea and sky

Opens seed beneath soil.

Buds, opening, opening

Fallopian focus

In the tide pools

Of tomorrow’s

Closing

Promises—condensing around

The claws of

Yesterday

Blowing all

Dust into the

Tides and waves

Of today.

LOCKS?

I’ve never worn out a key chain.

But I’ve worn out a lot of keys.

My head is in the heartland.

My heart is north of my knees.

LOVE 1994

I love unwrapping your paisley sensitivities—

Your quivering lips and tight curves

Astonishing me in the morning

More than dreams.

MORE LOVE 1994

Our voices meet and

Intertwine into warm

Songs of our listenings.

Our written words meet

And greet and delight and

Invite times of sharings.

Our smiles meet and

Wrap our lips around the

Sweet tongues of our reflectings.

MY SOFT AND GENTLE PEACH

For Cathy Annette

Caring is the first feeling that comes to mind

As I think of my West Virginia peach…

The way she laughs and giggles

Has me wanting her smiles and wiggles

Yet closer to me than net and phone. . .

And I feel her epporvesant bubbles

Next to me, as if I was in a tub

Next to her, feeling her caring

Embrace enfolding me, exciting me,

Trembling my heart to want to

Taste each trickle of sweet nectar

Exuding from the softness of her heart.

NEW YEARS 1999

It is tomorrow already

Plus a second

Or two closer to the millennia

A few seconds past dawn

In the information age.

The paradigm is shifting

At a Moore’s law quantum

Max Rictor scale gallop

And we are saddled

And ready to ride

The ones and zeros

The seconds

And thirds

And fourths

Into the broadband width

Of unknown cosmic storms

With the threads

Of our conversation

Scattered on the foam

Of the waves that break

Across satellite shores

Like bolts of lightening

Parting the hair of Zeus

As he reigns in all directions

With his steed.

NOTE TO FUTURE SELF 12/31/1997

Remember this day

This dream that you are

Having now

And realize your are living

It now

As well as now.

Be thankful.

Perseverance furthers.

ON FIRST MEETING JILL KATHLEEN ANDERSON

Jubilation greets me at every turn as

I meet a kindred spirit, ephemeral

Like a zephyr ringing a lake with smiles,

Like a comet tail glowing in black velvet space

Keeping my attention focused, joy greets me

At every turn, a heart as real as

The rising sun, a mind as real as

Heart, beating a tempo of truth.

Learning more with each

Encounter about where our spirits touch,

Each new tangent we explore brings

Nearer intersecting hearts.

Aphrodisiacally the mesh of your charms

Nullifies emptiness inside me and

Delivers new awakenings leading to visions of

Eternally awakenings in your arms

Reverberating emanations from the glow that

Surrounds you awakening knowings

On this premier corporal occasion at last

Now I know, at least, I love your smile.

ONCE AGAIN THE RAINS

Once again the rains come

With thunder and lightening

Durango Colorado

Morrow Bay California

Ahaucucho Peru

Then

Only thunder

And

The drip from needles overhead –

And one candle power

With the shadow of a pen dancing

Beneath the letters as they appear.

10/4/1994

ONE MORE ROUND

One week’s pay

In my pocket

Gotta remember

The rent

She ain’t been there

For three weeks—

Hell! I always got

My tent.

ONLY TEMPORARILY

My heart is bruised

And I’m confused

But only temporarily.

My heart is whole

And I’m in ecstasy

But only temporarily.

All things come

And all things go

But only temporarily.

All things change

And all things don’t

But only temporarily.

Sometimes the bomb goes off

Sometimes it don’t

But only temporarily.

I have the patience

I am only now

But only temporarily.

I’ve been behind

And I’ve been ahead

But only temporarily.

I’ve been inspired

And I’ve been dull

But only temporarily.

I’ve been blind

And I have seen

But only temporarily.

I’ve been sick

And I’ve been well

But only temporarily.

My heart has loved

And my heart is loved

That’s all I know

That isn’t temporarily.

PATIENCE PROGRESSIVE ACROSTIC

Patience, I’m not even sure how to spell it let alone practice it.

Practicing patience is a part of

All growing up.

Pacing the path of patience is an

Allegory for all that we must do as we

Tread the long path of life.

Piece by piece our priorities

Alter the terms of our growing

Toward fulfilling the terms of our

Individuality. Little by little our

Particular understandings of

Attention lead us on

Toward accomplishments that

Intimate our worth. In each moment

Eternity is contained.

Peace with our virtues and vices

Alleviate the pressures that

Try and tribulate our wholes.

In each of us a speed drives

Each moment toward merger with the

Next. Beginning steps on a

Path commit us to completion.

All paths may be abandoned if a

Truer path appears. No blame

Issues from a wise correction.

Each heart beats at a different speed.

Now is all ways the time of complete

Connection—but not for all.

Patience is the ability to incorporate

All connections with our

Time; to extend and relax our

Interpretation of the speed at which

Energy must proceed; to balance

Need with knowing. Each seed we

Carefully planned and tender growing

Ensures full harvest of the whole.

QUOTE FROM ME IN 1994

"To maintain integrity

In many different

Quantum realities

Is the true test

Of sanity."

QUOTE

"I just got to get drunk

once or twice in a while."

REAL ESTATE

Sun comes up

And sets.

Moon comes up

And sets.

Rain falls.

Sun shines.

Erratically. But cyclic.

Mind dawns.

Becomes self aware.

Seeks meaning.

Anything that furthers

Less suffering,

Furthers.

REVERSABLE POEM FOR RIKKI

Through your fingertips

Small magic parts of you revealed

Keep pulsing through me—

Like bubbles, enchanted fantasies

Rising, expanding, amplifying,

The heartbeat I feel

Through your fingertips

ROSY THE RIVETER

Passion, elusive mistress

Of our mind

We see you, try to catch you

But instead

You arrest us

Cuff us

To the bars of

Our insistence,

Set impossible bails

On the buckets that rivet

Us to our Rosies

And those rings

That clang

In the ears of our hulls.

SEASONS

The dry twisted grin

Of Fall

Laughs with winter teeth

Chewing the chiclets

Of Summer heat

Into the spittle of Spring.

SKY BUFFALO

An acrostic for Thunder Hoof

There was silence. There was sound—a

Heartbeat from afar.

Under your hooves beating, a heart

Nearing closer to my own.

Deep through the silence, silent

Echoes of knowing wander and

Reach, connecting full

Hearts learning to share all with the

Other like beating heart, with the

Other heart beneath the fine

Feathers of your galloping hooves.

TEN LINES

For Zoe Althaea

Zeus’ daughter responds to

Overt presentation; underlying conceptual

Equations balance creative links to distant

Aqua seas. Are blue eyes destined to

Look into similar pools

That reflect accumulation of

Heart beat propelling us toward

All keys to understanding why

Each of us is separate and

Always, in each other, discovering unity?

9/17/2000

THANKS FOR YOUR REPLY DENISE

I imagine the sparkle

In your deep warm

Brown eyes when

First you hear my voice;

I imagine drops of

Silver dew cling

To the roots of happiness

In the morning sun—

Awaiting the rising

Of the moon.

THANKSGIVING ACROSTIC

For my brother Ron

Hearts gather around a meal to celebrate

All that has granted happiness. Each

Person a part of a whole with many faces.

Peace with providence is the

Yeast that leavens contentment.

Thanks to the Providers of my breath and

Happiness. Their questions envision

Answers to the fulfillment of my dreams.

Never ending is the thanks I extend to family

Knowledge that is passed on to me. I

Sing with pride a song of thanks for the many

Gifts. All are enriched by each

Individual contribution of the heart.

Versatility of our talents leads each

Individual to a separate knowing.

Near to the heart of receiving is the spirit of

Giving. Thanks for all the days of my being.

TWELVE TIMES TWELVE LINES ABOUT TIME: A DOUBLE SESTINA

With each regular, predictable passing of the sun

We gather strength from the maw of that golden trumpet,

Power that enables us to conquer the fear of hunger,

Endurance that emboldens our heart for the hunt.

We measure the tongues that cry our number

By the good things done and said that we remember--tic

We learn by endless naming to divide

Until all the passion of our hearts are full.

We measure our worth by the ringing of the bell

As we ceaselessly continue in groups to gather

And choose to perpetually forget—tock

There will always be a waning of the moon.

Each circle more we make a louder trumpet

Strives us toward the root of our hunger;

Structures us to increase the intensity of the hunt.

There is a limited season and we know the number

We must leave and we must take and we must remember—tic

So there will be enough among all to divide.

Seldom empty and seldom full—

Students all, we answer the bell.

And the more of us who gather

The more of us that forget-tock

The rising and setting of the moon

The setting and rising of the sun.

Knowledge needed to quell the hunger

Knowledge of when to begin the hunt

Must be recorded by a number

As simple as breath to remember—tic

A construct by which we can divide

The space between empty and full

Yes, we need a bell!

Around about which all can gather

And all may learn not to forget—tock

The passing phases of the moon

The revolving journey of the sun—

A calendar will be our trumpet.

Pick a time. Call it first time. Time to hunt

Call time. Outta time. A fine time to engrave a finite number

A starting point that most alive remember—tic

A band aid on the wound that all of us divide.

Choose an event on birth that is full

Of apex and crux and that rings a bell,

And around that definition many will gather

And soon convince all who don’t remember to forget—tock

Erect edifices and monument to the moon

And enduring homages to passings of the sun.

Endgame is signaled by the call of the trumpet

Triumph that fills but does not satiate the hunger.

2

Carve on the stones, a record of the number

Since we choose to begin to remember—tic

The moment where now and then divide.

We return to where what is full

No matter how far away we heed the bell

That beckons blood to gather.

Before the recording of time leads us to forget—tock

The world records the first step of man on the moon

Cannot get strong enough to tread on the sun

Heed is the hardest call of the trumpet

That reminds us there was a time of hunger

That taught us again to hunt.

Words merge and measure that which we remember—tic

Words that from our selves our selves divide;

Midnight and noon make our songs full

Make us all slaves that answer the bell

That calls our collective mind to the gather

To begin again to acknowledged and forget—tock

To see the darkness and waxing and waning and full moon

To celebrate the rising of the setting sun

Words lull us to slumber and awaken us like the blast of a trumpet!

Works left behind; the measure of hunger

Words that motivate and dedicate truth of our hunger.

Words that will fix the permanence of our number.

Let each length of burning wick divide

The whole of life in full

Let us teach prayer time, ring a bell

That urges us around common belief to gather

Each movement of the burning of fires induces us to forget-tock

That forever we have seen the phases of the moon

That forever we have seen the setting of the sun

And since the first wick burned enforced the first dawn trumpet

Awakens us from the needs of hunger

Awakens us from the needs of the heart

Feeds us all in our increasing number

And trains us all to remember--tic

3

We love it when streams and lakes and reservoirs are full

When their depths lower, conservation rings a bell

When the floods recede we, with seed, gather

Our tears of famine we can not forget—tock

We stand stones carefully at passing of the moon

Build grand edifices to recall the wandering of the sun

Vanquished cold, returning warmth trumpet

The solution to gnawing of our hunger

By the same signs we know again the time of hunt

Melting snows and burning sand separate our number

But by the mark of a singing shell we remember-tic

If one is separated, we all divide.

Shape your metals into a bell

Ring it to signal the hour to gather

For purposes no one should forget—tock

Shape a wheel to mimic the passing moon

Shape a cycle to mimic the passing sun

Awake to the whistle, answer reveilles’ trumpet

Alleviate all thirst and hunger

With bellies filled by harvest of the hunt.

Choose an internal eternal, cast it into a number

Chip it into stone and steel and so all remember—tic

That, that which long did divide

Now makes all of us full.

About you the knowledge of antiquities gather

Remember to remember to forgive and forget—tock

Manners vary from noon to moon

Predictably (so far) there is a return of sun

And with it we arise as one, at the sound of dawn’s trumpet

Toward regular again rising stars leans our hunger.

Capture the most meat on the hunt.

The ancient humming heart beat of our number

Furrows our brow to cause us to remember—tic

That we were only one before the great divide

All of us were whole and all of us were full—

We helped all of us so all could answer the bell.

Bones to dust teach us to forget—tock

The blood in our veins is in cycle with the moon

Eyes open, mouths open, children of the sun

Pour breath and shift the trumpet

That blows release from hunger

None the less we’re going out to hunt

Because full belief increases our number

And the more of us there are, the more we remember--tic

The more fair is the shared divide

Until all of us are always full

And all of us labor to heed the bell

That joyously rings and beckons us to gather.

4

Breath counts the kaliyugas of the moon

Organizes organisms to record the passing of the sun

Priorities of work insure we answer the demand of the trumpet

All must remember, all must remember the hunger

And gather because of the bounty of the increased hunt;

All must remember not to forget to remember--tic

All must strive to lessen the divide

That keeps us from always being full

That keeps us chained to answering the bell.

Together we disperse and we gather

So the all we do not forget--tock.

Sun awakens each new morning trumpet

Hunger moves the heart to beat

Numbers of mouth to feed causes us to remember —tic

Divide until all have some though no one is full

Bells well answered assist as we gather

Forget—tock --not all the waxing and wanings of the moon .

UNTITLED

If it wasn’t for you

I’d have gone completely crazy.

It’s hard to believe

I took you seriously.

My lifelong dream

Is a by gone dream.

You weren’t

What you seemed.

You are only a whole

In the pocket of my dreams.

WASHINGTON SALUTE

Blue Pacific waves wash the western sands

Of Washington, breaking the stones and clay

Into islands and deep channeled waterways.

Open mouths of river speak the harvest

Of melting snows; sheaves of salmon, trout

And irrigated fields are gathered and gleaned

In a barn of rain.

Man following game, fleeing ice fields farther north,

Or lost mariners arriving a currents’ end,

It’s hard to say from where they came—Indians,

White men called them when he historied his discoveries.

Pioneers came by horse and foot, on ships around the horn,

Open mouths hungering for furs and gold and land

For freedom and adventure on the Washington frontier.

They spread through valleys and up the mountainsides,

Open mouths to the bounty of the land;

Planting strong seeds, growing vital generation

Of Washington pioneers, cutting

Trees for warmth in ocean fogs and winter snows,

Building houses and roads and arteries

To connect them to the heartbeat of the world.

Washington mountain peaks—open mouthed

Jewels on the ring of fire—their ancient stopped

Tongues tasting roots of apples and grain and

Feeding open mouths of deer and sheep

And cows, feeding milk and paper and wool

To the world from the clean pure air

Through with the eagles fly.

Washington rivers, arteries spanned and harnessed

For the fire of their flow; fissioning stones of

Mustang power in a shaky cage feeding

Open mouths prana of our industrial age:

Trout swimming crystal mountain streams,

Salmon returning to spawn the next

Generation at their place of birth.

Green and brown and blue Washington

Dry and hot and wet and cold and temperate,

An ever new adventure for young and old—

Open forest, rolling plateau and high rise needled space—

Washington State on blue Pacific’s shore, with

Open mouths, we salute your one hundredth year—

You’re a great place on planet earth to be.

August 12, 1987

YOU ARE FANTASY 1994

You are fantasy

Become reality

Your whispered

Wet dawn kisses

Shuddering my heart

Into an avalanche

Of desire.