Thursday, November 27, 2014

When I Won the Voice of Democracy Contest

I remember how
clean his eyeglasses were.
He took care of himself.
and expected people to
listen when he spoke.
With his black,
political, contrasty suit,
scrupulously laundered,
his face was red and
he took large steps.
I remember the honor
in his presence,
as if he had some
magical favors
he could grant.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

My Poem is in Here

Monday, November 24, 2014


The ghost must live
in a different time zone
or waits until
just before dawn
to make its rattly noises.
They live in a yellow hive of four
in the old wooden house
where snow comes early
north of where long trains go.
They live in a blue
knot of three, spiring
in a Vancouver tower.
We are two
green on an eastern harbor.
I can only
hear the breathing.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

"After": A Photoshow

Sunday, November 16, 2014


It is time
for someone else.
I will sit
shaded under the awning
watching the color
and clapping.
A special kind
of loneliness
resides in the audience,
smiling faintly.
They all do well.
I smile quietly.
Nobody catches my whisper.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Zen for a Slot Canyon Hiker

The passage
as I incautiously
wedge onward.
At this stage in the game
do I still have to worry
about finding the way back?
Why can't I
just let the days lighten, darken,

Sunday, November 02, 2014

Portrait of Wednesday: Photoshow