Sunday, June 26, 2016

Butterflies and Turtles: Photoshow

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mt23bEyvp-8&feature=em-upload_owner

Monday, June 20, 2016

Saturated

I know that
what we call real
is important. But it's so
watered down by sharing.
What I really want
is so much stronger,
even if I get
a whiff of it,
even within a
mile, everything fades.
I would kill myself
following the trail
to what I really want
and never reach it.
.
The core of a human being
can be very small.
The grandest parts can be
in the shell where all the
color corporalizes.
But the core can be the
crier in the night.



Sunday, June 19, 2016

Once Alive


As far as conservation is concerned
my species eats itself
so losses are minimal.
The skin cells dry
but the protein remains.
We can flavor it
with our imaginations.
.
As far as sustenance is concerned,
once alive
is better than
alive still.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

The Social Life of Animals


Photoshow
https://youtu.be/I5-v_IiecQM

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Three Things I Try for the Last Time


1. The motion in the trees
is an index to
map the shape of the air.
In all my years,
I've never seen you,
ghost of the sky.
.
2. I am learning
the capabilities of my
senses for the last time.
It being late.
.
3. She is never
so happy as when
she is talking
to animals.
What she knows
vaguely is better than
certainty.

Thursday, June 09, 2016

Voices of Israel


Two of my poems have been accepted for the "Voices of Israel: 2016" Edition

"Women"
.
Since I stopped being wavy
I knew the truth;
felt their weight;
heard the pounding of their feet;
knew their flesh;
saw the raw unelaboration of their faces;
heard their voices;
tumbled around their rage.
Yet somewhere
where my boyhood
lingers, I still expect
angels.
.
.
"Weather"
.
We spent the night
under the protection
of the earth, as
the earth protects its own.
I could hear the
foghorns deep in the bay.
We slept inside the
warm wet womb of cloud
that pressed us tight
against the affections
of the stone.

Monday, June 06, 2016

What Happened to the Itchy Toes?


Don't worry
my sand became pearl.
My itchy feet
became dream stuff.
The syrupy
immunity of dreaming
found its shape.
By now,
I know the
fluid of the Earth.
The inside of my eyelid
can model every
current and every
thunderstorm.