Monthly Archives: August 2018


last night a Barred Owl
in the tree behind our house

like a Buddha
in prison clothes


the light of your
saving otherness
silvers the tin birds
above the hand-painted pond

like the headlight
on the model train
you left behind
for bigger
and better things

Monk on the Ridge

“At midnight we raise their wine to tomorrow” — W. S. Merwin

a caftan shirt made of powder
smells of cinders and bergamot

leaving the city tunnel at noon

the ridge goes where I go
of old wool and garage blossoms
make me a pallet

on older snow the sun passes away

monarch butterflies
drift upwards
bubbles in older wine

monks walk like credit cards
making betrayal a thing of calendars

in the abandoned hours
after solstice