to know

There it is, an inner galaxy

a swirl of great and trite words

spins about a core, a black hole of meaning;

and even the light of reason cannot

escape the gravity of complication.

It is these frictions that illuminate-

the proof of struggle-

the glow that pursues itself

a chased dog tail is eternity

When I speak of Love

a power that binds unlike elements

connected into a molecule 

until it endures despite momentary forces

or explodes in a release of energy.

All to allow the possibility (--) this itinerant urgency (--)

to come together again, outwardly appear
as just another particle in time

but within  there is an unique quality

in each of the countless existences

to know as much or little

as we wish …yet realize this:

we keep these moments,

we feel them-

in the undeniable root of us-within us,

forever.

Siberian sky

suddenly we
were the dinosaurs
or the elk and deer of Tunguska
when the sky erupts and even
the air we breathe
becomes a force of reckoning

suddenly we
are those who did not listen
to voices humble and great
to truth from every place it was written

we are smaller parts of a small round world
it has neither lines nor walls, it breathes
in the glow of a cauldron in the cold deeps

suddenly we
are united as the speck on the wall
as the droplet of rain
as the flattened bug on windshield

when the sky is afire
when no single man can withstand
then, a moment that cannot be denied,
suddenly ...we





 Author's notes-

1) the Tunguska explosion
http://earthsky.org/space/what-is-the-tunguska-explosion

2) poem notes-
A meteorite over Siberia, traveling so fast its shock wave rattles
our buildings shatters glass-- and maybe shatters the blind comfort
we place in chance.  It is not certain that we could stop a life changing impact with
a rock from space...even in the movies it looks hard and needs a hero or She-ro
But it is certain that we can try,  and appreciate that everyone has a stake in
the welfare of the planet.  Everyone needs food, water, air, and a place upon which to stand--Earth is kind to us, but it wont do what only we can do to keep our toe hold on this
amazing world...hdm

winter's song

Beneath fresh snow

clean covers for forgotten tasks

a rest for thought as I decipher

a panic of birds for bread.

As a wind-blown this or that

makes lines like Picasso;

draws-in the eye then passions see:

a curve like a woman’s hip,

a vagrant stick paints

the ridge of  her lip. I  smile
as fluttered leaf shadows

make a butterfly like passion eyes;

lifts now and swirls among a crystal flurry.

Winter is a song of windy cedars

lean and brush, then hush for tympany

of rolling trash cans(--)within in

emptiness whispered words of love(--)

all rise to my eyes- a squint and blur

glad for chill sun, stillness between

gusts; pauses that uncurl and fill with

wishes for warm touches…