DiaBLOGue

Forgotten Birds

The black-cassocked crow 
broods in the eucalyptus 
where blood-red umbellates 
breathe out the odor of camphor. 
As the graves grow green 
and spring missiles its 
multitudinous wings,  

Domestiku

the blade that scrapes one face 
tomorrow scrapes another’s legs 
smooth for each other 

The Goodness of Created Things

Amber, formerly pine sap where ant wings settled, feathers, the occasional 
tiny frog. A drop of the Jurassic Age I wear around my neck.  

A Chop Wizard with its plastic cup, blades, hand crank tearing into the 
onion like a cheetah, membrane and flesh.

If Joseph Smith Had Been Born in California

The angel met him once every four years  
in what is now the Ina Coolbrith Park. 
The first time digging them up took longer 
than the angel had anticipated. 

As If Nothing Matters

When I looked at the body 
I thought only in clichés, 
those that I had yet to experience 
for thirty years. 

Reverse Perspective

May 14, 2017  I dreamt of Pavel Florensky, black-bearded, white-robed, scrunched and sharpened face, quizzical eyes, stepping into a dark classroom, eerie light in a still shaft from the rain-battered skylight above, unblinking student cadets…

Faith

I once thought Faith the expense to secure 
A pass aboard the Boat That Cannot Sink, 
Destined for the Island Of The Sure: 
A place of facts, concordance, sutured chinks. 

In Memoriam: Neil Longo

Neil Longo, a lover of nature and of thought, ended his life on November 29, 2017. He was my student five years earlier and kept in touch with me. I had picked up hints of…

At Least

god enters the man & the man
gets delirious 

I lie down on my shadow