Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Late Sun

Riding along the
rural road this evening, the
burn in my muscles
dropped away for a time, and
the late sun glowed like honey.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Ode to the Peloton

Sweet rolling
order and chaos,
sinuous and shifting,
amorphous, flowing
over the road's shapes,
shelter from capricious
wind, my friend and foe.
Hive mind, move as one,
an agile flock in flight,
tuned to one's wing flick
and subtle vector.
My solace and my prison--
escape off the front,
fade away and die
off the back.
Mercurial as the wind
you split, fast then slow,
easy until it is not,
and again, brakes like
grabbing hands preface
the fire in tight sinew, burning
red pain betrayed only by
the slight whirr and whoosh.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

A Typical Afternoon

The music of the cooling
wind in the linden tree,
sedate summer birdsong,
maple-filtered light and
relieving shade in which
I now find myself
were here before I
noted them—just steps
away from routine.
So, too, in my mind,
to the I behind my eyes,
the self expanding out
from the physical, beyond
limbs, but not beyond reach.
Something within yet larger,
as the wind and air here
join seamlessly with sky,
though no one can say
precisely where.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

A Simple Dance

So much was said, when
my hand was on your back,
where you placed it, warmth
beneath soft cotton, where
I pushed and released, felt you
move beneath my palm,
with the band's beat,
toward me, away, back,
in time, like breath,
unified rhythm, this simple
music as our bodies conversed
on the sloping floor, yours calling
mine back from some strange journey,
to this new, unified rhythm,
your smile saying, simply,
keep going.

Friday, July 18, 2014


I observe my thoughts,
running loose but not far,
like dogs in a fenced yard,
worrying down familiar paths,
fretting around trees already marked.
I see them, zigzagging, crouching,
laced with potential energy,
charging, repeating. Let them
tire themselves out. They will
slow down, quiet, come to me
with wet noses and frantic tails,
right to my hands, when they
are bored and hungry.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Kids on the Edge

The faceless voice announced,
the adult swim will be ending in five minutes,
and we kids lined up at the pool's rounded
concrete edge, bent like Olympians
waiting for the gun, our shadows lunging
over the old man slowly backstroking
through the calm water, oblivious
beneath his swimming cap of
the potential energy of children
fueled on soda and soft pretzels
during the interminable fifteen-minute
wait found in every hour, with
soft rock playing from the speakers
high on poles--Afternoon Delight
to my kid mind was nothing more
than what we were doing every day
of that summer, longer then than now,
waiting by the side of that pool, always
poised on the edge of something.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014


My thoughts:
Floodwater filled with
sediment, bits of what
has been consumed
blended to brown,
opaque and bitter.

No negotiating with
this torrent. Best to
give it room and time
to spread, slow and settle,
return to clarity,

this swelling river seeking
an ocean's release.