Magnets

ever have a day like that

when you become magnetic

in the aisles in a store

attracting people and

their laden shopping carts

pulling pedestrians off

the sidewalk without

them even knowing right

in the path of your car

which you of course slow

for the little iron filings

willed by something beyond

themselves to behave this way

not like yesterday when you

pushed everything

away—got a

clear shot up the street

down the road

through the thicket of

an undulating crowd

with your little mysterious

force field working silently?

science says the earth's

magnetic field

(which keeps us safe)

changes poles over time

due to what's deep inside

so why not us too?

Between Spark and Fire

Seductive shadow chaser

trilling in night air,

enough to ignite desire,

a hand-over-flame dare.

Bring the heat to this

iced heart--

show the way,

celestial star chart.

Fire and fuel are we

close at hand,

no choice but

chemistry's command.

Chase the shadows out,

become so dear,

melt the frozen coiled fear--

Live between spark and fire,

together we conspire.

Lie List

No, I'm not seeing anyone else.

Sure, I'll leave your money on the shelf.

I really have something to do.

Would I ever, ever lie to you?

I'm very experienced in this area.

Fancy free? Nothing's scarier.

I just want to be alone.

Nothing incriminating in my phone.

It's not you, it's me.

You're the one I've waited to see.

Of course I did well in school.

Of course I'll return your tools.

How many? Six, seven—no, eight.

But no, not tonight... I work late.

I'll wash your clothes, fold them too.

Have I ever, ever lied to you?

Fire's Promise

Let me light the lamp of you

your mercurial fuel--

it's me, it's what I do

bring me near and you'll

see and feel--

a shadowless flame

shimmers the bending light

makes wrinkles in time

wicks dip deeply in ancient oil--

endless reserves are there

once one finds it--

sweet pain of flame, the

tingle before the burn,

take me there again and again.

We blaze for a time, light and heat--

settling in to a steady flame

like hands pressed in prayer--

pointing up, not out--

heavenward, a halo of light,

a star in someone else's sky.

Dusk, Late June

Words in speeches echo, get

carried off in impatient air--

dozens of different scripts quietly

running, writing under square caps--

blue and white gowns over colors of souls,

tiger lilies for her, confetti and platitudes,

and the names called hang briefly and

they amble, saunter, swagger, sidle

across the ordinary grass as if it were

a high-wire or runway or pit of coals

as the ice-cream truck's song fades in and out

like childhood itself carried on the air

and the sun sinks slowly and fate smiles today

as dark clouds roll south and thin wispy

fingers overhead reach eastward, stretching

the sky as the sun is pulled down and away

beyond the plains and the purple rays

reach over hundreds of watts of smiles

on the darkening field and some are

lit within, radiating outward before

breaking rank, absorbed by the crowd--

little halos of light grab moments of time

to be seen again as they grow

into what some already know

and fill out shapes and outlines made today

on the island of grass inside the track

and the restless sky is pulling, moving overhead,

urging us all on into a sweet firefly night

as headlights find ways out and home

to never precisely return again.

Dropped

a tight group of
eight riders flying
down a dirt road
tires thumb-wide
heart pounding in
the head and arms bent
and wheels furrow the dry dirt
mid-pack riders inches apart
bike dancing beneath me
like skiing powder
feeling good and the
bike pulls left and
I follow the wheel
hundreds of tiny hands
grab the skinny tire
scrub off the speed and
a gap opens and riders
in front pull away
roll away like nothing
but it’s something and
I wheeze and stand on
the pedals alone in the wind
and there goes seven places
and I ride on inside myself and
riders ahead are miniature
figures and 17 miles to go and
I ride on to the
finish or oblivion
whichever comes
first.

202 South

Green lights ahead--

emeralds on a strand of

dotted white lines.

In the distance, hills lie

like sleeping women

as Orion reclines,

a hunter at ease,

in the May sky.

Spotted

Love was spotted

naked-eye visible

to any and all

at fifty yards

some time ago

for a while

since then

my armor

has strengthened

against arrows

of all sorts

and my senses

have sharpened

for dangers

not of pursuit

or capture

but the inevitable

release

of an animal

habituated

comforted

grown soft, even

then sprung

lean

wild

and

hungry

Invocation

Dear pen, give me what I want:
an ocean of green ink pouring out
precisely, a backward river flowing
from ocean to essence, small beginnings
deep in silent earth.

Dear mountain, give me what I want:
your willful intent to slow us and
show us, to lift us from our
flat perspective, to see
relief in the land.

Dear rain, give me what I want:
drops of the infinite and eternal,
which have fallen and risen
over and over again,
no worse for wear.

Dear night, give me what I want:
a chance to sharpen other senses,
quick fox sniff and feral cat ear twitch,
the will to find my path
without looking.

Dear stars, give me what I want:
the ability to see that a line in the sky
becomes a circle seen somewhere else,
even as your old light reaches
my searching eyes.

The Healing Dark

Sunblinded, sideways stumbling
my internal balance gone
others at ease--I’m fumbling
on a harsh green steamy lawn
too much exposure noise and light
what I want--need--is to withdraw
summer freedom not sitting right
I burn fast, my nerves gone raw
so I turn in to the healing dark
one sense denied, the others awake
a deep rhythm, a singer hits the mark
the cool air’s touch I take
this darkness on the brightest day
for a time to carry me away

Haiku

Fallow time now--seeds
of words below the soil wait
for nature's next cue.