- - Carpe viam "seize the road" was Horace's alternative in space instead of time diem and viam both symbols of the circl...

- - It’s a remarkable thing when what you’ve been meditating on and practicing, important truths of human nature—identity, humility, sorrow...

- - Caravanserai Cords of silken blood flow in the peaks and passes of my body, a traveling miracle, while I read the news, all of...

- - Resurrection pulses through me like a river pushing aside moments of death. My foot steps ahead toward the Russian olive, solitary, ...

- - The Soul’s Correspondence Freely, the black locusts bend and wave from limbs and fingers, waterfall spray across their stone slab ...

- - Here's a bit of experimentation as I contemplate what lasts . What they’ll say when she’s gone I can’t believe I will never h...

- - graveyard in Kinsale, Ireland The Prisoner I My hand has one gesture left: to push things away. From the rock dampness ...

- - Bamboo in Winter Wind blurs the bamboo branches into       spinning ribbons of two-toned sage. It is a singular being with root-sta...

- - “the dreams that you dare to dream” goes the song about somewhere far enough away to be uncompromised, yet for a few minutes a d...

- - Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look. . . . . . . I won’t retain one blade ...

 - - A birth, and a death for Lister Matheson No snow, and little to speak of this warm winter; ochre moss in laced stars ...

- - I type this with one finger while James sleeps on my chest. We are at home in his apartment on his fifth day of life, with his mommy an...

- - family tree while   traveling at the speed of a car   a particle hovers in the passenger seat next to me      a neutrino of time a...

- - Lesley planting our garden 2 1/2 years ago There is the delusion of falling in love with love. My unborn grandson is a fragile being (a...

- - Red Pines Every day I drive to work and it is the same thing. Listen to two minutes of political news or economic disaster. Turn it...

- - A year in an apple Crunch into the sweet flesh, and winter snow crumbles under a black branch where the juncko lands. With the s...

- - Through the window this morning, flickering behind poplar leaves, the sun rose. Was it S.O.S. he coded? I was on the phone, but I want...