all the rules of free form
dark green moss and grey lichen adorn branches above a slow river bend just below the inn’s balcony symbiotic growth much younger than the the curvy white oak bending like ancient script — pointy leaves spreading into a canopy to catch the sun — its shadow protects Boysenberry vines and bugs for the birds to … Continue reading Old Oak
A group of stellar jays alight by the worn fence. On low oak branches show stunning, dark blue feathers Their azure sharp plumed crests give point to scratchy squawks. Proud boisterous dancing hies away doves, squirrels. Continue reading The Backyard Bird-feeder
God permits industrious children to play on mud-luscious ground, rolling free and dancing, they love the feel sight sound. The marbles quiver and spin in onto themselves, flung one by one towards the pot. Nose to the ground, eyeball to eyeball. I am shooting those blue marbles straight to the moon; the marble in my … Continue reading Picking Up My Marbles
My wife . . . Hazel . . . See? She doesn’t stir from her bed. See . . . the full green moon? She sees the shine in his eye, what now? I think of Old Sam peering up at the full green moon. Standing in his bed clothes facing the clear sky over … Continue reading Old Sam
The mountain remains and the mountain reminds me. The mountain is there even when we don’t see it because of the clouds or the fog or a vapor mist and then the mountain will be there when we’re all gone. To walk to the top of the mountain is called climbing you can’t just stroll … Continue reading I Still Watch for the Mountain
Source: a new woman and her skin Continue reading a new woman and her skin
(another Stu poem) Monday morning crisp air cuts up from the lake. With my ever-stained jeans I kick the start on Putt my scooter. We scoot 5 miles down the old road as Putt’s oily gas fumes blend with early morning gravel and overgrown dewy wild grass drainage ditches. On the edge between towns passing … Continue reading Eternal Returns to Work
