embers

embers

embers

it would be nice

not to be bent

                      like this tree

carrying the curve of the hill

the wind does it

or someone in childhood

who plants fear in our roots

it would be nice

to disappear

into a woman's heart

dancing can do it

until we call for more wine

to fuel our crowded feet

no sense wanting

what wasn't made or graced

it's just i can't help noticing

this old world growing older

heart-to-heart

heart-to-heart

heart-to-heart

it's hard

rubbing old words

to light this candle

the robed advocates

nodding at the gates

have only ashes

after all that burning

newer words

spoken crisp

by hollow men

also nodding toward

the final skins

of the poor onion

before you leave

this world of signs

wonder at the words

at hand

fisherman

fisherman

fisherman

i was the strong one

they came to me

'marry the girl' i answered

or 'don't trade with him' or

'it is what it is'

my catch was good

everyone knew him

he carpentered with his father

or wandered the wastelands

listening to desert men

who found other ways than work

that morning he stood on the rise

watching us load our nets

'come' he called

'i will make you a fisher of men'

who knows why

a man does a thing--

i followed him

for me it was never easy

listening to him cast nets of words

and things telling cannot reach

but i stood for him

even when he cautioned

i said 'i believe

i would lay down my life'

again he cautioned

i didn't know i didn't know

until the cock crow

ended the night i denied him

three times

                  like he said

weathering

weathering
                                                               

                                                                         

weathering

winter

not the one

that sullies

this new skirt

of sleepy snow

not the tired eternity

implacable and sooted

that gathers and grows

until every day-to-day

is minnesota weary

where the alter

of my fire

and sacrament

of flavored poets

no longer hides

the durable testing

of this season
has arrived
                  again

terra cognito

terra cognito

terra cognito

if it be true

that all conventions

of mind and heart

also are present

                         so what

so what

the marks of time's embrace

scar and mold and count

the pages of the years

could beauty be drawn

any else

             where

woman is marvelous

                               a man

can point or say a tallish thing

while she

              alone in the wild creation

mirrors the worth of a hand

and warms and weighs

so that comfort and ease

and color and song

enfold  unite  confirm

gardener

gardener

gardener

the expectant earth

surrendered

another row today

my back girdle-cinched

against a concert of injury

my shovel

puts strength in my arms

as the black soil peels back

worms and tiny roots

me and the yellow sun

are glad to be

ahead of the game

sitting in the swing

i hold hands with her

                               she thinks

the garden is country casual

with its chicken-wire fence

but i picture

that salvaged patio lumber

forming next year's border

and a new fence

to keep the rabbits out

the squirrels go where they go

broken

broken

broken

words are not things

like rocks and ships

that mean hard

or we sail at dawn

goodbye doesn't end

with saying

as though thought

could set the tides

we grow roots

into each other

where wither that

when dreams awake

alone across the rolling days

fine edged speech

does not mend the ache

within a clumsy heart

that dies by just that much

ghosts

ghosts

did the years open vistas

where hope found a home

or cast shadows on your yellow hair

and you, the praiser

whose talented tongue

erected walls of lies

to deeds of men

i too deserved

and you, a scalpel's darling

and you and you

echo in the mindways

fading

i wonder at star crossings

and wishing well your ways

grant memory's reprieve

that met and sundered

we finally came to shore

lady tencows

Lady Tencows

They laugh, "A woman's worth one cow."

She, halt by her father's hand

and Mawmaw's cross-eyed bull,

was, well, worth less.

Bold-tongued,

opined about the length of thatch

and how the sun peers in our hut

to make a longer day

                                 and me

more of laughter's fool.

But she can read the stars

and mix a brew to tend the night

and tether sorrows

with arms that know the length of love.

They watch her on the path,

blinking at her broad-brimmed hat,

while she,

standing at the edge of all we know,

scatters words.

                       Ten cows I gave for her.

                       Ten cows was all I had.

in the woods

in the woods

i was broke

by a bad run of cards

so barney stood for me

we shared his cabin

sitting nights sipping jack

by his wood stove

while talking the world

back into shape

we drove ourselves part crazy

laughing through

what we didn't know

about women

he'd climb the stairs to bed

while drowsy embers

danced me to the edge of sleep

clear nights

i'd take my sleeping bag

to the long porch

and lay on a bench

until i blended in

once

as i drifted

into the heavens

an old ghost owl

glided by my nose

waking me

to the sanity of stars

out there

              just like me

price of remission

price of remission

want

and wish of will

won't wash the words away

that weaken bold encampments

and leach

               love's long slanting day

drop by wanton drop

the acidic sibilance of fear

                                       distills

soul scorn from heart sworn

flooding damnation on the dear

time's weary papyrus

rolls tight behind each moving hand

and when the ink of rage is dry

it's lost again

                    you understand