Beneath the snowy mantel cold and clean

The unborn grass is waiting for its summer coat of green

The snowbird sings the song he always sings

And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.

When I was young my heart was young then too…

I am drawn to travel in this

Chaos, confusion,

Dizziness and instability.

I vowed to keep my balance…

Miss Fancy Pants, saucy lady,

you look so smug,

but you only go for small prey:

moles, voles, mice.

I run with the big dogs…

I will hold you in my hands

Raise claws against monsters

You are safe within my dream

I see you

Even in my sleep I am awake…

Father - Son trip to Europe

2001

I dream of Art in Paris,

Gaudi architecture in Barcelona,

Roman ruins in Aix-en-Provence, France,

Showing Mathew where I once lived in Torino.

Mathew dreams of…

at first glance

her eyes

drew me closer

silently she spoke

as if she knew me…

The figure stands before you faceless

from a chapel-like frame,

with sets of lines in twisting coils

like plant leaves or possible ropes…

Nightmare Dreamer Speaks:

Tonight I feel gutted

he shot her

in her pale round knitted-winter-hat-framed face

then he yelled fuckin' bitch as he turned and walked away…

It was the frame I noticed first,

I have one similar that holds a photo

of my three year old mother so long ago,

another kind of flower about to bloom…

My friend my love, I see you are gutted.

Hope lost in the jetsam of a murky shore.

I, too, am stained from wounds of these times.

But look what our strong hearts reveal.

Cut open, your humanity exposed…

Rows and rows of surfer guys

playing under pastel sunset sky,

just waiting for that perfect ride—

we do what we do to feel most alive…

I never guessed our paths might cross again.

Through some quantum quirk

I recognize your 20-something face

aboard this Philly bound commuter train…

I awoke unmoored in time

I'd lost synchronicity

like a film, with mouths moving

but voices lagging behind…

Just returning from three days on the coast

tide pooling and whale watching

with a marine biologist,

examining the tiniest of creatures…

When we were wolves

We waited for winter

To howl from a dark sky

Eons passed…

Time and motion stand still

The air, the mist, the light,

The solid form of a tree,

Silhouetted, blackened, denuded…

Canvas sails unfurled

all along the wharf.

Loaded to the gunwales,

a Clipper put to sea.

We left at break of dawn…

She longs to sing

The impulse is far back, behind her head

Where objections accumulate

She desires a melody, a poetry

But melancholy presides…

Bear, “There’s no sense in fighting over it. I should be at the top of the new totem pole.”

Raven, “No old friend, it’s not obvious. I am the key actor in most of our stories.”

From one thousand feet

this green patch

home to earth worms

future home to an industrious

widget maker or two…