Tag Archives: photography


calamity in the forest

when the owls alight in the high

shade of cedars to look

they are so unpopular with locals

who protest in every key relentlessly

maybe it’s the air of owl superiority

or the sleepy lidded glances of disdain

maybe it’s imagined owl oblivion—

new roses nod keeping graceful time

with soft summer wind

heads lowered in grave solidarity

there is a grand noise in the forest today

I can hear bird rage breaking through

even the cacophony of my thoughts

maybe i ought feel some gratitude

for the distraction🪶


No one sits out here in this season

I heard them say

I am no one then as here I am

or maybe all this space is cool illusion

There was no sound on exit but birdsong

water dripping from places unseen

a canine barking in the distance

car wheels on a highway going north or south

Late afternoon the sun announces day’s slow denouement

I sip old wine that ought be poured out

remove my glasses so the view is softened

Through the veil of birch and poplar what is there

to see but layers of more birch and poplar half dressed

for possibility, a subdued anticipation

Someone will need to shovel the dog shit away from

the summer lawns awakening soon

Winter snow is such temporary camouflage🪶

February 24

Ukraine Ukraine Ukraine

Courage still standing stained with sorrow

Peaceful world citizens reflect humanity

weary of destruction violence war

One moment hour day one year too long

Distant bells are ringing with your song

Spirits of the dead perpetual echo choir

They paint the future in our skies

Sow seeds of new hope in bloodless fields

Dreams of fearless children free to walk

quiet streets to peaceful galleries once more

All knowing well their song of desire

resounding in every language every mind

Why war must still be a question when

Peace flags fly our all universal answer🪶

Nine Oh Three

Here, a room

a floor bed near a window

On, a radio

a cacophony of voices down low

A glass of red

A notebook and pen

A resting nest

An introspection

A pack of we’ll see

A lamp to illumine

A night vision

A solo tour

A hovering

A view of two tall winter trees

A crosshatch sky

An obscured moon

On the wall, a clock

An hour and minute

An absence and presence

A ritual

A candle flame

A flickering reflection

A faraway

A song sung


Nine oh three

Nine oh three

Nine oh three

The Riders

We are behind our masks

but recognize humanity next to us

Eyes tell stories, sagas and series in shades

darkness makes reading more difficult

She asks me which number

I’m waiting for so I awaken to focus

We are travellers here and back

drawn to stand together in this littered space

I read the graffiti yesterday

or the day before but tonight I read it again

Which number are you waiting for

the woman asks as if I know

I listen to her story as stories needs telling

maybe it’s worse or better

I listen for hints of breakdown or sorrow

but she is factual despite

Tomorrow she will ride again she says

ride every day for eternity and her grandson

We are the riders of the bus

grateful for mundane recurring schedules

We are the quiet constant vigil keepers

careful not to wish for a break in the pattern