ravens

i am an alien
i do not know your language
i am not sure if you know mine

you are a raven
you offer me stones and twigs
you accept my coins and twine

here i play amongst
dove, quail, and sundry wrens
wingless alien
in this winged world

and along come you
my corvid friends
bearing yellow whiffles

half pi inches
the size of finches
little holey golf balls

two of you today
the bigger more familiar
each beak the balls to me

they roll across the flagstone
and stop beside my knees
i stare with dumbness in my eyes

the smaller points
with beaky index
at me and then the balls

i reach out my hand
get a kaw as reprimand
so i withdraw my non-wing

you fetch a twig and drop it
then you swoosh your wing
you fly-hop to my loppers

then retreat back to your friend
i grab my pruning loppers
and stand beside the balls

i don’t own proper golf clubs
i am bad at mini golf
but ravens have commanded

i swing my garden tool
and miss my first whiff
the ravens laugh at me

i take another swing
the first ball skitters off
and stops amongst some weeds

kaw Kaw the pair cheers
then both point with beaks
for me to try again

i shuffle my feet like a pro
i am a pet of big-beaked crows
i glance my mark and take my swing

the ball sails through the air
and hits an unsuspecting tree
scurry-hoot a family of quail

you ravens do not say a word
but fly off to bring the balls back
and beak-roll them to me

we play another round of golf
both the balls fly over the wall
you let out a cheery kaw-kaw

i set two coins upon the stones
one of you signs to the other
who flies off as you nudge the coins

you signal to me
i know not what
maybe you want one more

i pull out a quarter
and flip it in the air
i catch it and show tails

you nod your beak twice
so i flip it again
this time it comes up heads

your spread your wings
and it scares me a bit
but then you tap the other coins

i flip the quarter again
and set it down on the stone
only then do I finally see

my quarter doesn’t have
two faces: heads and tails
it has human and eagle

this time i flipped the bird
which is what the raven
seems to have wanted

you spread your wings
and looked like an eagle
black and indigo

your partner flew back
and dropped two dice
the numbers came up nice

you exchanged cute kaws
with beaky jaws
then gave me pause

the dice roller spread its wings
like the eagle on the quarter
the other kawed in glee

but then you tell me something
and you both tell me again
because I do not understand

i am an alien
i do not know your language
but i start to get a clue

i pick up the dice
a d-twelve and a d-twenty
i give them a shake

but i blow on the dice
then shake with both hands
and put on a show

i gently roll them toward you
you step forward to inspect
then step back and give two nods

a four and an eight
do not impress
the raven duo

so i roll again
and again you nod
and again i roll

nine more times i roll
until eleven and eleven
and then you spread your wings

and the kaw-kaws you gave
shall warm my heart
but i still don’t know your names

treetalk

trees don’t need to talk
because the trees
speak for the breeze

mouthpieces of the wind
a creaking of their limbs
a rustling of their leaves

trees also speak
in subtle tones
with cellulose bones

as birds dance
and tree cats prance
within tree limbs

wood fiber resonates
rhythms of claw and paw
trees echo like drums

trees don’t need to speak
beyond the echo and creak
because their words can sneak

trees silently sign in air
whispering pheromones
beyond mere tones

trees signal underground
a nibble on their shoots
sends a rustle in their roots

root tendrils trigger
mycorrhizal couriers
underground scurriers

rallying the tree troops
through this under hinternet
across the forest hinterland

trees don’t need to walk
because the bees come to them
to visit each flower stem

trees remain in park
happy in their bark
as others fly, crawl, and walk

flocking ‘round the trees
coming and going as they please
playing at trees’ knees

if trees walked around
would they make a sound
ah, but to one place they’re bound

communing with their soil
trading with the fungal net
slow arboreal tree time toil

but these steadfast teachers
are the bestest reachers
beyond their roots and leaves

they summon birds and insects
call out to lizards and furries
trees reach both worms and snails

trees inspire poem and song
for their shade many long
to rest beneath their branches strong

in their slow patient tree time way
summon many to play or stay
and teach the steadfast how to sway

trees teach nightingales to sing
they teach parrots how to squawk
and chickens how to talk

bison on the beach

land of the Ute and antelope
bejeweled by pi’a-pa lake
with many a salty beach
prospectors found this island
brought a bevy of bison
to this highland sea of salt

in endorheic sink of salt
this mountain for antelope
became breeding ground of bison
within briny ti’tsa-pa lake
isolation of this island
welcomed bison to the beach

grasslands reached to the beach
fed by forty springs free of salt
ancient mountain of this island
allowed grazing antelope
solace with views of the lake
peaceful partnership with bison

this growing herd of bison
would frolic on the beach
protected by this great lake
and shallow flats of salt
shared with sheep and antelope
on this idyllic island

though named antelope island
the teeming flock of bison
outnumbered the antelope
and bison took the beach
hooves kicking up the salt
splashing on shores of the lake

within ti’tsa-pa or pi’a-pa lake
the biggest oldest island
rimmed with a ring of salt
host parties of great bison
galavanting across the beach
rememb’ring ghosts of antelope

flats of salt along edge of lake
bronze antelope, guards the island
herd of bison dance on the beach

hemispheres

the rainbow spans the hemispheres
adding color when days and time
are measured with digital gears

the sun rises on the picket line
a solstice or a birthday
these boots march the meridian line

the day is born of steadfast toil
each precious moment of life
the great burn the midnight oil

one foot in the east, one in west
our spectrum of lives thrives
when in the wise we invest

oh the foolish thrift of days
when the sun still rises
yet we whittle their pay away

yet with the pride of measured years
we defend the just and the rust
until the polished and dull hears

with the marking of time and tears
we start to see in panchromatic
with great strides this pride steers

the rainbow spans the hemispheres
so unified we may strive
so halls and hearts be filled with cheers

garden

when my day is overbrained
from three hundred topics explained
when i’ve poured out my souls
to help others build shoals
i must withdraw inside my shells
before cumulative chaos swells

i have a secret garden
the sands of time can’t harden
the birds flit about their trees
they come and go as they please
insects fly by or slowly creep
it gives my tea time to steep

i listen to the songs
sung by countless throngs
they carry me on their wings
to solace that it brings
like i have been sonically hugged
they plug me into the unplugged

within this secret garden
i receive an evening’s pardon
from the buzzing of the tech
and the many-splendored mech
enhancing people’ talents
requires a little balance

greens, browns, and grays grow
wispy whites in blue sky flow
these creatures make a thousand choices
among these to share their voices
colors imbue the viewscape
sounds infuse the soundscape

this is where i go
to remember the flow
that hides beneath the surface
and fuels the inner purpose
to connect with the outside
in this garden i abide

watchful

some people carry a pocket watch
some guy kept his close to his crotch
some keep a watch inside their purse
some look at their watch and curse

some people have one watch all their life
like a time husband or time wife
a monochronometric relation
for some a watch is like a flirtation

whether joy or strife
the times of my life
are marked by watches
in splashes and splotches

is there little alignment
or triggered remindment
‘tween what i wore on my wrists
and my episodic plot twists

or do the characters i display
reflect my inner life’s play
who i truly am or portray
i wonder if the wrist can say

i wore a face with mickey mouse
in a ticking little house
his hands spun all around
as mouse gears made a sound

with band red white and blue
and finger pointing at you
my watch with uncle sam
had bold black arrow hands

with still strong sentiments
i wore a texas instruments
seventies red LED segments
marched me through regiments

but when it lost its band
in the hourglass of sand
i turned the scarab time locket
into a timepiece for my pocket

a calculator for a wrist
oh casio, how could i resist
it came with a little game
and some tiny teenage fame

in the days of swampland fair
i sported a vintage papa bear
passed down through generations
caused no great sensations

perhaps my greatest watch regret
was seiko, never needed set
a gift from my other pop
broken. ah, forever could stop

i felt it had just been loaned to me
as time marched on i turned to flee
a classic metal band and shell
with seiko’s stillness silence fell

my first twenty-four hour dial
in swatch simplistic style
found at paramus mall
when at a port of call

it made me crave the breitling
whose price was truly frightening
i never got a cosmonaute
the swatch was all i bought

i ticked through several timex
the tried and true of time specs
a white from chicago airport
to heidelberg i did report

i replaced it with black
at a goodfellow shack
then that was yet anothered
when the ironman was smothered

what face through wristbound window
adds such many functioned glow
apple watch first generation
a tethered emanation

composing poems in the shower
felt like such an awesome power
too many times telling siri
these missives made her bleary

i brought the scarab back to life
with much time and a little rice
but then every other line
wasn’t interlaced so fine

so i went back a casio
the basic analog rodeo
quartz movement drifts a bit
but I’m really quite fine with it

twenty bucks at first brand new
a tad better than dollar store brew
i’ve replaced the band once too
and a battery or two

i wore one watch on my ankle
not knowing who it would rankle
and strapped a nano for a while
before the headphones cramped my style

one watch worn on each arm
in different timezone charm
added quick perspective
without math interjected

however you tell time
and whatever you tell time
it doesn’t always listen
but at least a wrist can glisten

precious windows

i slowly shut the shutters
of this pair of precious windows
a grey glow still shows
as my mind mutters

latent fluctuations
flutter like the wind
as if shutters could rescind
eternal emanations

i close the curtains
and this room goes dark
shift this vehicle into park
so i can enjoy the gardens

then the colors come
sweep the gray away
they swirl and play
upon my soul they strum

what do i see when i close my eyes
this pair of precious windows
past which the world flows
sometimes clear, sometimes in disguise

i ride the tide of inner light
the sea of colors invades
in my consciousness pervades
patterns burgeon with delight

after some time, images appear
coming and going like the tide
conjured up from somewhere inside
some seem far, others near

within these precious windows
when i close my outer eyes
the waves fall and rise
as the inner world flows

treasure

a book by any measure
is a map to hidden treasure
for business and for pleasure
the test of time to weather

once inside the cover
whole worlds hide
for you to discover
on a reader’s ride

judge not by its spine
thick or thin may be fine
for the beauty in the binding
lay in what you are finding

each reader is unique
take a listen, feel, or peek
story is not just words on the page
you bring yourself to the book’s stage

into words are woven
journeys of treasure trovin’
you become every actor
your mind the director

once you’re hooked
your life is booked
a book by any measure
is a map to hidden treasure

liminal

each island is a trinity
of earth and air and sea
and birds are their devotees
who worship as they please

within river, lake, or ocean
by lava, fault, or erosion
an island rises from its bed
through water to air to peek its head

an island is not merely
a knoll or hill or mountain
but one of those who dearly
became an earthy fountain

not content to stop its ascent
or remain more resistant
to weathering and erosion
it is neither shoal nor seamount

into the air for more to share
beneath the surface for those there
into the air for birds to land
and air breathers to make a stand

an island has many faces
water to water interfaces
where stream meets tide
estuaries provide

shrub and tree pair earth and air
consume water with roots like hair
creatures across the surface dance
but with water retain romance

birds are born upon the earth
even perched in lofty berth
many reach into the sky
yet touch both surface wet and dry

fish and other submarines
may dwell deep from sky unseen
yet some cling close to shore
flirting with land evermore

all dwell in margins liminal
in interstitial liveable
the inbetweens and edges
betwixt realms like wedges

each island is a trinity
of earth and air and sea
and birds are their devotees
who worship as they please

is a lotus an island?
living ephemeral end
rising from muddy bed
through shallows to petaled head

and are you as a bee
on a flower-hopping spree
who dwells in margins liminal
making this existence liveable

anahata

the silent storm
becomes the norm

though not by choice
it finds a voice

though it makes no sound
it can still be found

with some practice
have they cracked us

it isn’t just beneath a fig
or when you wear a wig

you don’t need a faraday cage
to quiet the incessant rage

within the madding crowd
silence dons its shroud

and yet as sure as clouds
the silence speaks aloud

the unstruck bell
still finds its knell

these words with which i’ve romped
were written with no prompt