if he only looked out at the world, forgot all this nonsense.
it is what we make it. he said ‘ ” the things we think are
worries now”, as discussed with the boy.
not yet published.
some times gone
in days, while some things take longer.
yet as with things, all of them pass . yet at that moment
of worry, it is often hard to remember. open the window.
it was a long and wrangled night.
the boy suggests that one should not be mean to others.
the boy has glasses.
published in Outlaw Poetry , as part of the Anna Saga.
i sought the quiet places,
to find dark angel
i found them all,
saints, no faces,
angels, broken, worn,
and the splendidity
of altar traces.
i sat an hour
looking at the tree,
and came home here
published in Outlaw Poetry, as part of the Anna Saga
bind me into being. anna, why are you a prophetess.
I am not religious
gently go forward, then gently back
recreating past deeds and misdemenours
you thought forgotten.
gently go forward knowing we are mostly
all the same, with motes not spoken of,
gently it passed behind you, seen
clearly while looking for god.
gently gather winter leaves to keep
in paper bags. these are the golden