Sunday, July 30, 2017


It's not the bird, it's the sea.
It's not the sea, it's the wind
or lack thereof.
It's the way the bird
is always there
when the wind is not.
It's the way the sea
refuses to move
which makes us bitter.
And the bird is totem
for the fate we claim
controls us. The stillness
we fear and the first breath
of air it rises to meet
and announce. Which,
for all we know,
may be the last
we will ever know.

Sunday, July 2, 2017


Boat upside down
on the shore
like a house
tilting to the east.
Light enters it
like a thief
or a poor man
carrying a statue
of the baby Jesus
wrapped in an old raincoat.
This story is a thousand years old
but is being told for the first time