Book Spine Poetry: Suspect Terrain

A taste for travel,
     undaunted courage,
          a beautiful mind.
How to lie with maps?
     The other path, where on earth?
          In suspect terrain:
               complexity, chaos, the places that scare you.
I've been gone far too long;
     I should have stayed home...
          coming home crazy.

Book Spine Poetry: Hard Rain

Does the weather really matter?
The Great Deluge: rising tide --
high water at Catfish Bend,
lanterns on the levee:
goodbye to a river.

Book Spine Poetry: Femme Fatale

The Duke of Deception, the Knight, the Lady, and the Priest:
parallel lives, the archetype of pilgrimage -- a Byzantine journey.
Women, fire, and dangerous things -- the Silk Roads, secrets
of the flesh...
the unknown shore, the far side of the world.

Trumpeter Swans

Boreas, endings and beginnings

It's the End of the World As We Know It, And I Feel Fine

In consideration of the end of the Mayan calendar, I've come up with my proposal for a thirteen-month calendar.  It begins in September (in our current calendar), because that of year has always felt like the real beginning of the year for me.

 



Bernoulli's Principle

Motion is zero
where opposing flows collide:
pressure is highest.

This hope: in roaring
currents, find the still place -- no
point of stagnation --

the stable toehold
for acts of courage or
love or persistence.