All

You ask
to have it all
you already have
the all of me
that silently whispers
I love

a mantra in my head
resting on your shoulder
my fingers tracing words
on your chest
that spell out
stay, be mine.

Homeland

You say
lay down
tell me your needs
two beautiful lines
that perfectly illustrate
what had been missing

until you
held me
the world stilled
and I stopped spinning
finally resting
on solid ground.

Reparations

Some things never change
people are who they are
at their core
it is only now
past the mid-point of life
that we question
past actions
and hard consequence
wonder if paths chosen
led us too far astray
or to exactly where
we were meant to be
all along.

We ask those
we have hurt
for forgiveness
sometimes granted
often withheld
it is up to us
to put our demons
to final rest
like recalcitrant children
with tenderness
lest they rise
and consume
our souls.

Is it selfish
to ask another
to excuse
past transgressions?
One more instance
of taking
rather than giving?
An attempt to soothe
the raw ache
consuming our bones
knowing
we've done another
an injustice?

Best to absolve
exonerate the guilty
set us all free
to hold pain
overfills the vessel
perpetrator and victim
awash in the same
liquid shame
spill this sorrow
out into the world
let it become
a drop
in the vast ocean.

Sun

All I've known
of love
has been bound
by duty, expectation
filaments of need

golden moments
of being
recognized
a rare flicker
in the darkness.

I sought
a nameless place
where one could
defy the laws
of gravity

held captive
simply
by the radiance
of a rising sun
between us.

Yearning

Songs and poems
jars of jam
offered up
like jewels
obscure allusions
of longing
for love

we hide
the truth
behind gestures
and cryptic brail
scratches on walls
our lonely hearts
cannot decipher.

Quiet

The quiet river
whispers
undulating
in its fertile bed
the smooth current
barely a ripple
on transparent silk
spread softly over
algae-draped rocks.

The wind rises
alder leaves bare
silver bellies
to the sun's welcome
blessing
as I count mine
they are many
for I have learned
the value of gratitude.

Fighting what is
leads nowhere
it does not matter
which eddy
pulls me to shore
I have let go
control, an illusion
held beyond all reason
fear, time wasted.

Better to be the leaf
weightlessly floating
then drawn below
caressing stones
worn smooth by time
rising again
to glide unresisting
on the gilded light
of evening.

Statewide

This road trip sours
with each tire rotation
through the Walla Walla valley
dressed in verdant silk,
past the pulp mill billowing
noxious clouds into the air,
on the wide sweep of freeway
embracing the Tri Cities sprawl,
during the slow cruise-control glide
past Yakima's ubiquitous troopers,
rising to the desolate sage
wasteland of the Army Firing Range.

Miles accumulate
on my soul and heart,
even Ellensburg unfolding
green and lovely, rimmed
by the serrated Stuart Range,
does not dispel their weight.


The rest stop at Elk Heights
swarms with holiday travelers
unfolding stiffly from vehicles,
tottering off to pee and stretch
before continuing West,
fish-scale clouds fan out
from the front settling
on the Summit, rain
descends, accenting
the clench in my gut

brought on by a long day
spent thinking how love
may not be enough
when resolve has seized up
like one of those cheap
toy cars, over-wound
until broken.