my philosophy of bacon

fry it
in a tall, deep pot
so it doesn’t spit
too much.

also: life.
go deep.
stir often.



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Poetry Hiatus


Give me something I can use,
some radiant blues and a matching
breeze, something besides this
river of bones, word stones
longing for sharper teeth.

Save me from these distant shallows,
the mask that swallows up
the rest of what I am; the cold
collapse of lung and pause
and breath, the death

of a vivid life inhaled from
all sides. Let me slide along
this sacred moon
-spilled track, get back to an
emerging sky, full reeled and
revealed by greater gifts than mine.



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soon shine

Screenshot 2015-07-22 18.54.23

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eyes and arms and heart wide open

(the vigilance of stars)




i think we might just
have something here, lost
in all this blue. do you
remember the way the
earth swelled when you
smiled? the wild heart
abandon of that breeze?
i’ll ask the trees to stay;
they may connect the dots
…..for us,
give Orion back his belt
………and a tie to match.

these aspens have their
own alarms, some violent
charms with which to
sway the eve. Be
-lieve me when i say
we’re wide awake and
………for the dream.



Written for Poetic Asides.



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rumbled sky

FullSizeRender 9..

and i
savor your thunderous
song, the way you make
music of everything,
nothing. the way the
clouds play along.


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blue, by you.


this poem is a lake.

it takes its colors from the sky
breathes fire and spills itself
at sunset. It has yet
to hold itself fully at bay,
sways with the breeze.

this poem tenders trees
and timbres song.
it puffs its pink cheeks
out, waves its own skin
and begins again
another day.

this poem plays
along the sand, holds hands
with wandering
shore. this poem

holds more
than its own blue
tears, its sacred years of spilling
song. this poem longs

for its Creator,
a greater dance,
a worship stance
that pleases its
prosaic trance.

this poem is a second








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when Heaven sneezes,



T a h o e
….………………………………………b   r   e   e   z   e   s.


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