How long
since last we touched?
Silence cuts through time
as rock splits water
The seamount binds
the traces of clamorous tides
The ocean swells and spawns
a standing wave
Its cry,
a protest
Why was I born?
lost in a wilderness of silence
Silence is presence
an absence which defines all
the trace of that felt
a stream, a marsh, mist – no horizon.
photo by Saki Cake
Point Lobos is corridors of granite,
Tumble back spurs
Echoes of ancient coast, water worn and water drowned
Granite spines, marked by tree root and tourist feet . . .
Somewhere in the Arizona desert, I pull the white whale to a crunching stop on a patch of roadside dirt, on the crest of a small hill, north of Paulden Arizona.
“What are we doing out here?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Hey! What’s going on?”
“Stars,” I say. “We have stopped to see the stars.”
It’s funny
That which you can see and that which you cannot
A dog chasing a girl on the beach
A small bird, gray shot with blue, alights on a pine branch. She lands, looks left then right, spies a small beetle […]
