Countdown: #5, Mushrooms I Have Known


My last five posts of 2017 are reruns of five of the most viewed posts on this site during the year. I was surprised and pleased to find this one made the list.


Mushrooms I Have Known

Reticent and tired, withdrawn,
dejected, I return.

Emerging overnight from nothing,
then withering back to zero.

Does light incite you?
The shade?

I walk by and say hello.
You do not speak.

Palinode (soubasse)



Palinode (soubasse)

In the land of two-dollar mornings, those things
we barely sense take precedence: uncaressed
skin sheathed in ivy, the punctuation mark diverting
power. Insidious corn, the cries of distressed trees
(cavitation in the xylem), soubasse, the ghost note,
prickling from below. Singularity. The appointee’s
hubris. The defining weight of a zero’s center.

A zero’s center defines emptiness, meaning nothing,
or, diverted light, a vacuum. Regard plenum: an air-filled
space, or a complete gathering of a legislative body. And
how did we arrive here from there? From the body we
compose units of measure: an ell, digit, fathom, the mile’s
thousand paces. I expose film to light, concealing yet
establishing a rational point.

Concealing the point implies position without extension,
a moment shedding its cracked sheath and giving rise
to the divine: above, below, male and female, hot or
cold. Reconciliation. A plateau. The still place linking the
infinite to the open hand, limitless black. Burning, I
calculate oxidation and dispersal, tendrils, a flaxen leaf,
its proposition to endings.


This first appeared, in slightly different form, in ditch, in January 2014, and was posted here in September 2016..



Poem Featured at The Clearing


My poem “Prescribed” is one of three featured at The Clearing, a British online magazine focusing on landscape. I’m thrilled to have a piece  included. Thanks to editor Michael Malay for taking this one.

Wet Grass, Weeds


Wet Grass, Weeds

A lone raven
circling the neighbor’s oak,

an oddity in this neighborhood,

lending mystery to the afternoon,
a gateway through dandelion

fluff and the blue seeping through clouds.
A car rumbles by,
stereo hammering the air,

warnings everywhere for the wary.


“Wet Grass, Weeds” first appeared here in May 2016.




where you go
the wind follows
as if no

choice remains but
that of sun
and oak an

attraction such that
limbs curve to
light a certainty

which cautions us
to intrude lest
we lose all

sight and sense
of beauty you
are this tree

A Walk Through the Live Oaks

Written in the 80s, “Tree” first appeared here in December 2014.

Let It Remain


Let It Remain

Comfort of name,
of pleasure

freshened in
repetition, unformed

pears falling, and
the mockingbird’s

to complete

another’s song.
I will take no

from this day

but let it remain
here in the knowing,

in the tyranny
of the absolute

and its enforced
rhythm desiring

both flight and

the ecstasy
of fruit grown full.


“Let It Remain” first appeared here in September 2015.