Matin:  Dry Creek
after l.g.
Let dawn break upon the fields– let new grass
spread itself readily:
Let underground water
infuse the earth.
Permit the grey, high-hipped mares
to sate themselves
So that their dream-weary
aging ends.
Let the rotting, leaning posts last
one more year, even though there will be a forfeiture
of the symmetry of fence and sky.
Let there be foxes, and food for them.
Let all things endure
until we do not.  Let everything thrive
the purple crowns of alfalfa, the cattails in the creek
all in its season within us, life unto life,
Quickened, certain, luminous.  Rise in us
until everything flares and feeds us
so that we are again full and whole,
impassioned and yielding.

Ovum Egg Oeuvre

after d.p.


The ovum

in its membrane

its opaque casing


Traveling in secret

forming, hardening


To the porcelain bone-house

of an objet d’arte within

which the sun-gold

nucleus vibrates


The heart of the egg

with the bloodspot

becoming other

beneath a warming, feathered

weight:  its mother


Growing tendrils– thin legs,

the nubs of wings, a beak, an eye–

Breaking forth weak, wet, calling–

Replica and oeuvre.


Break of Day


The world flared up this morning

When I drove into the sun, blinded

Taking the dogs to the river

dog joy broke forth


Yes, my gilded dog plunged into surging water

To find her ball, and dashed around me

In gratitude:


This was my measure

of completion on this day:

Night and frost broken

By sunrise


At the store, marked down fresh


in pearl bright froth, replete

With the tang of the sea.