Pilgrimage #32

Bloom of art

I conjure you

Blood heart

stretched taut

One ideal line

of poetry at a

time finding

Blue breath

at the wrist

and in the

green throat

Bloom find

Spare me

nothing but

the stretch

Loom of art

catch fire.

Pilgrimage: Day 32: Roses

a summer with more cool days
more fog
more clouds
more breezes
roses don't have to wilt
under blistering heat
or fade
beneath an unforgiving sun
drinking in the cool gray mist
they bloom
they bloom
they bloom

Pilgrimage #31 Not a Dream

No separation between woman

and man, the cage

Oh to rest as the dancers

in their hoops pound the stage

Lo the blur and their bare feet,

their capable hands cupping

my unwilling breath

that sustains so

no separation

Pilgrimage: Pilgrimage 31: Morning

After the restless night
The battle with covers and pillows
The effort to breathe one deep breath
Morning arrives luminescent and gray
Like the center of a pearl

Sunflower

if I spin and spin
under the afternoon sky
I see Van Gogh's heart

#30 Husking/Carrying

Fathers carry sons, and

wives hoist their

husband's hearts into

their harvest arms -

the crux of an

elbow/cradle. I am

hidden behind this

picture but

I am right there

with you

1130 miles is nothing

California to

New Mexico with you

lifting every husk

carrying every one.

Pilgrimage: Week 30: Café Society

here on the left coast
we sit outside in crystal afternoons
dark espresso in paper cups
green enameled tables
covered with newspapers or cameras
dogs wait patiently
small children cling to their fathers
a leaf falls
there is nothing to do
no other place to be
except here
now

Sent from my iPhone

Pilgrimage: Another Day: Week 29: When Do We Say It's Over

there is nowhere else to go
there are no pages left to turn
all the breaths have been taken
all the bridges burned
only cul-de-sacs remaining
every voice has grown still
every leaf that grew has fallen
nothing left not even will
when this poem has been forgotten
and hearts are filled with doubt,
only ash will line the mountains
all the fires will have burnt out

Pilgrimage #29: Up in Smoke

Each sooty bottle, a mouth

Each prayer poured in, a flicker

of hope and gratitude.

To mother, for mother;

lover, and a stranger

at the side of the road.

Up in smoke the pearly issue -

stamina, forgiveness,

willingness.

Each mouth mouthing;

all pleading eyes

in a crowd.

Pilgrimage #28: Open Mind

No more waiting. We have reached

this place. Only foot traffic and

free thinking allowed.