Pilgrimage: #37: Plumb Line

One tool to grip

and one more to measure

I learn (again) how agile

the patient, practiced hands

Insulation against the scald

and a barrel to catch

broken pieces

Pilgrimage: 38 Days: Fighting The Waves

each mouthful of saltwater
almost delicious
redolent of dying weeds
and city runoff
weighs me down a little more
never a strong swimmer
and the shore is receding
I'm tiring with the effort
to bring myself safely home

Pilgrimage: Thirty-Seven Days: What The Eye

what the eye sees
the mind turns into
thought
measure
line
what the eye sees

Pilgrimage: Could It Be 36?: Café Society

here on the left coast
we sit outside in crystal afternoons
dark espresso in paper cups
green enameled tables
cover

#36 Pilgrim Hearing

In this man's house

the poets gather.

Small bites on glass

plates for all.

Black olive dip with

garlic and lemon

tart wedges.

Once a prayerful

bell was rung.

The room swayed

as even non-believers

felt the sonnets of

the night nibble

at their ears

Pilgrimage #35: What We See in the Window

In the window the reminder

of simplicity, the accent on

wrist to palm to prayer

Trinkets of bead

and forehead of humility

We dined together this morning

We are sewn together

Pilgrimage: #35: Vermeer

He studied light
on pearls or the blue jacket
Mesmerized by the soft sheen on skin
or the concentration of a letter
He never walked through Santa Fe
in late Summer
Nor saw the clear blue light
that flows into adobe rooms
The light! The light that slowly
leaves a honeyed glow

thirty four: Pilgrimage through

To expose

is to know

the structures

that bind and

hold the motion

of the man who

wishes to reveal

his need for

walls and

to be exposed

is not the choice

of man yet

we knock our

hands against

what is solid

and feel our way

back through

Pilgrimage: Thirty Plus Four: Scaffold

Scaffold, a photo by vajra on Flickr.

what we hold
what we hold up
what we hold on to
where we rest
where we build up
where we build on to
bones
earth
steel
grass and bamboo
who we hold
who we hold up
who we hold on to

Pilgrimage: Industry (#33)

There are times

the work rises

from the land

as sculpture

made of

many hands

We cannot

carry it

anywhere

but into

happy

industry

left behind

Pilgrimage: #33: Official

wherever we go
we take our work
and worries with us
in the café we stare endlessly
at screens and papers
in our beds we lie
restlessly
our phones beside us
we follow orders
or await them
in the office which goes
wherever we go