Pilgrim in Day Light Dying

Swinging low, the feeder
reflecting light. 
Buds and birds on tree 
tips fleshy pink and brown.

Tomorrow we'll
resurrect the sounds
again. Severed 
from mistakes. 
Singing.

Shedding
winter. To remake
day light of
Easter. 

Pilgrimage: 13: Friday

the orangutan's sad face
peers from the screen
unsure why a camera is staring at his home
we call it a refuge
that is why we go there
the orangutan
has nowhere to go

Pilgrimage: A Dozen Weeks: First Things

I woke up slowly
a memory of pain
dulled by sleep and drugs
before my bare feet touched the wood floor
I received the gift
you sent your words
and the slight medicinal scent of lavender
blue in flower in song
what we get in sadness
and on those days when we are so joyous one slight intake of breath
will send us hurtling with silver wings
against the sky

Standing Blues

Lonely for you. Even standing
in the new Spring. Ice in the
shadows of lonely. Wind break. 
Clippers ready to trim 
the lavender back in 
the loneliness of new
Spring day without you.
Icy idle. Nothing to do
but stand in the blue.

Pilgrimage: Eleven Weeks: Slowing

the sky cold and bleak
despite the blue
a storm is coming
we hope for snow in the Sierra
and rain in Oakland
water for wildlife
and the wild aquifer
water to wash sky
and street
water to wash
the dry space in my heart

Bleeding Pilgrim

I feel the beauty fleet
sheep self doubting
under the window 
of momentary kisses
hands held for the
briefest longing 
moment extended 
until time moves us
toward the next 
press

Pilgrimage: Week 10: Destination

the cemetery
with magnolia blossoms
in pink white tulips
the delicate plum blossoms
and the silent refusal
of the dead
I walk past beauty
toward the limestone tombs

Pilgrimage: 9 Weeks: Train Stop

night trip to Berkeley
commuters crowding homeward
while I'm heading to an opera
which will turn out to be dull
and not as entertaining
as the metal plates beside the track