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

Without Witness (excerpt)

Bright is the day on the other side of the shade. Uneasy

is my back against the pillow. Leftover tension
from the week of what didn’t or couldn’t. Last night
I visited a museum hung with photographs of not people

but the possessions they owned, writing desk

whittled low from use, buttons on the poet’s dress

as if sanded from fondling.

He will come down the hall shortly to hang his coat up

He moves plates around now in their cabinets, unable

to let them remain idle, draining water in repose.
I tense in anticipation while in fact he may lean over

and lightly press his lips to my neck.

Pilgrimage: 8 of 52: Suddenly

colors are brighter
the lingering chill is welcomed not
feared
the afternoon light lingers warms
sighs in the plain bed where you made me
yours then left

Melt

Hesitation takes me
to hiding the tumble
rock/pearl of security
rolled (temporarily,
one hopes) inside
snow's runoff melt

My eyes 
begin again
to spy the signs
in the least
obvious places

Pilgrimage: Seven Weeks: Spring

hesitation
in the moment of camellias
in the hour of roses
in the day of robins
the warm sun bright
yet hesitation
I do not say au revoir
I do not say renascence
I do not say Spring

Pilgrimage: Week 6: Opening

it's cold and clear
the air washed clean after the rain
the sun pretends to warm the avenue
I shiver under a light jacket
thinking about l'amour et le morte
sadness loss decline endings
then I'm caught by the rose
thorns petals and fragrance
twisting me open
like a Spring

Pilgrimage: Footsteps Day 5: Busking

the squeezebox sound floats
across the street
this Friday everything
new month just begun
warm sun hot coffee
Paris afternoon