threat or gift

threat or gift




a network within–


insect under

leaf roof


vine house, narrow



hard wings, held closed

to not now the time


now none


there is plant






sense-waves of threat,

or gift




index iv.

index iv.


relationship of two

vanishing points when a person looks

directly toward the center of a room


location and characters



when two persons look directly

toward the center of a room

may be unified in scale

and hour


but not to endure, a location

where imitable habits of grandparents

that to live, are no longer


the new picture requires

rearrangement of vanishing points

minus a referent


requires a diet

of the next

favorite show

of salt, newsprint,

apple juice, a slice of Wonder


time passes quickly, for an eternity


on its side, a shelter can be decorated

with bricks for furniture, inside, strings for a guitar,

a table with removable segments,

a partial collection of puzzles and card games


layers of carpet and red brick,

formica, hand sewn fabrics,

wires behind drywall, and a roof

joins the house

to the sky


the area outside the frame

viewed with the so-called corner of the eye,

as an entity in itself








index iii.

index iii.


high mountain lake

more air

than earth


at surface, bright edges


continual rhythm


stand still, adjust

the rhythm



in elevated states




dark matter

is not dark,





window to invisible



sky inverse


a dream where weightless

matter trickles

through cupped hands

index ii.

index ii.


weighted clouds

intersect morning


the will

weights them


abrupt relation

between earth’s


and the willpower

contained in a house


the day continues

to root


a corrugated

metal sheet

functions as barrier

and mirror between



at the edge of



the neighbor’s

pallet collection

tidy and tethered


infinite layers

of projects and insects


all possible projects

dream in the sun

at this new hour


an infinite wellspring

of property and projects

of metal mirror walls

of pallets, weeds and chickens

of neighbors with projects


a pile of car parts

a metal container

“this end up”


whether to believe—an old house

accumulates debris


walls form voices

finger prints

cloud weight


to believe


the attractive substance

of a house




index i.

index i.


to lay claim



one thousand entrance points

to the honeycombed wood

upright, in the sand, now

that the green rind

has died




a hallowed question—

what keeps us here?

flat roots



build a fence to mitigate

extreme area



even one millimeter of movement

the sand grains


over time, the foothold






through latillas–

face to the gap

air pushes through


of a secret



the barrier eternal

with an open place


remember this











a new house, empty

a dry willow



(it was days ago, I think—


five coyotes








we may take our relationships

too seriously—


a jet flies overhead,


detached, landless.



a whirling


air through the honeycomb,


or voices,

of thousands

who were here and wait.





cholla remnant

pulled from a trail

at high elevation, black

and wet with snow.


bones’ latent vigor–

decoration, an oddity





Note: latillas—are what we call fencing which are cut from young trees, here in New Mexico, with the bark left on the pole. They provide a textured fence line with an uneven skyline.They are all different heights and not perfectly straight. But, they are truly enjoyable to poets and New Mexicans.

A cholla is an upright, narrow cactus that grows throughout New Mexico and produces beautiful waxy flowers (cacti throw forth waxy, bright yellow or fuscia flowers). When the cholla cactus dessicates, the remaining material is woody, and hollow, with a honeycombed pattern.





on the southside

of the road,

butterflies breed


risk whether,

or not


parallel to breathing


the same force

within the mountain

pushes out a wild



molecules glide

around one another


an indistinct breeze


ribs expand


the moment

is an open figure

that repeats


(a horse tosses its head,

kicks into the air,

the thread continues

to unwind







temperature outside

neutral to the touch



lose subtlety

to the season when wind

exposes each grain of sand



away from an incident


nests in the body

now the arbiter


truth be told


if only


other windows




wish you would say something.


alone, city street



before dawn,


hot air balloons






freed from the map









dawn light at ease

in the bedrock


the conjunction

very little sleep





night and language,

a symbol disappeared into

liquid depths,

neck broke


now ankle-deep, walks

from the flooded field





the length of a bird’s



numbers become







in the old tree





grey wooden fence

two Canada geese

wire and brick through peeled stucco

yellow weed in the sidewalk

storm-sky through wires

no sign




news of a murder

on tv—

invisible forces.


Within a constellation,

imperceptible movement.


An alarm




The vertebral body










The Public Domain Review

Creative Life through Poetry, Philosophy, Art, and Literature

Muddling Through My Middle Age

Definitely older, possibly wiser....

Sketching :: Drawing from Observation

Painting to See :: Peindre pour voir

Bluebird Blvd.

Because bluebirds are so darned happy. Supposedly.