Poetry
Poetry
The Life of Colorado
Arches carved by nature’s knife Bluebells bursting into life Columbines the bloom of state Deer tracks cloven hooves create Elk herd standing tall with pride Fox pups posting side by side Ghost town eerie without sound Hay bales scattered on the ground Icicles sharp as frozen quills Jagged mountain hiking
Gwynne
for Gwynne Stolle in loving memory In her garden, as in mine, the earth is let be earth, and flowers grow where flowers will, not where she wills them to. In her garden, as in mine, light falls through the green it’s made, softened, dappling everything below it, even me and the dogs. In her
Ornithology
People remember Charlie Parker Rode into Minton’s on a horse Dressed in overhauls Lip drooping a piece of straw. People remember Charlie Parker Hocking his alto for a fix Living just anywhere Raving out of control down a rainy street. People remember Charlie Parker Worked with the higher extensions Of the chords, worked with strange
Ike’s Moebian Putting
He leans against an invisible wall upright, his head cocked lawnward. It is Ike standing over the ball Patient, his knickers immaculately laundered. He lets his wrists do the work. The arc of the putter’s head is minimal. He never presses or jerks. His putting style is inimitable. His haberdashery has reverted to that of
Garden Constellations
The yard looks still. Winds riffle green-coin leaves, slim white-preened bark. Sage blooms rust and scratch, each purple nodule at last breaking in breeze to settle in a riverstone crevice. Pale roses wilt. Ridges curl, brown-strafed. Below, roots mottle and twist, an endless lurching and creeping through undersoil. Ants hustle through flagstone fissures, scream a
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Novels and Collected Works
The Life of Colorado
Arches carved by nature’s knife Bluebells bursting into life Columbines the bloom of state Deer tracks cloven hooves create Elk herd standing tall with pride Fox pups posting side by side Ghost town eerie without sound Hay bales scattered on the ground Icicles sharp as frozen quills Jagged mountain hiking
Gwynne
for Gwynne Stolle in loving memory In her garden, as in mine, the earth is let be earth, and flowers grow where flowers will, not where she wills them to. In her garden, as in mine, light falls through the green it’s made, softened, dappling everything below it, even me and the dogs. In her
Ornithology
People remember Charlie Parker Rode into Minton’s on a horse Dressed in overhauls Lip drooping a piece of straw. People remember Charlie Parker Hocking his alto for a fix Living just anywhere Raving out of control down a rainy street. People remember Charlie Parker Worked with the higher extensions Of the chords, worked with strange
Ike’s Moebian Putting
He leans against an invisible wall upright, his head cocked lawnward. It is Ike standing over the ball Patient, his knickers immaculately laundered. He lets his wrists do the work. The arc of the putter’s head is minimal. He never presses or jerks. His putting style is inimitable. His haberdashery has reverted to that of
Garden Constellations
The yard looks still. Winds riffle green-coin leaves, slim white-preened bark. Sage blooms rust and scratch, each purple nodule at last breaking in breeze to settle in a riverstone crevice. Pale roses wilt. Ridges curl, brown-strafed. Below, roots mottle and twist, an endless lurching and creeping through undersoil. Ants hustle through flagstone fissures, scream a