woodblock lily


After the rains, the creek reminded us.

Swaying swiftly and covered over here and there by roads
using its passionless strength to carve grace out of mud
the solid energy of the cloudsreceding reeling

one of the earth’s billion capillaries:it spoke to us.

i thought of my childhood and the warm and hot afternoons i spent in my backyard
microcosmos it was
up to my toes ankles in mud
feeling listening squish
building dams sailing boats pieces of bark
hearing the redwoods unbuttoning their shirts.

i thought of water
the trees
wet grass slowly coldening my back
the rain and all the whys of times i had walked in it
wet dropping leaf nightswaterfalls continuously creating unfillable lace curtains
wet shoe slogs through sunny puddle after the rain days…

i thought of the sea
warm broth mother of us allbitter mother to taste
brownian blue-green plankton unaware of their own miraclesbaleen whales
incredibly complex food-chain debris processes operating by something so much more than chance
fish that would die but for the weight of a mile of water
without eyes
so many remnants of pre-historic ages
swimming down the punctured darkness of time—waves
more powerful than man’s imagination changing the gilded frames of the continents

i thought

woodblock tree

but the deep throated white rushing of the waterserene
brought me back to my sensesmy hands floated before me as I sat down
and the day disappeared in my breath.

my friends too became as the trees, as the rocks, andlater
over tea
there was no need to speak