darwin quote

Toward the end of his life someone asked Charles Darwin,
"after spending a lifetime studying the works of creation,
what can we now infer about the mind of God?"
Darwin pondered the question a moment then replied,
"gosh he sure is fond of BEETLES!"
(over half a million species)

stevie-ku

cheap enough to dare
    & cut his own hair-
        does he care?

heir to a New World!

pink   cloud   ribbons
   on this gift
      that presents itself
         above the pine-spined horizons--
A New Day!

breath

-for Allen Ginsberg

BREATHE     as the source
   of samadhi
      pra na ya ma--
of all life's gifts
the greatest,
direct link to moon cloud
   wind  star &snow--
inbreath,     outbreath
the entire cycle
three hundred sixty degree
in one diaphragmatic motion--
Live On!     Live On!
O bright red blood
Course On!

fold-ku

The same old argument
Is it you or me-
Whose turn to fold the laundry!

double-rainbow

A corner of it caught my eye
So I ran to the street
Rewarded for my effort
By a splendid double-rainbow
Just after dawn,
High across the cheeky rainclouds-
The first band so brilliant,
Neatly defined.
The second higher yet & faint,
But the eye can make it out-
Just a hint of silver & red.

cruel joke

It started as a cruel joke
Until I recognised
She might actually buy it,
Up late when I saw on TV
The News Report at 3AM
There'd been a spectacular explosion
And the regal sun,
Pouring forth its golden rays
For millenia,
Has been reduced to globs
Of glowing red embers.
"Better get used to it,"
I warned,
Looking out across
   the constellation of citylights
      tumbling to the horizon,
"There will be no more days"

Taps

At Harrison's Landing
   the day lies ebbing
       a sheet
Of last light on the James River;
A gaggle of snowgeese
Murmurs on the flat water
By the Civil War shrine
Where the brass elegy "Taps"
Was first sounded,
Echoing down the far chambers
           of the mind

wundering

What do you call
male of the specie--
'gentleman bugs'?

Six AM frost

The morning after The Big Snow
The entire Valley of Good Grass
Is locked in ice,
I give my usual greeting
To Antares
Spinning in the heart of Scorpio
As treacherously
I navigate my way to the street
For the morning paper
Slipping & sliding like a drunken sailor
But mine eyes get rewarded!
By the frizz glitter of town-lights
Frosting the empty mailbox