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copper hue

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the american birkebeiner, 2015

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third night in viroqua

fog blankets pavement

plucking metal strings, wailing

beer, black as this night

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roads that stretch on, over countless glacier carved hills, and and skies that beckon with adventure

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Pisgah Mountain Haiku (2011)

ice crashing down cliffs

wood snapping in the forests

a black bear hustles

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walk

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the cold wind carries me

leaves in the trees

earthen and dry

rustle with the voice of snow

death and transition

the brittle beauty of Fall

my heart bounding up hills

while i run these dirt trails

my lungs burn with knowledge

i am going to be a father

a girl

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walk

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if you have the energy you can do anything

go on without hesitating

if you go you'll understand

and the road that you walk is your life.

-moto-san, 2009

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abandoned

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The yellow plums fatten

In the pouring rain.

Frogs sing in the marsh reeds.

Late into the night I wait,

Toying with the chessmen,

While the lamp wick reddens and falls.

-Ssu-ma Kuang (translated by Kenneth Rexroth)

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pinhole.  madison, wisconsin.

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keeping bees

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Night Bicycle

these faceless cars streak past me my wheels humming as i pick up speed going down a hill and around a corner. soon, i'm at the bay. dark, quiet--everywhere. the windless surface drunk with reflected color my eyes linger on the glowing capitol in the sky subconsciously, i slow, then i actually stop-- through the window a projected sloth is grasping a branch i can feel the course texture of his fur. i am halfway to my bed.

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Trout by Richard Hugo (1961)

Quick and yet he moves like silt.

I envy dreams that see his curving

silver in the weeds.  When stiff as snags

he blends with certain stones.

When evening pulls the ceiling tight

across his back he leaps for bugs.

-

I wedged hard water to validate his skin--

call it chrome, say red is on

his side like apples in a fog, gold

gills.  Swirls always look one way

until he carved the water into many

kinds of current with his nerve-edged nose.

-

And I have stared at steelhead teeth

to know him, savage in his sea-run growth,

to drug his facts, catalog his fins

with wings and arms, to bleach the black

back of the first I saw and frame the cries

that sent him snaking to oblivion of cress.

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in search of stones, lake superior

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Gichigami

enveloped by fog

rain, lake shimmering, blanket

of porcupine quills