November Notes

Low Tide, Conomo Point


I wander in the body of this era
find the fluid bathing the mind
Washing logic, dirty clothes
Love, hate , anger, fear.


I need so many words
to explain anything,
even the obvious
depends so much
on the other.


The morning sun inflamed uncut grasses
outside, tall waving, fuzzy seeds,
heavy from a wet late summer

Reminded me of old monks yearning
reaching for words, like seeds
seeking to plant elsewhere,

Before me is life, its meaning
beyond dreams of transcendence
its growth its seeds its transits,
yellow tints, soft oranges,
glittering dew, light in the tangle.


The shrouds tighten
when our boat heels
as we tighten when aging
in a wind unrelenting.

Every year the patch of sky
grows smaller as the trees rise
enclosing my space, my vision
my eyes are sun pained
after days on the water.

posted by Kent at 10:37 AM 1 comments
Sunday, February 22, 2009
How many things can we say
in celebrating birthdays?
count years pilling one
on another, pretend some
are more than another,
an accumulated wisdom
here, a step to somewhere,
achievements and losses too
until what counts truly
is continual love
and the sweetness of life.