Vast Expanse

Fish Springs National Wildlife Refuge, February 2026

Align

-In celebration of 
Planetary alignment 
And love and life

Sometimes, like today 
February 28th
All of the planets align

You commit to your
Own wild adventure, 
You  break sonnets 

Into sentences and 
Receive messages 
From the sea, the 

Oceans of desire 
Swell and calm
And swell again 

The foam of ancient 
Seabeds, laid down 
In marl of 

Seashells, an intimate 
Mixture of calcium
Carbonate and clay 

Prehistoric alluvials,
A vast bed under the 
Broad blue sky 

Where water, once 
Abundant, La Mer, is
Friable through fingers

The rise and fall
And rise of each breath
Rolls heavenward

Yet, now, all 
That undulates on
That vast range 

Are block horsts from
Earth’s basement,
Deepest oceans of

Molten waves, 
Mountains upon 
Mountains mirror 

Wave upon wave
The blue sky, Everything
Signifying everything 

The eons old lake, 
Long gone, becomes 
The background 

Of our days and 
Nights and days 
As the full moon

Wanes and waxes
Another quantum wave
Of space and time

Between Fish Springs Range and Thomas Range, Pony Express Trail

The Lonely Places (I)

I used to say that my family came from all the lonely places
That somehow, my diaspora got together and agreed to live
On vast plains of prairie, and in dry canyons and deserts
We moved with our own rhythm to the far north and
Set up tiny claims on sweeping vistas of the American
West, the lonely places– unwelcoming, sparsely inhabited

So as we drove yesterday across basin and range after
Basin and range, I could understand some of the longing
That knits the heart to space that confirms the lonely insides
Always looking out, through a window on the barren world
Where with delight a dusty coyote sprints across your path,
Downy woodpecker, her black mask, lights on a cottonwood branch,

There Earth’s bends, striations, upheavals, and rich history
Sit in blocks, and rocks, and mountains which carry our
Eyes beyond the present, forward and backward in time
Fox trots in and out of sage lanes and sand loops across the
Lonely, bereft, solo, alone, solitary, single, unaccompanied, one
Landscapes that require a yearning which cannot be quelled

Sevier Plateau, February 2026

Feminine

we are left fighting
against softness in a world
so desperate for peace

we’ve left her circles
behind to find that tech gods
of degradation

blight the entire
atmosphere, each system breeds
another fall and

trapped in arrogance
and ignorance we’re ripe for
tragedy, collapse

cycles of seasons
wind-songs and river beds all
speak her name, whisper

too soon, we sold her
sources, strength to greed-gutted
rulers, monsters, thieves

we are left fighting
for softness in a world
so desperate for peace

House Range, Pony Express Trail

Autumn again

Deschutes River as seen from Bend, Oregon

To Keep A Promise

Didn’t we all make promises?
Didn’t we all say yes to caring for each other?

And yet, here we stand with the truth the we
Must be our own golden mean, our own magic

We had nothing to do with the wild universe that
Called us into existence, except for that we have made

A pact, a promise to ourselves, that we 
Would live each day to honor our mitochondria

To uplift our own atoms, to love the Starrdust 
Of others– to kin-keep, to break bread, to

Carry things on our heads and backs, and hearts
And sometimes we have to break the promise

To set the other free, to honor our sovereignty
And perhaps, that is the gift of grief, those

Tendrils of sadness and severed nerves which 
Feel so raw, so new, so in need of protection

Cradle all of us in. The letting go. The setting
Apart, the making into two, and the reconstitution

Of family, of friends, of tables and candlelight 
A twilight override, a play it again, Sam

A journey that has always been one of the heart
That can really only view and visit the other through

A window– soul to soul, sex to sex, human to 
Human, heart to heart, I am that I am

Broken Top, Three Sisters Wilderness, Deschutes National Forest, Oregon (2025).

Falling Forward

It’s not very often I’m privy to an American football game
I prefer soccer, to be honest, or lacrosse, or even rugby
… Any other sport, but I was watching the epic
eternal battle (they call it the holy war) between the red and the blue
And my partner pointed out that one of the quarterbacks

Knew how to perform a ballet for each play, each pass, they
laser-focused their eyes, their body, their entire being
On the intention, the target, even after it left their hands,
yes, they fell forward, toward the play, toward the action
each time, there was not even a hint of indecision in

Their gaze, and it got me to thinking about how life
surely requires this, that we fall forward, that we
look to our most noble intentions with laser-focus
With longing, we’ll be so set on our goal that we’ll
Fall that direction, a ballet for each day

South Sister, Oregon

1.0 Human

a documentary
something about
education and
technology

the second clip
is Ken Jennings
you know, Jeopardy
most-winner who

explains that we have
already been bested by
the technology “gods’
all I can think

is, I’ll never be
ready for this
I’ll always want
bodies, and touch,

and direct instruction
eyes lit by
the sun and that
wondrous gray glob

of matter synapsed
by neurons
I need flesh over
algorithms every

day and the fact
that the bots
spell rhythm
with an i

(lower case) is all
you need to know
about the state of
humanity

I’m slated for the
scrap pile dust
to dust
my god

Montana

Absaroka Mountains, Paradise Valley, Montana. May 2025.

On Wednesdays

And sometimes, on Wednesdays, 
you feel altogether less than.
Less than creative. Less than
bright; less than enough. Still
there is this desire to burst some

seal in the universe to say what
you feel. And you determine
to send the man you love a letter
because you are also reminded
by your intro to writing classes

how powerful our interactions, 
entanglements with the natural
world really are. Reliving our
gorgeous weekend in Montana.
Wide skies, iridescent light. The river,

carving out its channel, hosting
bobbing rafts of geese, the
swift water constantly breathing,
caressing, quick-tickling its banks.
Feet, pinked, cold and smoothed

by silt and stones. The mule ears
sunshining in bunches on the
low slope of each sky-grazing
mountain range– Absaroka, Crazy, 
Gallatin, Tobacco Root– still white-

tipped with winter, now green-
black with pines, avalanche lines
and juicy jade undergrowth
all silently worshiping Spring,
new whorls of love made daily

Yellowstone River, Paradise Valley, Montana. May 2025.

Deluge

Spring, you may wander through my
soul in infinite spectacles of rebirth,
interrobangs of golden mule ears
apostrophes of purple monkshood,
little ellipsis of mountain service berries
punctuating each hillside and long
top-frothing grasses, mountain oceans
in growing breezes, a cloudy sky meant
to cast angles and halos, one
moment warm and the next a
whipping rain, a deluge,
steady then soft, pelting then gauze,
a corporeal mist clinging to river beds,
mountain roots and renewal

Peets Hill, Bozeman, Montana. May 2025.

Skin
shedding
morphing, learning,
lose, grow, shift, change
a year for becoming strong and centered
snake

Peets Hill, Bozeman, Montana. May 2025.


Blindness
absolute blindness
creates false hope, fists clenched and
clinging old, wet sand

Sight
when the grief subsides
the soul is filled with blinding
joy, internal sight

See
did you want to drive
your military complex
around on the street

Absaroka Range, Paradise Valley, Montana.




Gather

Observatory. November 2024. Image, my own.

Gather

So here we gather
On this bright and
Dark day in the Fresh
World, to see if there
Is a turkey of love
Between us– siblings,
cousins, lovers, parents,
Friends. And there it
Is– LOVE– carved out
For us in some miracle
Since the creation of the
Cosmos scuttled us
All together on this blue-
Green blessing of a planet
Quantum journey, accidental
Adventure, maybe in another
Life we don’t know one another
We haven’t stood witness
To one another’s joy and
Pain. But here, now
We are the people we
Know and love because
Of particles of song shared
Between us, and mud
Fights on Thanksgivings
Long ago, and stories that
Have connected us all
Bringing us to this
Moment– to Gather to
Settle softly into miraculous
Gratitude. Thank you
I love you. Forgive me, I forgive
You. I love you. All love.

Art Center. November 2024. Image, my own.


Other Ghosts

So now there are other ghosts
The angels of the past have
Come to comfort and protect,
To bring peace and stability
I don’t know how I know, but
Others feel it too, they enter
They awe, I feel the ancestors
In the daily spirals of
My existence, the soil of
My backyard, the song of
The trees and birds in the
Ancient ash. Many others
feel them, too, and tell me
They are near, they are
Present. I know that I am
Not the only one who has
Ever been separated from
My alter, my shelter, my
Building, my dreams torn
For a vision of the future
I could not ascribe
I’m learning each day
That each ancient has
Been sent as a guide
The present and the
Beyond, they’ve become one

Fall-Winter Bridge. November 2024. Image, my own.

One

Of the most powerful
Things happened to me
And I can both be humane
And protect myself against
Smiling scoffs, unkind people
Who would make a mockery of
Pain, I am so glad that I can live
My life wild and free, I was
Given a second chance at
Love, at happiness
You too?
I will never take that for granted,
My joy– that joy will go on to
Fill me, myself, my people
And all the rivers of song

Community Garden. November 2024. Image, my own.

The “Last” Great Thanksgiving

That’s what the menu read
And then they were all gathered
In one place—humans—with the
Most similar genetic makeup of
Any group of sapiens on planet
Earth. Siblings. And it was good

Woods– lovely, light, dark, deep. November 2024. Image, my own.

Gold

Sunset. November. Image, my own.

Beethoven Era

Can you imagine?
Deafness where once was joyous
Sound
Blindness where once filtrations of color-filled light
Ricocheted
Can you imagine?
Losing everything?
If you are human, the guess is, yes
But why must pain catalyze all our understanding? Is it
Truly our only teacher? Isn’t the promise of
Death
Enough to cause us to cling to love, to
Life, to now, maybe not. So maybe we go deaf, blind,
Senseless
Into that good night, into the dark, waiting for
The dawn with breath so small we barely live, sore
Respiration
Reaction, all part of this existence when what we
Thought we wanted most is gone, dematerialized where
Reality is echoed and
Chambered
Oh heart, please, live, please drink the night and day as
A cup of bitter sweetness, lasting but a blink
A piano hammer in the abyss, hammer to string, string
bing, bing, ba-bing, go, boogie,
Be

Gold Nike Shoes. Oakland Museum of California. Image, my own.

Andante

It will never do to keep running
Into yourself if you can’t look up,
Ponder the path of the stars in
The night sky, gaze with longing
And new eyes, on the moon with
Rapture, take in the horizon each
Day and walk into a new lifetime

Light Bulb(s). Image, my own.

Honey

Honey, laughter and green curry are all the #soulfood
I need the joy of bright kaffir lime leaves charged into garlic
and simmered over vegetables, a meal to carry us
through the ages, a gale of fascist hail and bull shit, the
storm of the century is upon us, and all we can do is cook,
sing, and watch the moon as it rises high in the night,
silent observer of her earthly neighbors what a perplexity
what a tragedy, only for a moment, all mixed with joy and
delight, how will we last, how will we survive the fight
join it, gear up, only history knows on this very first calm
snowy night. We hunker in, we knit, we resist like life
depends on it because it does, resistance can be small
nearly silent until the way is clear and that same moon
swims overhead as the path is lit in the quiet dark

Moon. Image, my own.

Orb

In reality
In the body
Black and gray
White and blue
softest aura
Hazing purple
Bold broad
Moon the
Clouds opaled
All around
Stars and sky
Dappled through
and Through
Lord, Bless
Gratitude for
Ohs and glitters
Heavens and Earth
The glory of it
All that lone
Full Moon

Gold. Leaves. Fall. Trees. Image, my own.