Let each creature be named

let it fall off our tongue

and hang in the air

like the mystery


that draws us outside at night

to love the moon

and watch the seam of clouds

part like lupine petals, becalmed


Maybe this land is a conduit

the enervation of things

extending each rivulet of light

pulling it closer


into our hands

our hearts splitting open


bursting with the fullness


of these smoothed hills

these nooks and tangled draws

that rise up in the hush of darkness

to whisper our name


What Sifts The Straights

of this pebbled treble,

the crush of geology

benevolent metal?


Ethereal mineral

oscillates, ellipsed.

Hues construe what

waves imbue, this


illogical illusion,

liquid eclipsed.

Even in symmetry

the dew drop slips.









To gather water, your formidable

fire first calls colors. Fills the cirque sky with

friction fed form, hues uninimitable.

The first dusk drum sparks the cliff.


Stone gills open, your exhale hammers hush

with sound. Musicality of matter

shakes the core, reverberates, thrusts the crush

of clouds. The wild acoustics of water


thrum pollen loose. A frantic crash finds us

humbled, small, mumbling about power.

How we know the thrum of thunder. Each gust


gores our grandeur, each echo calls cower.

Do you portend our end, or benevolent brine?

Thunder wanders from raven’s mouth to mine.



one hundred nineteen revolutions      

to wake the cormlets             blue purple                   constellations

                                                frame forest and sage           

grow                        among weeds and the fine flowers


                   six tepals, one dream







Redstem filaree


 Pink rosettes erode emptiness. In fall we find you fecund. Naturalized. A perfect crimson intrusion, pollen-painted. Into November’s brown yawn, seeds keep flinging. Everything gravity sows first flies. What if we wanted a here without you? Tiny etchings trace coralloid inlets. Erodium, from the Greek erodios, heron. Stork’s bill, crane’s bill, redstem filaree. The shroud of your red ruse. Of color. Of naming what is here, without. What does the sky call you? I am also.

Autumn Hymn


The elision of hours decants without.

Blinding brilliance, hyperspectral bloom

chisels clouds to sheer static spume.

An integral bliss brims the day stout,


fractures the frailty filled with doubt.

Great heights hold hues, a blue limned womb

vertiginous in the void, auspicious plume.

And presence is the clarity with clout.


It is insistent. Fractal flowers flay

the sky, a cadence of afference. Achenes,

potent with promise, fulgency fled,


find cerulean spirals, windward led.

How wide the blunt blue day, unforeseen,

latent with life, this autumnal dream.

We Speak Minerals

minerals pluck one

elemental elocution

a paraphrase of none.


The glow of euphony

sings into the seam

aggregates in lignin

precipitates between.


Visceral latitudes

garner the gifts

ephemeral, ophitic,

our dicentric drift.


Stone stung wavelets

biogenically ingrained

what duality divests

euphoria regains.

Would You Call This A Weed

Not from here. Plant out of place. Invasive. Noxious. Beautiful, alive. Causing harm to people or their livelihood. Parallel veined. Transplant. Displacer of founding flora. Monocot. Liliaceae. Sign of spring. 3-merous, 6-tepaled. Green. Purposeful. Plant in place. Fed, watered, coaxed.

Non-nothing. Not found here.



Azimuth and Altitude for Northern Latitudes


Amber apex, motionless in sky, this light an axis for our

boreal blindness. The sun succumbs. Winter wills death to delicate green,

cedars stay. Seeds steel against ice, inch deeper in soil where

darkness decides. Cotyledons sleep in subterranean hope heaps. An

equilibrium of time mimed by tilt. Approach the horizon with precision,

fixed star, wheel about awakening, bright stare. Even with cold. Roots

geotropic, seep to ground, buried in frost. Evening a long slow tide of twilight, a

heliacal rising of paired planets. Moon moored, towards the azimuth of flight, the

irruptive flocks finding seed. Grosbeaks, goldfinches, red crossbills in the glazed

june grass. Naked larch, sky the taste of winter, constellations flock in 

kinnikinnick, evergreen arms color-spilled. Red berries snow buried. To see

light lapse into inky azure. Clouds close the canopy. The heat of sleep still seers the

moon. Slips beneath. Insolation, suspension of shadow in dark draws, pulls our

nucleus nearer. Dimensionless expanse, a season of white wandering,

ornate, blue flecked. Wind enkindling the crackling decay. Iridescence, sun dog,

parhelion, the ring of begin. Eyes open to everything, solemn shiver, the river

quartz-like, ice floes. Vitreous, viscous, encircling sky. Cliffs startle with white

radiance, water wanders below, nudges seeds. Ask the angle, when is it

summer with its verdant sepal swell? Purple petals into the press of

twilight’s hand, let us remember the heated hymn of the green stagger. Exposed

under bare boughs, ochre culms, achenes rattling, yesterday’s

vigor, seeds upon snow. Our hemisphere, this height, faces turned toward

wild anemia with molten want. It matters to be cold and alive, like a

xenocryst, internal clarity, though the fire’s fled. Darkest day of the

year. Morning opens to an impoverished gray, a gradient of light, the

zenith angle. How we crave this luminosity, the pithy albedo, bright sun.


Did They Ask


I find you still

but singing

midway up

the snag


one thrush

on an unwavering



two notes


then you are


I am quiet too


across the canopy

others sing to you


your kind


a hummingbird

draws drums

from motion

a ruby-crowned kinglet

carries air into



do they hear us

sing you, and why


a cassin’s vireo asks

and asks and



here I am

where are you: