God Is

God’s a hungry red tailed hawk, keening somewhere out of sight

God’s the ancient Hebrew prayer I forgot how to recite
God’s the hand I cannot see, on a dreary moonless night
God is what I left behind, though I tried with all my might
God is all the work I’ve done, but never gotten paid
God was in my car that night I could have gotten laid
God stood by in silence while my father called his name
And turned His back although He knew, just what his son became

Acts Of Rebellion

I witnessed several acts of rebellion today, 
against the leaden lawbook of the earth:
lofting branches laden with nubile leaves;
beyond, the intermittent silhouette of a heron,
solemnly beating upwind; and a swallow,
cutting like a tight end on invisible turf,
to snag a hapless butterfly from the unsuspecting sky.

Ode to Li Po

there is a slender stream, slicing through my town
that must be traversed, to reach my home.
I’ve got a pipe in my pocket
and a head full of wine--
as I plunkplunk upon the bridgeplanks
an owl barks at the hovering moon,
There, over the sparkling trickle,
I pause to light a bowl. Deeply drawing smoke, 

the pipe’s orange glow swells to rival the rising moon.
Without a sound, the owl takes flight. 

The one flies past the other; their twins skim the stream.
Their witness exhales leisurely, and then departs the scene.