disembodied

after the new moon
a nite thick with dream images
tv screens, birthday cakes, my son, sister
a small beagle hit in the road

...
if there was only one word
what would the white bear say

shot after terrorizing the native village
she
gifted with the great skull
will cast it in glass
build a canoe of moose ribs
a record keeper
grateful to be alive

here on the empty beach in winter
dark clouds rise from the horizon
before light
distant memory of a wished for whalebone hut

the sound of the train comes closer
the vibration... then gone
behind the road
a parallel world
railroad tracks through the marsh
stands of thick scrubby pines
hide ice to skate on

a squirrel on its back .. flattened
the head of a raccoon at dusk

a man sends me photos online
open at own risk
a 'voice' over the phone
a puzzle sits on a table top
how to find all the pieces
another man, part indian
creates a yearning in me
we never meet

2
sacred heart

the sand therapist hands me a figure of jesus
mardi gras beads
are prayer
13 years of sunday school did not 'take'
still... jesus is one of my heroes

the filters of life slip
like dropping a long black velvet cape
and walking out from under it
or cracking open from an egg
raw
i am present to the moment
unprotected
it's cold but i walk the beach
face into the sun
hard wind from the west
waking me

earlier
coming home
small order of french fries
then at high tide mark ... treasure
a washed in faded purple-gray shoulder bag
i reach down
pick it up
and underneath
oh so perfectly
the body of a crow
staring up at me
some glistening black angel
wings folded at its side

'bless you' i say and set the bag back
softly over its body
some things are best left alone

3
openness

at three i wake with a headache
at four
drink coffee
fix door to let in air
i'm working on a painting
the mermaid has two christmas trees

the crow i saw in the sand haunts me

i'm meeting someone today at becky's diner
there's a 2.5 acre piece of property on a distant island
artist lofts in the city

tomorrow at hannafords i'll buy the clarity
of yellow tulips
but i don't know that now

march arrives
breaking us
winds blow away frozen mind dust
winter's darkness
cold
ice melts exposing holes
that swallow everything
left
in sight