Be It as You Imagine

Wherever under the sky I walk
there’s something of you in the earth,
stone, sage, air, living river
and high as the hawk can fly
vapor, mist, rain you are,
sunlight moons give back to me.

Be sure, all I touch holds you.
Memories dream in the land
where the ancestor-spirits breathe
their souls imprinted on red rock
echo the secrets they told
in the hush of mountains we roam.

The vision they had of man
walking hand in hand in peace
walking like walking trees
in a land of corn and walking dreams
is a river of hope flowing from you
to me and back…
What lives in me is you,

Moon-glow, star-fire in turbulent dark
turning the wheel of my hidden heart.



Sedona, Arizona, 1995

Winter Moon

Blackness and silence, that is where she rises,
Sylvia, you knew the moon too well.
Well of illusion, misguided dreams; old virgin appearing in white
she is barren, dry, bald-
Stolen light is borrowed beauty.
How can she be Lake of the gods,
She’s a mirror, she confounds, bewilders, dazzles and deceives.

What is a lover to her but a fool– You know what is said,
the lover, the lunatic share one bed–
A memory of sunlight, a fantasy in the way of her bright emptiness,
that is what love is to an old, envious maid.
I’ll not look on her again easily,
how can I and not recall
up over the white shoulder of a windy hill in icy air

She unveiled her face to me– I, whom she’d driven to despair,
cried a name she would never hear.



On Mt. Sorak, Korea

I have seen them before like this
with the sky so close
it seems to touch
the glaze of ice and snow,
I have seen them
lifting limbs
as if to take and hold
a star on every branch,
but not in so odd a light:
lulled by wind
into a cold dream of sleep
as though the moon
conspired with the peaks
to shine nowhere else tonight
but here, to show
they are the stars
as they are the earth,
this one place
is all the universe
made brighter by the white birch.



On Mt. Sorak, Korea first printed in “Origins, Arrivals, Departures” 1995