Under the Flowering Jacaranda

Fragrant, lilac colored flowers cluster

Together, like hands from a multitude,

Stretching out five-fingered petals, pinching

At the air, reaching out in a last gasp, to grasp

The idyllic serenity their aura emanates. Worries

And judgments fail to cloud their perceptions –

Blossoms signal a momentarily eternal spring.

Purple carpets the ground, providing a regal

Setting for a picnic tryst. A lingering

Scent of harmony drifts on the laconic

Breeze, calmed by the jacaranda present.

A nearby brook enunciates the whispered

Secrets which the gentle wind whistles

Through the tree’s branches. Along the Paraná

River valley, just like a mother’s love, its

Music never ceases, singing through Brazilian

Guitars made from its wood in the way

A baby coos its contentment after suckling.

The jacaranda nurtures without words,

Caresses without touching, and spreads influence

Throughout its sphere without arguing, teaching,

Scolding or demanding. It simply loves for the

Sake of loving because all-which-is deserves

Every ounce of love it can well up and offer,

And nothing is ever lost when love is shared. 

Somnolent Caterwauling

A dark, summer night melts the icy moon

With undying, undiscovered memories

From within the heart’s furnace.

Tomorrow’s eternal wick

Glows, golden, beyond reach:

Pinching fingers

Try their hand at cheating.

Phantasmal fantasy

Flicks dandruff shrugs

Off stooped shoulders -

Another galaxy rejoices.

The unbinding grasp

Releases somnolent caterwauling

From the screeching scratch

Of a desolate desert. 

By a Stream

As water undulates and flows
over and between rocks and pebbles,
winds breeze and billow
their frolicking oscillations,
and soil nurtures life, providing
the stage's platform, and moments
inscribe hallucinations upon mirage.

A bird flutters from a tree limb
and delicately perches upon a rock
to sip cool refreshment.

Trout linger in eddies,
their watchful eyes scanning
for unsuspecting insects
to buzz within leaping range.

I sit in an inarticulate hush,
shaded by the broad-leafed arms
of a walnut tree, thawing
in the summer morning,
reverie soaring among the clouds,
polished by simplicity.

The Last Door

Peering into night's deepest ebony wash;
Barely witnessing the last, tiny sliver
Of the moon wane into invisibility;
Palpitating with anticipation as Segovia
Demands absolute silence before plucking a note;
Trudging on, step after step, after exhaustion
Depletes the last ion of energy;
Driving at 3 a.m., still up from the previous 6 a.m.,
Yet unable to find a motel with a vacancy;
Fingers barely gripping handholds near the summit;
Sustaining the last note without taking a breath;
Weeping through dry eyes;
Sucking the last drop from a glass through a straw;
Anticipating the last wave's was upon the shore;
Deafened by light passing through the edges of the last door. 

Imperceptibly Etching

Red dirt surrounds
cedar trunks whose roots
ache from thirst
but the leaves
flutter on branch fingers
as a slow breeze
inherits moisture
from an electric cloud

A red ant crawls
toward noon's tolling
boil weaving a sticky
trail to a rabbit
carcass already
picked clean by coyote
pups still shrilly howling
triumphantly charged glee

The first drops of blood
seep from the spreading
doe mule deer's vagina
bearing her first calf

The sun moves
imperceptibly etching
a golden arc on an azure arch

Tired hands roll
tortillas by a fire
where carne asada spits
and sizzles in a pan

Children's voltage squeals
escape from naked bodies
as they slither through
shaded stream banks
under the watchful
gaze of tomorrow's
red-tailed hawk
demanding from its nest

In the night where
no moon reigns Grandma
threads smokey fingers
through an old man's
dreams making tacos
for the little boy she
once knew and now sees
bouncing up the porch steps

Haiku-Koan Variations Study

The four winds begin
and meet in the nebula's
sacred space moment

Unquenched offerings
set sail on rudderless ships'
eternal return

Nothing lies hidden
in ceaseless activity
but nothing appears

Ripe fruit to the taste
snuggles under the covers
with yesterday's seed

Slithering pictures
gurgle newborn contentment
on ancient cave walls

Black rolling caisson
through the muddy streets of tears
reveals the infant