from Clouds, leaves, waves.

from Clouds, leaves, waves.



1
The rocks on the beach,
were like the reeds painted
at the lagoon, elemental.
A theme silhouetted
that we understood-- as
looking at Andromeda,
the swirl in Orion’s belt,
frogs croaked-- “in puddles
that bathed the stars."



2
tumbling through
Sierras of Spain--
a dry warm wind of inclusion,
swirling, whirling gyres of winding
reeds, generators of thought
and shells transmitted
through a projectors beam,
shadows of figures
on the tent’s walls

The old woman’s clothes
blown in patterns like shells
thrown through beams of light,
whirling in a wind that
rushes through reeds,
Swoosh--

the stain of purple paint,
peering into the layers
the striping wind in the mind,
equating thoughts thrown
on walls, gathering skirts
against the universe,
on the high hill of an older time.








3
trailing off into the woods
by the reeds a reflective pond,
a breeze ripples the surface
ongoing, text of time, the wind
increases

the sparrow alight--
a coming alive, the noticing sign.

The Indian said,
“where the bird stops, there the god is.”

a resultant flash!





4
Seeing order, in details,
valiant information, swallows swoosh--
through the reeds, breaking up
the light’s design into
diamonds reflecting, the sky, drifting...

worrying about the earth.




5
A dream of
the lagoon in the sun,
x's circling the reeds,
a magic realism,
thinking about St. Francis,
the birds he loved...
then, a rustling
a figure in a guise, the reeds,
the thoughts struggling, to be free
returning, then stepping into the fore.









6
Everything is broken,
the man in black turns--
washing his brushes, “I’m done.”
the reeds
blaze red, in silhouette.




7
symbols, flying
endless chain of rings
clouds, leaves, waves-- shells
gather, swirling in clouds, circling
through leaves, passage...
the journey
the wind of time
in reeds, gyres of...




8
Tell the story--
tell of the journey
the forms seen
the light in the reeds,
weaving birds, swallows
trace shapes of shells,
the leaves, and distance--

Stop!
A vertical gasp, creates a height--
to a horizontal pilgrimage
suffering to symbolic moment.









9
Achilles in the reeds,
and my soul betwixt
Crispin’s flaking diamonds.

Abstracting to height
toward Art, as Crispin heightened?
or subtraction from
Nature?





10
Winter’s far flung symbols,
in clouds of ongoing time
faster-faster-faster
more-more-more
ongoing, rushing-- reeds
swoosh-- stop, YES, this!

Meaning--
the rushing on, of
meaning less-- ness--





11
The sprawling of winter
pieces of this --grey.
A diamond scratching the sky,
two figures walking through reeds,
the wind picks up leaves,
shells dream designs, circling

a vase looming, beyond.
Clouds, low flat-bottomed
rush toward destinations,
evaporating, gyring stripes
to shape thoughts, ongoing
as texts in time.









12
A walk around the western Lagoon.

Entering there,
the reeds through the pines
design, a classic view of the bridge
into the distance, ice plant
providing a fairy path... Astride,
beholding the fanning eucalyptus.





13
At noon shining sunflowers
surrounded by broken shells--
reeds silhouetted behind,
in deeper space, water sparkling
diamonds, white and black,
harlequin like, break with surface

into a cubism of the day,
tumbling acrobat, of tantric
cosmology.




14
abstracted, changed, giving pleasure
between imagination and reality
light shining, as the wind blows
gently through reeds, revealing forms
in paintings.


drawing a vision
for the creation of the day.

“...it’s rush hour now, and the sun is
going down...”

far off-- Point Conception.










15
The tent on the beach,
stars above, black rocks
in the sand reflecting in pools,
trees in ragged
silhouette,
beyond, the reeds dreaming
in the lagoon.




16
A western scene,
breaking water, birds circle

the figure in the reeds,
leaving down a fairy trail.
An oriole in a palm, flys swooping
towards the beach, the dunes.
Saluting the ocean, then
looking down, a skull
on the tide, seaweed’s fingers





poised on the Bridge, a new reality
abstracted, changed, giving pleasure
between imagination and reality
light shining, as the wind blows
gently through reeds, revealing forms
in paintings.









17
“...no man shall see the end.”
the reeds, the rock like island
arches, as the Dipper arcs ‘round
blinking the finality,
through the silhouetted reeds.





18
Cavalier sun
bringer of new realities,
the tragedian recovers
sustaining a patrol through reeds.
The ideal moment
of reality imagined--
balanced, then falling.









19
sets up this still life, altar of flowers,
finds shells on the shore,
reads the poetry of life and death
in the sunset, red, passing


the reeds, the rock like island
arch, as the Dipper arcs ‘round
blinking the finality,
through the silhouetted reeds.





he “...was lying down in the reeds,
without any oxygen...”

(a babe born in words!)