Quinault Rain Forest

First AfternoonThere are a million pebbles beneath my feet.A small riverbed sleeps eight feet in front of me,The wind circles my small chest. First MorningI rise to a full forest and a hungry belly.A long haired father with three caught fish,two Trout and one Steelhead. First NightLimbs of Red Cedars move at night.I hear the Tree dream…

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The Straw Girl

No one comes.  House lights burnin the empty street, white oaksshudder in all these silent yards.She stands in October moonlight,leaves swirling at her feet, opensher eyes to another gravity’smagic pull. How strange to feelthat pale yellow bath on her cheeksand painted smile.  She drinksthe darkness as an owl floatsby, its alien face round as anothermoon…

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Only in Silence

Even now, as my fingersTurn incised in time,As my eyes fall uponThe dusting of artificialSweetener some carelessHand forgot, I wonderOn the involute silenceOf empty space.      A neverSilent silence. BespottedAlways with the stigmataOf an omnipresent hum. This hum is not unlikeThe hum of industryBut for its source— its sourceLies hidden deep in the earth,Or perhaps it originatesIn…

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