Hobbled by indifference—
it takes years to fix the harm of
minutes of ideocracy

Our wealthiest country
is only as rich as its touch
on the bellies of its poor

Deep purple lilacs
capture my nose into their clasps
to forgive me from me

I was invented
to observe life from a strange—
divergent angle

Ancient burdens compress
sandstone alcoves weeping in time
hanging waves of green life

Our lives are more about
full and enduring connections
than siphoned traditions

Dark chocolate catharsis—
melts away the hardtack grinds
exempt from any guilts

The strongest of all walls
is an open wall—enclosing
a nation of righteous

Speckled Northwoods lakes
flecks of blue clothed in green pine
puddles on granite wings

Caring for the earth
is causally related to
caring for the poor

Caring for the rich
is causally related to
caring for politicians

The joy in a child’s face
cliffside they play in rappels
bringing warmth to lonely stone

Perhaps in the end—
we become judged more by how we
change and accept change

Technical writing plants
poisonous toadstools—lurking
in creative writing

Words are slowly dying
in snaps of billiard ball breaks
muddled rolls of emojis

We are the taller force
prepared to stand up against—
equal or greater loads

Killdeer shrieks warn loud
pointed wingtips slice winds o’er me
I’ll tread a wider birth

Talus rockslide dreams
young majesty died in listing
angles of sharp repose

Imagine quilted peace—
stitched words of quiet knowledge
covers reckless word filth

Shattered fine sandy sieves
now filter my turbid waters
in friendly teamwork

I had “free-range” parents
wandering upon their blessings
I grew up sure—like oak

Lonely pink desert phlox
blooms in dry red rocky cactus
pricking dreary parchments

When I was younger
I could squat effortlessly—now
I can’t touch the floor

Don’t allow small tremors
to sink in his liquefactions
of your body, mind, or soul

A mine shaft’s head frame
skeleton silhouette masks
lonely painted sunsets

A mining ghost town
shuddered in age, awakens to
skiers on his shaven slopes

Ruins of old brick walls
cry in graffiti epitaphs
for one good memory

The darkest night can be
illuminated with pure light
but grey days quench all sun

A rare, peculiar place
where flowers journey to bloom—
in Death Valley paintings

When in doubt, always
remember a higher power—
all-seeing eyes of Google

I’m a numbered ball
tumbling in a lottery machine
who is never picked

The wings of left and right
converge on a far darker loop of
powers draining free will

Unknown histories
of water pouring from your tap—
blood, money, conflict, lies

When you have been hurt
assist and comfort all others
whose aches drown your own

Cave cricket’s live life blind—
notwithstanding your many snags
many unseen live worse

To disarm those conflicts
which have festered forever
choke up apology

Blackbird’s midnight wings
painted by brushes of darkness
quietly crowd the wire

It’s still impossible—
to prove the non-existence of
something which does not exist

Our God and our guns—
as incompatible—as
our God is our guns

Become a writer—
find peace and enlightenment
with no internet

I pause on a ridge
searching for the next rock man—
a cairn to point my way

Do not allow your strengths
to become your weaknesses—
water smooths all rock

Why are we so fearful
of failure and its possessions?
For time swills all mistakes

Lonely spaces need rest
from photons soaking in décors.
Turn off annoying lights!

Like hustling semi-trucks
dragging airs, pulling me along—
I run in my wife’s wake

Columbines blossom
in nature’s pride—but I close
in my timid green home

Lichens on the rocks
live with rock, in sundry colors—
we all sit on the rock

Don’t let your intellect
stumble over your wisdom—
flowers always seek sun

If I could consume
all the secrets of the deep blue
I would still be lost

The smartest people
never need to tell others—
that they are smart

Stars flood emptiness
green moss covers damp shadows
books still have blank pages

How long does it take—
for us to grasp naturally—
our place in the wild

Awoke so early
to see the super blue blood moon!
Alas, eclipsed by clouds

Can we find at least
as much faith in God—as He
has faith in all of us

The Tree of Life—
a mammoth book of red edits
pages ripe with our fruits

Grains of sand on Earth
cannot begin to number
stars in the universe

Look deep into sand’s
painted cosmos of spreading life
shaped in tiny spirals

Trickle-down theory—
implodes within economics
explodes on tongues of hate

Earth is a ball of yarn
with thread dragging into deep space
shrinking—tightening us

Whorls of petrified wood
fingerprints of the ancient’s
treehouses that endured

Clean drinking water
flows uphill—through the countless
green pipes of greed

Campfires crackle
old typewriters pounding words
warm and kind friendships

The mists of green forests
blend with blue from ocean mists
beaching foams of teal peace

Far-sighted—vivid
rainbows glance off of the sun
but we stay myopic

Judge me like a song—
played upon the strings of nature
blindly and softly

Empty all my heart
over each of my posterity
as parents poured on me

We are like waters
quenching the dry dogged deserts
slowly—but at great cost

Water can be unearthed
anywhere on the blue planet
it only needs some green

As I age into greys
I squander hair where I won’t not
to sprout in nose and ears

The wilderness thrives—
but for me, the loneliest place
thrives in a big city

Xenophobia
times [fear of, (truth in science)]
equals = fascism!

Music is like flight’s
far-reaching wings of mercy
pure, true, forgiving

The two-party system—
disjointed in partisan chaos
sinks in khaki swamps

Geocaching appeared fun—
but deep in nature’s wildest shell
lies secret eggs of trash

If the solution
to pollution is dilution—
then how much should I drink?

A ghost town’s stone walls
whisper on deserted winds
memoirs of kids dancing

A cold fox dives in our field
long tail brushed in hoary frost
a vole gives up its warmth

The spring’s clear flowing pool
boils up from a white sandy bed
life from her old mountain

Old firs sway in the winds
tall, droning with snow-peaked howls
icy drips, stroke my face

Walking in the light
has cost me over the years—
in sunburns and cancer

The night’s full white moon
rains its ethers through my blinds
winking at sleeplessness

The greatest invention
in my thinning skins of age—
soft, warm polar fleece

After a cold night’s snow
below our deck, tracks dart out in
all paths—did they sleep?

On life’s mountain apex
after all is said and done
lies fairer green births

Daffodils of peace
weave golden-haired tranquility
into aspen meadows

Naked and exposed
the river rolls her polished stone
deep into my pocket

Zucchinis, chained on vines
spread across our garden’s wall
to feed a neighbor’s door

Deep, primal, and secret
Oakley artesian water
colds from a mountain’s heart

Toddler in the yard
dimpled hand—armed with a stone
launched—into her mouth

Hummingbird energy
electric blue-green feathers
igniting nectar’s fuel

The ripened super moon
juices upon the mountain’s blade
milk of the starry night

Granite slabbed peaks
pickled in lively lichen
await a first climb’s lick

Walking on frosted grass
engraves long tangled etchings
when lost on my phone

Scents of warm pouring rains
rise in tiny greyish decays
lost vapors of life

Recompressed—from snows
to ice, now grip warm crystals
engrained in sandy time

Walking across emerald
greens of an alpine sodden bog
I emerge—one shoe lost

Words need some warming-up
stretching muscles—transforming like
stirring words of yoga

My mind’s roundabout
rolls in every direction, from
simple bags of marbles

The goats leap about
high—over each other’s backs
and into the ditch

The sun spills itself
over dark purpled mesas
drizzles of pouring gold