Stop in the Woods, South of the Lake

A stone hut, not hard to keep,

A quick sweep, trees to the shore—

The green light like a swift thief

Bursts in the house, throws gold coins,

And crows, Look, life, I’ve come home!

Calm peaks wait, mute, by the door.

Shared Fate

Small trees crawl up the side of the hill.
We all do our crimes at our own scale.
The rich rob hordes and hordes of the poor.
Hordes of the poor grab back, bit by bit.
The great trees thrive a while in the gaps.

To Kill Care

That can change us all to be,
To know what is true for truth,
And what’s true for truth is that

No one can be true to truth.
We work as long as we can.
We try not to kill the cat.

Each time, each, is the first time
In our life. It’s just a lot
Of first times seem like old times,

Which is why we start to lie.
A word is not for one time,
But truth is not for all times

And in that gap’s where we thrive.
We learn to count, the best lie.
We try not to kill the truth,

But care for the truth too much
And truth, that fat cat, too stuffed,
Dies. Let it out to hunt lies.

The heart and bones of a lie
That threw tints and songs in flight,
Are like truth’s own heart and bones,

And it’s sad to see a wing
Or just a head with closed eyes.
It’s hard to be true to truth,

But just as hard to be true
To lies. Sing when you can. Fly.
The truth can’t be on your side.

Slim Yoke Moss

Yes, it’s real, but not much
Of it is left. A speck
Of rock is all it’s got.

Who will save it? It lives,
Or does its best to live
While it waits for a tree

To fall or be trimmed back
So it can get some light.
It lies furled. It needs light.