Listen & Be Heard Weekly Archives

Waking up under redwoods.
Ah! the smell…
A halo of treetops. Something
to look up to; a stand you take.
Colonel Armstrong doesn?Äôt creak
when the wind blows,
like a Jack London eucalpytus.
It’s the quiet type, my father or Gary Cooper,
straight & tall. Independent,
or seemingly so, if you ignore the obvious
It was a weekend
All days were the same in the summer
I was a kid Walking in the soft light
& shadow of the world?Äôs biggest trees,
I enter a spotlight in a small clearing
that crept up the red-brown bark at their feet
Twas, one of those times, I was aware:
my presence, a magical addition to the world
Going to the store for the morning paper
Smell the new plastic beachballs, the sea ?Äòn ski…
Feel the presence of the river,
an afternoon swim, just across the road & down

HEMINGWAY KILLS HIMSELF

I?Äôve carried this headline with me since,
just as I carried the paper back
to the Rio Nido cabin in the grove
It?Äôs a key that rattles loosely in my pocket
& opens up some happy moments
I take them where I get them
I make no judgments
Some things I don?Äôt question

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