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Subject Matter

Why not paint the songs of invisible threads?
Of the lives between molecules
And the galaxies of atoms?
Why not track the migration of whales
In concert with the night vision of owls
And the hum of warm thinking?

Can't I paint the shock of gavel to block:
Of man to man?
The glue of music's grasp
And the plaintive cry
Of brook pebbles smelling the hunter?

Can't I paint the strain of being alive
And the refrain of wondering
If it might ease the heart to be elsewhere?
Or the primary joy of moments well-spent,
Of participating in the wedding of spirit and matter?

At which hour does the eagle scream
to feed his nestling
From the herring homing to surf rocks
urging to spawn?

At which lumen does the violet flower?
And where exactly does the glacier stop,
Let rest its booty
The lightning to shake out thunder?

It is all critical.
The painter knows all this.
no moon - no magic
no black - no possibility
no dark - no glow
no shadow - no light

Finding Things

The track of the wild
Cries sharp in the baking sand.
Echoing from starred midnight
And the envelopes of unseen things.
 
I know you walked here;
I can feel your careful stealth
And your direction sensing
Larger, larger than yourself,
All when the world was made yours,
And you left me the mark
Of where to go in the dark.