Friday, October 26, 1979


Blue eyes have always startled me
As if I could touch them with my hands
Are they cold and is my hand sticking to dry ice
Or is the flesh of my fingertips melting
And assuring itself to their surface?


Friday, October 12, 1979



was that a
blue bird in a
bay tree
or a jay bird
in a blue tree?


Wednesday, October 3, 1979

I AM A HAWK 3 takes Michael Dow workshop

I am a hawk circling upward in a thermal draft, 
and the sky is blue. You are a cricket on a dusty path in summer.
I am a feather spiraling down to earth from the tail of the red hawk
You are a red leaf floating in the breeze
The pileTed woodpecker knocks on the tree
and we drift into autumn, as one.

Michael Dow workshop

I am a hawk circling upon a thermal draft and the sky is blue.
I am a feather spiraling downward to earth from the tail of a hawk.
I have rested on the leader limbs of the Inverness pine
And I am the mouse whose tiny paws grew feathers
I become the hawk and launch into space
A blackbird and I head south as the storm approaches.


The roots of the Inverness pine were planted in t he earth by my grandmother when I was a child. Then, the free was no taller than me. Nearly two decades later, it looms up into the sky, the very symbol of strength and clarity. Many times I have been the hawk resting on the leader branches, I have also been the mouse who climbs up to the top to see what it can see. He is afraid of heights, still he climbs upward. The  top sways in the breeze, he clings to the pine needles, with tiny paws. He sees beyond his scope. His fur sprouts feathers, he becomes the hawk, and launches out into space.


I think I attempted to make this work several times over, to no avail. What I know now, compared to what I knew then. 11/2/2015