A note accompanying these poems left under a shell on the front deck simply read, “Sometimes, Less is More.”

Living Here

Looking at his feet
an old man mutters
down the sidewalk
along the coast road.
Living here,
we grow used
to how big the sky
and ocean are.

* * *

Stucco Mountain Range

So elusive
the thing behind
that square of sunlight
on the morning wall,
still, so many
years after.

Shadowy
western slopes
of a stucco mountain range.

* * *

Something to Fall Back On

Something to fall back on,
there’s the problem.
Poetry’s all right,
but you need to have something
to fall back on.

What a laugh!
Try as I might
there’s always been something
to fall back on.

* * *

Sensible Voice

So many wasted days
the sensible voice groans,
while all the moments
of sunlight, stillness, and rain
tumble back into the stream
and I am caught laughing, again.

* * *

So Much Depends Upon

deepening night
then morning
reveals

fine fat
dewy
red motorcycle

* * *

Wired

cicada thrill
slicing seamless night
like wire

* * *