vanish into wind
guitar stops sun
a shadow on the grass
a crow walks borderline
twisted oak
waves bare limbs
directing the north wind
out my window
a cloud of bird-travelers
fly left, not right
fire eats at night sky
cold wind a harsh witness --
her house burns
for bf
on the bus he works
a crossword puzzle
as sky slides past
first day with no teeth --
this autumn morning
tastes so vacant!
bus riders watch
blackbirds in the field
as they fly away
silent boy stares down ---
the grackle's body
looking into Death
wind snaps the umbrella
inside out
ice stings my face
sound of man upstairs
pacing the main deck
of his creaking ship
the pawn shop clerk
waiting for the next dream,
taps the counter
end of winter
air humid not yet warm
so his dog shivers
from two directions
rain rivulets on pavement
flow to the drain grate
across the creek
filtered by the bare trees
a distant bird cry
foxtail fern dormant
in a promise to return:
I think of old friends
on the moonlit stairs
he stops, remembering,
curses his way down
playful cold night
as the sharp bright moon
juggles crisp stars
slow autumn shower
the searchlight from a building
turns rain to diamonds
open window
pulls incense
into the world
we walk in a line
old guy Abbey Road cover
two carts, wheel chair, cane
rain on the tin roof
makes a sleeping cat
twitch one ear once
63 years gone --
with all this madness and theft
I walk the moon home
a crack of thunder
we look at each other --
the raindrops speak first
this busy street --
the old woman's red shoes
take her across
flute calls the moon
notes slide down the brick walls
slick with spring rain
face of the stream
borrows a few bright stars
from the night sky
dusk arrives
the willow's awning can't hide
a parked ambulance
stubble on my cheek
even my softest pillows
seem uncomfortable
the old man in line
makes fart sounds with his mouth --
we look elsewhere
such a long night:
as the ceiling fan turns
clock-time blinks red
sudden fog
look for a landmark
but all hidden
at temple door
incense in the brass bowl
turns prayers to smoke
notebook and pen
tells just where I've gone to --
poem-catching
afternoon nap
sun shines the entire time
without complaint
in this mist and fog
world now appears as it is:
the dream of a dream
that tall glass building
alone against the blue sky?
stately by default
beyond the far trees
a single hammer echoes
as others join in
Calendar lying:
how has another month slipped
past my open door?
cold winter rain
man on the balcony drunk
on someone long gone
a lightning flash
holds the Mexican desert
in a mountain gap
night after night
her old room
stays silent
tap on the window --
the finger of falling ice
looking for cloud-home
in the back booth
of the restaurant
she frowns at the check
he plays and sings --
his shadow on the stage
taps in time, taps
she always told me
that squirrels falling from trees
is a bad omen
the cloudless night
grins with a crescent moon
at those below
that one photo
stashed in a timeworn album
in distant storage
early Spring wind
blows last of the dead leaves
from their branches
winter night
old books on my shelf
make conversation
red dirt road
place it goes to
no longer there
my old room
in what remains of the place:
spirits, take your seats
cat on the bed
her tongue cleans black fur –
expecting guests?
with the leaf blower
he works along the sidewalk
coolness at his back
chopped wood on the ground
workers finish for the day --
tall pines breathe relief
the squirrel ignores
the cat in the window
who yowls in heat
father on death bed --
in kitchen, daughter and I
make a mess, laugh, cry
with city sunrise
the hidden birds calling out
their different versions
in the tall building
one window catches the moon
others get darkness
whoosh of a fan
footsteps in the hallway
with March night rain
the homeless man
twists palm fronds into charms
for some spare change
last saw a frog
when I was a backyard kid –
who broke what something?
on a mission
her nail picks a blackhead
I’m too old to have
man with a new coat
in street photo on display --
passersby ignore
dumping cat crap
in the dumpster –
sound of redundancy
kitchen drawer
holds the ring
given back so easily
coat on the hanger --
unsure I’ll wear it again
the last winter gone?
the crucifixes
he peddles at the tables
double as whistles
from my shelf
hidden in an old book
five twenties!
sparse yellow flowers
in front of the liquor store
frankly, do their best
with full moon watching
I smoke cigarettes until
no spark from lighter
spring falling away
a roach runs across my hand --
the bad blood numbers
city pigeons shunned
at dove family reunions
as embarrassment
written after having discovered pigeons are in the dove family
torn paper with diagnosis snatched by the spring wind
occasionally,
these aimless railroad tracks
/>
in some empty field
for pg
lavender blossom
flutters in the sudden wind
a bird taking flight
for lb
walked there
but walking back --
something I'd dropped
in the hospital
patient with carved wooden cane
makes his way past nurse
spring worker
paints inside of drained pool
aqua blue
from brown paper bag
the beer spread on the sidewalk
makes his mark on life
Buddhist monk serves
taste of monastery –
Big Red soda
sitting on the floor
reading the Book of the Dead...
my mother's bedside
those same notes again --
does that bird ever grow tired
of only one song?
triple horror show
lets out in the midnight fog –
I watch for Dad's car
here on the back road
cowboy trucks and red campers
pushed by a tail wind
this noon parking lot:
orange cones white stripes on concrete
everything but cars
gray pigeon drops in
as if he has to make
urgent announcement
new apartment
but the one I moved from
just now seems better
homeless man
with a handwritten sign:
Damaged Goods
wet leaf drapes
Buddha statue's shoulder
slow spring rain
another summer
without my father's gold ring
the one I lost
walking my way home
along yellow caution tape
left here by police
this autumn night
full moon winks off and on
the wind in the trees
early morning walk –
someone mowing a lawn makes
the smell of summer
from upper window
B. B. King with Thrill is Gone
flavors a still night
old neighborhood gone
cheap sign nailed to the last tree:
ad for EZ Loans
these apartments
require bulletproof vest
and party hat
her young heart?
valentine folded flat
the glitter gone
bits of the old wharf
where the moon and I once fished --
now wet with starlight
the woman bends down
quick scoop in the winter grass
her poodle's droppings
faceless and armless
mannequins sell bikinis
along store sidewalk
scrubbing the floor clean
opening windows and doors
makes the case for Spring
nursing home visit:
sip warm tea and wonder
is piano in tune?
having turned away
Buddha's stone face
only then I spray for bugs
what is life like?
jumping off a tower:
“So far, so good!”
on this spring morning
even the ghosts are silent
but they bow, fondly
black grackle
the yellow straw in beak
flies off toward home
store thinks I need it?
the book Life After Death,
arrives overnight
twice a day clock time I think of my dorm room number
gate in the wind
swings open and closed:
leaves come, leaves go
About the Author
Known as Dr. Mojo for his blues music, Robertson's most recent albums include Big Ass Buick and Storm Warning. He often attends Jade Buddhist Temple as well as his visits to several monasteries -- Buddhist, Christian and Hindu
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