Thursday, August 27, 2009

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING

after the fog

gateway to open waters
and storms of the past

I can see it now
from the Berkeley Marina

an alter for this clear day
with my youngest napping in back

two arrows pointing

in the same direction as white sails
the Transamerica building lifting
from the crowding
and Mount Tam

away from earthly yearning to where
searching ends

while Oakland cranes bow
in various levels of praise

~j.b. rowell

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Saturday, August 22, 2009

MORNING WALK AS MUSE

the bridge is there

inside Indian Rock I know a man sleeps
in a cave with his own urine

pulls orange-gray clouds north
on the string of his dreams

while I keep looking
at where the Golden Gate should be

behind sunrise fog with an expression
you once noticed

when I felt the wind on my face
and smiled with my eyes

~j.b. rowell