May 13, 2021

Rain, sleep, snow, and the wellsprings of poetry.

My choice? If I had one, 

It would be to live like rain, 

Covering everything, bringing life.


Leave me, I want to sleep

Like a naked tree, silent 

And still the entire winter. 

When morning returns

Like spring I will awaken

And bloom once again.


More than 20 years have passed since I have seen or touched snow. This valley keeps me warm. My colors are all shades of green, not white. Moonlight on lush fields. Starlight on manzanita. Sunlight on the pines. Here in the California farmland I grow like the crops.


Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.

-Robert Bly


Ren Powell

Bait the Lines

Hardcore Zen

haiku eye

The Urban Mermaid

HOOT, a monthly literary magazine on a postcard

The Slowdown

clay and branches


Summer's End

Medusa's Kitchen

The Middlewesterner

The Morning Porch/Patio

VIA NEGATIVA, purveyors of fine poetry since 2003


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