Edges of mystery

Photo by Dan Fraser

Continuing in the tradition

of those who open letters

with a thin sharp blade

and who destroy with fire

to build the new

he employs his knife and fire

with the calm assurance

of one who knows the future

and the past

and the route between 

he is not smiling

this is his work and he does it well

he doesn’t know why

In the still

Photo by Dan Fraser

Something’s moving in the still

apparent darkness

something’s growing in the still

apparent light

someone’s speaking in the still

apparent silence


Photo by Dan Fraser

If there is red

are there eyes in the mirror

is the wind blowing

from no direction

can the eyes see anything

is there whispering

can you reach the smooth bark

of cedar trees

they are calm

they will listen

The drive through window

Photo by Dan Fraser

What comes pouring 

out of the night sky

may not be what you ordered

at the smokey drive through window 

of your mind

dandelions that spring 

into the mysterious memories

of your inner parking lot

bring more comfort 

than the dangerous weeds

in your dreams

The face of stone

Photo by Dan Fraser

The small might roll around 

the handles of the big

but do not bet against the tide

overcoming the power

in the walls of brick and stone

I wrote a message 

on the face of stone

just above where the tide retreated

in the morning

The flow of time

Photo by Dan Fraser

There is a surprisingly easy

flow of time

between the seamless slices 

of itself

as though the apparent movement

had no direction or goal in mind

as if there were really

nowhere to go

Heal the loss of hope

Photo by Dan Fraser

There is no method to repair

the broken vision of the lost

the only force that can heal

the bitter parts is love

but love  cannot be created

without the seed that waits

within the human heart

the love that heals the loss of hope

A figure emerges

Photo by Dan Fraser

A figure emerges

from the giant wind tunnel

of my life

the wind is blowing through me

as I move in and out of dreams

into the surface of where I am

the kettle has boiled

the tea is made

another day begins

The wall of ourselves

Photo by Dan Fraser


Does the clarity

we’ve all been seeking

come just before

or just after

we drive at one hundred miles

per year or was that per minute

into the brick wall

we didn’t see

or that we ourselves created

and placed as a target

in front of us

is the answer to this question

of vital significance

or meaningless

when we greet the great wall

of ourselves

and become truly alive

or truly dead