running through rainwet morning
sheen on sidewalk and road
i make my way through
the gigantic trees of columbia park
on the way out and my way through again
on the way back and
feel heart-opening
to take their mighty spirits in

happy february first shiz says
patting my raincoated back and
i pat back saying the same
as we sidewalk home

gina packs a pint of
kraut for my travels while i sing
kraut, kraut, let it all out
these are the things i can
do without c’mon


goodbye shine
in shiz’s eyes to match
the rainwet street/sidewalk glimmer

daphne and some other
first spring richsweet scent
permeating the amtrak parking lot
i pluck a few blooms
and shiz says it’s portland
farewelling me / sending me off

sheen of fresh-shined boots
propped up on backpack
at seat #2 (in the back of the
last car of amtrak’s coast starlight
(train 11) southbound

i say intentional community and my seatmate
shikar says sandhill and i am stupified
at this mutual knowing, which, turns out
doesn’t end there
(amy goodman/that program is my lifeline
she says to the outside world)


this world, i type, (as gauged by
this small stretch of it) is so
wondrous and gorgeousness-laden
i can barely take it, but i do
and feel my ribs cracking open –
a wideness
a space big enough to perhaps let
the giant proportions of beauty in


past dusk (dark but not fully night)
so i can see the suggestion of
a river expanse stretching
north-south and the mountains
that rise beyond and
a thin cloud/fog blanket
stretched across
we are going through the deschutes national forest
i overhear someone say in the back of the car
on a conference call