Writing

Maps

Photos

Seattle salt

Steep gray streets shrouded

with a thin gray blanket

not monotone, never monotone

regal masonry and towering glass spires

rising from the silicon forest, scraping the sky

with swatches of emerald everywhere you look

a gull’s cry punctuates the city’s still hum

a trolly’s steel rails grind, squeal

and yet the fog remains the loudest

the air - an atmosphere brined 

of oysters and uptown espresso

of the market’s sweet cold crab

of parks and p-patches

of naan and spice 

a delicate morning mist untouched by sun

It is life-affirming breath

from the streets lined with maple, plum, and cherry 

from the isles of distant conifers

from the courtyard hawthorne

all sway with delight

in the sight and smell

of the Sound.

desire

It pulls at our hearts;

a sweet aching song,

and gently guides us

to where we belong

desire whispers a promise

for needs unfulfilled,

and tugs at the soul;

both unwilling and willed

from craving to thirst 

to quick midnight snack,

a want that burns

for all that we lack

the deepest desires

that come from below

which challenge the concept

of all that we know

to succumb to desire,

submit and release,

forbidden, off-limits

primal urge unleashed

what is this surrender?

can we really “give in?”

is desire corrupting,

the original sin?

the truest of longings;

dark moon obscured

pure essence of self,

redemption ensured

from fleeting cravings

to yearnings profound,

in the furnace of desire 

the true self is found.

seabird

Among the towering trees

close to the crashing coast

unseparated from the fog

mist of brine

Alone on the shore side 

a wooden bench

enveloped 

gray spray 

A lighthouse's moaning tones

and swirls of light pierce

clouds, pierce branches 

reflecting, illuminating

Alighting into air

Down to the rocks

Without hesitation

Dive, cormorant, dive

Dive for your dinner

or give your body to the sea.