© Elisa Lazo de Valdez/Corbis


Deep under this lake

there remains some vibration

of green and sky,

some summer of childhood

long lost.

I come here often,

slipping from my thin white tubes,

my stained sheets and straps,

the still minute

that inches toward me.

The water is calm and flat.

It knows me well. The

short circuit of my brain

matches the echo

beneath the surface.


this face

beneath the reflected trees

and mocking blue salvation

that stretches so far away

I sense the shape of things

stirring in their sleep.

The shadows are

gathering sticks.

I slip through

and down


there is music

in this descent,

deep earth water


Boston, 1989


  1. Wow you sure wrote a lot in 1989. I really like this one. I particularly like the image of

    the shadows are
    gathering sticks.


    the sound of

    there is music
    in this descent
    deep earth water

    will we ever get anything current or is poetry a thing of the past?

    • Wow! Thank you. At this point poetry is pretty much a thing of the past. HOWEVER, I’ve enjoyed unfurling these long-unread poems and tooling around with the accompanying artwork. I’m entertaining the idea of starting a sister site (called FIRES OF VENUS, why not) that would be devoted exclusively to poetry. I’ll make an official announcement at the end of April. If there is sufficient interest —say, a minimum of ten readers— I’ll do it. Though I won’t be able maintain a poem-a-day schedule!

      • I’m sufficiently interested to inject my 2 cents worth and say “Do it!”

        Really enjoying the poetry.

      • Thanks. Still haven’t made up my mind yet…

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