Changes

 Things disappeared from Amazon, and things will reappear again in a few weeks. I'm revisiting some of the things I've placed there, myself, in the past, and just updating and cleaning and improving what I can while the wind is high and the storms are blowing outside my window. It doesn't impact any of the major titles, but the ones I've done, myself, have all disappeared to be reappeared later, after I clear out the dust and blow off the old formatting. I've had some issues working with Amazon in the past, and these continue, and I will work through them all. I'm hoping to find a solution that works even better, and I hope it works.

I expect there are many broken links floating around the internet, now, and I will try to fix them when it is time for them to be fixed. In the mean time, go to www.vernacularbooks.com and see what else I'm up to, find good things, and share good things.

Peace.

Sonnet #327

Lazy as raccoons, the moon and stars extend

Into twilight’s curtain, and meander

In their nightly dance indifferent to the band there

Down below, the night birds and in toads, the end

Of all days could happen, and the moon ignores

All that is so small among the crowd of groundlings

Her dance is complex and beautiful and resounding

In revolving and positioning and restore

Pay no mind while dancing to the audience

Below, just dance slow and sweetly, languorous

Night — let the gentle threshold of the dalliance

Of this space between our fingers, arduous,

Ignore all of us, forever, and dance fair moon

When we stand upon your face, we swoon.

unsonneting

The feather tips of desert grasses paint

the misty morning shades of green and brown

against the fog and sweeping winds, the sounds

Of autumn come at last to this dry saint

A shrine inside the hollow of a tree

Where a candle of the lord faints

Take a long breath of this damp autumn

Full up with wind that has blown across the world

To the poles and back and back again

Inside the lungs of elephants and crickets

Born of the trees that drift to sleep or stuck

From passing comets where the gravity captured bits of burning tail

We breathe the centuries, we breathe the air of saints and kings

We breath and share this wind, this drizzle

That gathered moisture from our lungs and grasses until it fell upon the candles

Swelled in gusts and damp leaves to blow them out

The feathered tips of desert grasses dance for us

Against the grey cloud curtains

Blow out your candles, and grant some small applause