Tonight comes cold
A quarter bright moon
Purchases a silvery
Sentient moment
Upon the wet sidewalks and
The roads
The overflowing pond
And mud soaked path
Glisten soft
Underneath the vegetation
Resting, seeking
Refuge from winter storms
“Cold is relative,” I used to tell my father
(When pressed upon for a weather report)
He, in Utah
I, in California
This chilly night
A night on the California coast
Far from the high deserts of Utah
I can question the competence
The wisdom of assigning
Degrees to the
Reality of a mercurial justice
The simplicity of heartache
The kindness of community
The communal kindred of friends
The days that pass
Like still thermometers
Hung on porches
Waiting to catch
The many measured
Days of warmth
This cold theory of relativity
This article appears in The Council that Kicked the Hornets’ Nest.
This writer is simply brilliant. I love that you’ve included several of his poems over the many months I’ve been reading your paper. I’m only a part-time Humboldt resident and I always feel like I’m getting the sweetest, most perfect glimpse of my favorite northern California getaway when he writes about his thoughts, experiences and feelings from his perch up there!
Excellent work and I hope you’ll continue to publish him. A collection, maybe?