                                                                             Orbis oculorum:
                                                                             Circle of sight from Mt. Penitente.
                                                                             I take Winsor Trail into the Ponderosa Cathedral.
                                                                             Below the stoney heights
                                                                             Canada Jay sentries
                                                                             like grey Swiss Guards
                                                                             monitor my progress
                                                                             up the steep incline.
                                                                             Through stained glass of green pine filters,
                                                                             sunlight mingles
                                                                             attenuated
                                                                             like the hushed reverent echoes
                                                                             of my footsteps
                                                                             as I climb.

                                                                           At last I break into the clear view
                                                                            from the summit:
                                                                            Spruce tonsured Santa Fe Baldy,
                                                                            Prelate of Nambe
                                                                            Orbis oculorum:
                                                                            Ravens herald pilgrim masses
                                                                            with swallowed, churling sounds:
                                                                            Thousands of lithe, nude aspen
                                                                            supplicants,
                                                                            leaves fallen,
                                                                            robe his rocky flanks,
                                                                            beseeching intercession before his granite throne.

                                                                             Orbis Oculorum:
                                                                             From Pecos to Pajarito:
                                                                             Plateau in the autumnsmokey
                                                                             distant Jemez haze
                                                                             over pinon peasants below:
                                                                             Witness to harsh Jesuits past.
                                                                             Northslope snowbanks:
                                                                             October’s earnest of avalanche to come.
                                                                             Lake Nambe gleams
                                                                             like a mitre’s opal
                                                                             far below
                                                                             in the valley cleft.

                                                                             As I gaze across the valley,
                                                                             my restive soul
                                                                             reviews recent
                                                                             life events:
                                                                            “Have a little guilt scarecrow!”,
                                                                             cackles the Wicked Witch
                                                                             of self-condemnation.
                                                                             Images of mi esposa antigua
                                                                             flash
                                                                             reminding me
                                                                             of my pain
                                                                             of her pain.
                                                                             Prelate Baldy grants:
                                                                             Absolution to my cringing soul.
                                                                             I am free to love again-someday.
                                                                             Tears finally flow
                                                                             joining the clear brook:
                                                                             Nambe’s tears
                                                                             Supplicant’s freedom.

Gumby the Cat

                                Gumby the cat
                                perched one day
                                fluffy in the early
                                winter wind
                                lurking in ferocious
                                Siamese splendor
                                as the chickadees frolicked
                                in vain hope
                                that dinner would
                                fly into her waiting mouth.
                                Tiring eventually of being
                                mocked by a meal
                                she slid silently
                                into the waiting wood:
                                ferocious no longer
                                as the birds laughed
                                and laughed.

God On the Couch

                                                                                               The god of my understanding
                                                                                               came to me one day,
                                                                                               lounged on the couch
                                                                                               and asked me why
                                                                                               I thought he was
                                                                                               angry and punishing
                                                                                               when what she really
                                                                                               wants is to show me
                                                                                               that he loves me
                                                                                               and others
                                                                                               without condition
                                                                                               without pretense
                                                                                               ‘cuz she made me
                                                                                               and made everyone?
                                                                                               I answered
                                                                                               that I listened to them
                                                                                               ‘bout what god is
                                                                                               ‘bout what god isn’t
                                                                                               and damned if I didn’t
                                                                                               come up with a warped
                                                                                               picture of god
                                                                                               ‘cuz yer really not
                                                                                               like that now are you?
                                                                                               In fact if you made me
                                                                                               if you made us
                                                                                               you even have
                                                                                               a sense of humor.
                                                                                               But I still have
                                                                                               a lot of questions.
                                                                                               “Some other time,”
                                                                                               god said,
                                                                                               as he sipped her tea.