Back on Turtle Island

a poem found by the side of the bed

there is nothing like

a cold glass of

water after waking from a dream

and surely as the damp pastel

of night leaks through your parting eyelids

a summers solitude will fill your head

with blades of reality and swirling

unanchored images.

and between your dream-stained sheets

you found a shred of what you loved about me;

how i could build a framework

of your mind 

and as you sipped 

a sweaty glass i returned the stories

to the lining of your throat.

Last Days in Oz

waking this morning

eyes still closed

I was home in New England

hearing my father down the stairs,

in the hallway

putting on his boots;

the echo of his morning routine

traveling through the old beams of the house

I smiled for a moment

at that old familiar feeling

but soon the sound was only

Tyler in the kitchen

cleaning dishes.

still here,

Australia.

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sunrise, star still in the sky

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Fun with Kangaroos

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finding the peacock

this croc was 17-18 feet long! i could fit perfectly (and conveniently) inside its torso!

blue winged kookaburra

other kooks

not an owl!