No one does night
as well as the night.
Which of us could hold
so many stars?
Especially the star
we call the sun.
I contain multitudes
is simply a good start.
We are not so large
to understand our emptiness
and how vital that emptiness is
for each point of light.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Down river
three pelicans
glided above
the dry riverbed.
I threw seeds
into the sky
to plant
new stars.
The next county over
resurrected
the dunking chair
for witch trials.
I crushed obsidian
into powder
and made a paste
to repair the night.
To fly in my dreams
I slept
on a crow’s
fallen feather.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Paul knew his way at night.
With his eyes closed.
With bare feet avoiding all the stubs.
The air currents by the Rio Grande were cooler.
The channel currents could be harsh.
Paul entered the water to float.
As weightless as possible on the water.
As gulls and geese slept.
As the heavens expanded wider than normal.
Cradled by the river he gave up
any resistance to any force reaching down
and investing him with something more.
A chore worthy of his own constellation.
A super power to save the world.
An almost unbelievable story to tell.
No moon looked down on him.
Countless stars viewed him
but his reflected image would be eons returning.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
My life rustles.
Doubt strengthens my faith.
The knife that wounds me
strikes mostly nothing.
My glass is full of hunger.
And the eruption of distant stars.
It is easy to think wind blown trees
swat the sky with their leaves.
I discovered this old slowness.
I embraced my obsessions like a prophet.
Cultural torpedoes
sunk my ship of state in heavy waters.
There I am on turbulent seas
afloat in the lifeboat of forgiveness.
Void and expanse are not good names
for what exists between stars.
My molecules are interested in being me
for only so long, then they go.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Trains in one hand.
Little stars in the other.
A thread connects salt crystals—
a single blue strand of hair.
An orphanage chain gang
constructs parental promises.
One massive container ship
exports all the broken doll parts to China.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
We walked into the forest.
So little moon we required a flashlight.
We walked with care.
Fireflies tucked themselves away.
One moth fluttered around the beam.
It was two slow miles to the clearing.
We sat on old cedar trunks the loggers left.
You looked at the darkness around your feet.
I turned off the flashlight eyes closed.
We counted in unison to three.
We looked up to the undiminished heavens.
The sky was ripe with stars.
The night was not dark at all.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
I traveled these United States
to see the wonders of the continent
and harmlessly flirt with cafe waitresses.
As I traveled I learned the word united
holds looser connections
than the dictionary suggests.
We are ten thousand cultures
based on personal freedom of expression
and dodging responsibility.
The stripes of the flag
might as well represent bloody bandages
on our collective social wounds—
not the original thirteen colonies
steeped in racism, genocide
and slavery.
I found the practice of religion common.
But it was mostly Sunday only Christianity.
Not something lived through each breath.
I met a great deal of kindness
but I was a tourist. Not homeless or single
struggling to raise a child alone.
On clear nights I noticed
the stars shone down upon all of us
with the same intensity.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
I was bathed
by the tidal rush.
As the water troughed
between waves
something
clung to my hair.
My eyes
refused to look
at what my hand
felt damply
in case it was
a star
fallen elsewhere
into the sea
and just now
washed
upon my head
mistakenly
believing I was
an astronomer
and knew its place
back in the
heavens
day or night.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Tangled chain gold snake
eats its own tail.
Barroom band
layers one song upon another.
Long ago playground scene
currently projects from my eyes.
Uprooted exiles arrive
summoned to a new world
take over bankrupt farms
turn the landscape in preparation.
Though you do not recognize it
the light from a billion stars
illuminates every daylight footprint
each leaf in the canopy.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
An idea turns my head
to the night-dark sky
and I ask, Why is Heaven
placed in all that emptiness?
I lost myself looking up
and fell into simple easy breathing.
I move to relax
under a late Autumn elm tree.
I notice how its slim branches
connect stars
the tips plug into the sky
and channel Heaven into Earth’s soil.
I reach my hand up, fingers spread,
to accomplish the same.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 