still in bed
Still Life: “Probably
it is a god-damned poem,” 
seen in the mirror.

in front of my home
after a quick break
it all begins again
pushing aside guilt
this time walk exercise
next time breathing emptiness

Oxford near Marin 
countable red leaves
still remain on the eldest
of my Three Trees— now cold rain

Mendocino Path
dressed for Christmas cold
a father & his son kneel before
their closed chicken coop

Mendocino Avenue
choosing my descent from the Circle
Black Path or Fountain Walk—
this time, Fountain Walk—
in either case Terrace Walk
is the two-leg pathway up— back home

Terrace Walk
a long-haired cat lopes
out onto the steep path up
behind a jogger
her strawberry blonde hair tied up—
I do try to watch them both— I can’t
but there! I see the cat cut away
and the jogger’s lovely run
rolls and rolls into memory