Thursday, April 26, 2007

godfather of bluegrass

for Bill Jorgenson, gone now

Sing us another

from the bluegrass, Brother

or from the blue sky above

you sang it clearly

and I loved it dearly

when I asked for

"On the Wings of a Dove"

- Ralph Murre

Saturday, April 21, 2007


listen to the stream
talking in woodland whispers
to the roaring sea


Wednesday, April 18, 2007


"God Has A Big Eraser"
said the sign at the Baptist church,
which surprised me a little,
since I didn't think a Big G
Baptist God would make many mistakes
but o.k., I figured
there might be some,
like if the Big G
really did create the Big W,
that might have been a mistake
you'd want to erase,
and AIDS probably wasn't
such a great idea,
and I wonder if
the level of desire
left in old men
was a miscalculation.
- Ralph Murre

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Saturday, April 07, 2007


now this wide highway
where crane danced and turtle slept
orange schneider trucks

- arem

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

A Celebration of Flight

Crow Ink by Sharon Auberle, 2007

You may be forgiven if you haven’t read Sharon Auberle’s first three books of poetry, (A Green Absolution, Sanctuary, and A Necklace of Birds) because you may not have known what a writer she is, may not even have known of the books’ existence. If, however, you fail to get your hands on a copy of Crow Ink, don’t say you weren’t informed.

Auberle is a poet who divides her time between a green peninsula of Wisconsin and the arid mountains of Arizona, between the teen-ager in her heart and the somewhat more mature body she inhabits, and between having her feet on the ground and taking to her wings, which only the most blind among us cannot see. In all this, she shows us the connectedness we share with the natural world (and, possibly, the supernatural), she floats comfortably in this foggy patch between past and future, and records her heart’s journey in an unashamedly romantic way.

In “Heron In Winter”, we can sense a little of Lucinda Williams’ sentiment as Auberle tells of a great bird stepping out onto thin ice, “. . .

. . .a connection in the season
when bird and woman
must leave safe ground, . . .

. . . it’s what we have to do
sometimes, to survive.
The sky is a mirror

beneath our long legs
but oh, beautiful sister,
where will you sleep tonight?

I mentioned, earlier, that she shows us our connection to nature and time, but it goes far beyond that for Sharon, who appears to be at the very center of it. For instance, in “Today On The Rocks” . . .

. . . listen:

one day you’ll be part of all this
and what binds you now
who makes you weep
will not even be a memory.
What will remain is this:

a flash of déjà vu, perhaps,
between strangers
a vague yearning in them for water
their joy in a river of stars
a rock pattern, the light on a wing
they stop to watch, translucent
as it catches the morning sun.

If you have grown weary of poetry that takes concerted deciphering only to learn that it means nothing at all, I must heartily recommend that you make the switch; go over to Crow Ink. To get your copy, contact Sharon Auberle at . (that’s sea underdash poet.)

“But, wait a minute,” I hear you saying, “isn’t that YOUR art work on the cover of the book?” Why, yes it is, thank you. “And isn’t Sharon Auberle a friend of yours?” Why, yes she is. “Well then why . . .” I see – why should you believe what I say about the merits of this book? – because it happens to be true.

- Ralph Murre

Another Good Thing

I'm proud to announce that some of my work now appears on-line at Passport Journal, a pretty classy site, if I do say it myself. Go check it out at