Sunday, March 11, 2018

Love Better

light an hour earlier flowers
blooming all about us warm
when it was cold the shape
of the body changes not so
tall or smooth or strong age
keeping up with the season
reaches even into my bed I
report facts without opinion
hoping optimism will arise
with the sun we both love
better after all these years

Saturday, March 10, 2018

A Window

now is a window
you can't open because
it can't be closed
savor the light and air

Monday, February 19, 2018

All Present

half past half future
barely any now

no past no future
all present

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Ever Young

Now that I am twenty-six, I feel older than ever. No one will believe what I say. We don't count, for example. Anything seems to mean something. Everyone else is younger than I ever was. Older people have forgotten what it was like to be alive. Horrible. You knew you were making a mistake but you wanted to do it anyway. You thought you could take it. Wrong was the higher right, like Trump. (I can't believe you said that.) I was developing my taste so I could dispense with thinking, thinking I knew what people were trying to do, and why. Now I understand. I will never be old or ever young.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

In the Dark

what I didn't say didn't fit
how she had to insist on being
herself in her own terminology
embarrassing missteps intimate
misunderstandings grotesque
attempts to obliterate desire
or find another truer way

what I didn't say saved face
the poet's lost illusion wasted
words jumbled into other sense
pain reinterpreted as pleasure
filth as a higher cleanliness
space as time spent reading
looking for another North Pole

what I didn't say stays lost
unexcavated ore undiscovered
as if no one had ever been there
looking for meaning in the dark
flickering word torches dropped
go out relit seem sadder still
not to have honored everything

Wednesday, February 07, 2018

Real Feeling

if I can change the words
does that change what is
knee strong skin smooth
has the Moor real feeling
the English Jew real life
can centuries' cruelty be
erased the earth reborn
innocent and perfectible
as an uncorrupted child
can what I merely think
remake a broken world

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Cover Up

impending disintegration his poise
shimmers in thinking how thin it is
how improbable not to be threatened
or houseless hungry sick and alone
only suddenly finally falling apart

this not to be talked about or blogged
not wanting anyone to know how I
feel when I feel this way cover up
keep warm drink plenty of fluids as
systems collapse and chaos reigns

Saturday, January 27, 2018


what time where I'll be there
if I'm not it's not because I
no longer care what you do
I'm as interested as you are
or would be if I had time to
and I do I always have time

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Still Arising

Thinking without writing is like fucking air — there's not enough pressure to make it count. It's not that I don't exist, it's that the day goes by and doesn't leave a mark. Not that it matters. The world is already scribbled over. A notch? An explanation or excuse? No one has to read it. I need to write, not edifices like Roth, I'm not a novelist, but honor passing time by registering its strange effect. Age is whatever you happen to be now. Less energy still arises.

Wednesday, January 03, 2018

A Note to Readers

I believe this is over, at least in the form it has settled into in the last five or ten years, the wispy little fragments of mostly self-reflective thought. It's getting to be a burden. I have shown that I can write a poem every day. If it doesn't arise in the morning, I can squeeze something out before bedtime. I can start with something random and almost always open it up into some kind of content. I am still engaged and tickled by the process, and I nail it fairly often, but it feels like I'm going around in circles. All these short poems have made it impossible to write any long poems. So I am changing the rules. I don't have to write a blog post every day. It doesn't have to be a poem. I may write stories. Thus this notice: that I am taking a few days off, but I'm still here, still writing, looking to renew this pleasing practice.