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.

Tuesday, January 02, 2018

Too Obvious

what I am actually talking about
often goes unmentioned as if the
real particulars are too obvious or
boring the inner processes more
meaningful than what happens in
real life without the artificial form
and careful structure of a novel or
play with acts and a denouement
unless something terrible happens

that isn't what you wanted to say

Monday, January 01, 2018

Stop Quick

I only know what I happen to know
my thought a scribble of ignorance
reading for pleasure and forgetting
trivially literate by social accident

stop quick before it is impossible
before translation replaces words
what can be said was already said
unless being me is actually different

Sunday, December 31, 2017

All Moves

year ends book of life finished
at last I am free to work or not

the farm at the end of the trail
represents another completion

love and friends surround me
longevity being its own reward

opportunity for grace abounds
all moves within staying still

Saturday, December 30, 2017

You Win

once you win
no point in playing
and what instead
admire existing
do something else
call up a friend
go for a long walk
think something
make something
aim for beauty

Friday, December 29, 2017

Meaning More

letter by letter words appear
like music or a movie's notes
or shots like a painter's daubs
accumulating into something
unique made of ordinary bits

a new thing exists that didn't
just arise application needed
to keep sitting there writing
cajoling it word by word into
meaning more than it can say

Thursday, December 28, 2017

No Purpose

if not now then never
later on is not at all
unheard melodies do
not count as music
unseen plays age out

posterity is hokum
probably always was
but especially today
art doesn't matter it's
money we care about

one needs an audience
otherwise no purpose
in working so hard to
be clear so someone
cares that it's sincere

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

My Leg

is this my leg
was it always
at that angle

Love Fumes

where I am is only here
what I brought with me
is all I have love fumes
lingering and renewed

I remember the feeling
fuel enough for a mood
independent of weather
but nothing else remains

returning find I am still
here keeping up my faith
in sensibility arising to
meet unknowable days