Barely Enough

sick of words what else do
who more like vacant pause
works will play cleanly dire
situation hopeless to adapt
illusion stubbornly struggle
stuck with this self after all
these years better than any
new decision barely enough

Running Away

poets grapple with experience
coming at them running away
not telling them what to think

writers grapple deploy words
like warriors idealize hopeful
notions in the face of mystery

if I knew more I would tell you
what small comforts balance
declining value failing wealth

This Belly

burping thanks for overfeeding us
again not ours but a loving family
worth enzymes tomorrow is diet

who cares I do easy give up wine
cheese additional coffee eat less
of whatever you're having better

not to feel this belly not give up
because I can tell know as well
this choice never hard to make

How Tell

there must be a now I'm here
with more past than future no
kidding aside how clearly see
and say what I think I mean no
other time divides good or bad
dark light real or didn't happen
how tell difference I can't read
between truth and the usual lies

Five Minutes

rise organize how small leaves fall
failing that rouse reasonable dids
given save starry might reconvene
who will come who care enough to

thus abruptly ends familiar sense
despite all signs to stop and yield
ending feminine is that a surprise
that variation is the clue to pattern

five minutes give admits reflection
glints of connection though others
thought the same thing by accident
and tell them what they want to hear

Every Name

tears from a book "2666" by Roberto Bolaño
years to remember every name spelled out
battles villages streets in different countries
and when he came to the door at last I wept

why is it already light I wondered unaware
that I had slept again I thought the universe
had slipped a notch or I mistook the season
some such silly me to lose an hour like that

A Letter

the cursor waits for a letter who
will write who read who answer

slower than my heartbeat were
I that calm could I think or feel

real emotions are the backdrop
luggage undertaken on purpose

what is the foreground writing
music reading being in my body

Like Butter

movies books are input like food
I don't need to remember to get
the nourishment if I liked it then
when hungry again read more
watch another DVD eat three
four five times a day this music
like butter on whole-grain toast

Wet Shavings

eucalyptus you grew too fast wobbly
on your roots like hard packed earth
not these wet shavings horse manure
ropes could not hold we cut you down

how do you prefer to remember me
young not judging any other age as
tasty smart confident of infinite future
time to perfect what might have been

The Real

if Orpheus doesn't mean something how
are we to be satisfied with many wanting
one or two possibly three and why is that

we live in a web of myths unrecognized
understood but dimly as if our own little
matters would suffice this once around

as if the present can define itself free of
ancient history as if blood fate destiny
were causes too complex to be the real