Monday, February 19, 2018

All Present

half past half future
barely any now

no past no future
all present

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Never 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. You thought wrong was the higher right, like Trump. (I can't believe I said that.) I was developing my taste so I could dispense with thinking. I thought I knew what people were trying to do, and why. Now I understand. I will never be old and never young.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

In the Dark

what I didn't say didn't fit
how she didn't 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

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Always

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.

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