Too Old

 they are boring him to death
how has it come to this
how can he possibly stand it
he is leaking away
this time will not be regained
 
can this revenge be just
could he be that bad
forget about being president
he's been famous
take his word for it it sucks
 
sit here in this ugly room

all day doing nothing
he can't even stand up and leave
"haggard and rumpled"
too old for any of this now

Wide Open

 a rainbow in the rear-view mirror
is better than none at all or ever
to remember or look at it again
you did it once at least repeatedly
chased sexy Edenic satisfactions
to prepare you for the final act
when nothing works or matters
as much or in the same old way
it's raining again the sun comes out
there it is arcing across the meadow
before my failing wide open eyes

What's Left

everything is resolved
then what
what's left to think about
or do
I'm happy
satisfied
worried about the world
but nothing I can do about that
except vote
which is not much
personally I'm done
reading the last books I can see
with waves of pleasure
loving my family and friends
gladly sharing our luck
while we can
one tiny infinite life
cosmic multiplicity

New Idea

 I want to be sincere
without being sappy
is that too much to ask
save the irony for later
or bid it fond goodbye
say what I say clearly
ambiguity is OK but
obscurity just lazy
trouble to speak truth
that's the new idea
a reason to revise

Wild Things

now is this multiple moment
the singular of me writing
the many of you reading
mine and yours noticed
inhabited with being alive
 
we meet in meaning what
we put out and take in
smooth and jarring words
bouncing off each other
with or without intention
 
everything is interesting
if you are willing it let it
take you someplace new
where wild things are
waiting to eat you alive

Bad News

 where did we go wrong
it's not just me
the sense of decline is general
the young keep on
trying to ignore it
but a dire tone dominates
the news stays bad
the threats are real
and in our face
these are cataclysmic times
and getting worse
not better like athletes and musicians
who practice harder than ever
training to be perfect and to win

while they can
knowing it's almost too late

Solstice Fire

is reading and writing all there is
or only all I have to do, how else
let life flow through me as it must
 
that's the situation now, at least
after the winter chores are done
gifts and celebrations ordered
 
is this the letter I want to write
to my widely scattered friends
each treasured as unique with
 
private sharings and themes
we like to talk about, I wished
you here to see my solstice fire
 
burning merrily in the twilight
fog, the dimming world illusion
while the bright flames danced

Unfinished Business

 have I done the "necessary work
of mourning"? we never noticed
death, people simply stopped
appearing, transitioning to
dead at a respectful distance
 
occasionally a dead person might
appear for a day or two, never stop
popping up in dreams, alive again
their new death worse than before
 
maybe I mourned, but we rarely
talked about how it happened
as if everyone knew and was
embarrassed, it's embarrassing
to die or pay undue attention
 
the scattered few became a
multitude, and I didn't have 
time to stop and think about
each one, claims of the living
seizing and holding the stage
 
unfinished business piles up
I throw up my hands and
reverently let them slip away
if that's the work I've done it
 

More of the Same

 this is the sort of thing I say
over and over because I do, I
have to say something, it's my way
 
I always want to be clear, commas
help so why not use them, purity
doesn't matter once you've been abroad
 
it's almost dark already, time for
something else or more of the same
without apology, with hope for harmony
 
I try to like myself and hope you like me
too, try together to be honorably human
unconditionally qualified for heaven
 

First Step

 I want each reader to read each poem and think, "What does that mean? What was he thinking?" and go back and read it again, looking closely at its parts, and see what it make them think. Reading it aloud to people is pointless. Hearing its music is only the first step.