Old Times

mead read right there
receptors in action un-
rare learn In-Design I
don't think so maybe

without the Symbolists
where would we be I
think they knew opia
like I know old times

Necessary Trifles

message before breakfast key poet finks out
all day composing vengeful emails none sent
secret life of language hardly served by anger
over necessary trifles Denver paying more I'm
sure good reason bad move boo hoo cheer up
something else will happen after that another

poets pay attention to their complicated lives
without which nothing only let us serve them
gladly talk through every little aspect again
this is what Kelley lives for others bemused
wait their turn secretly thinking who knows
what if I had to do it again I probably would

Locked In

what are we going to do about you world
we must change our lives but we are locked in by systems
where and how we gain our necessities and pleasures is not our choice
(a good book is a necessity when traveling)
we are wasting and ruining Earth's limited supply of clean fresh water
the consequences are devastating and worse to come
savage capitalism in its greed is destroying everything good
oh world we must change our lives

Pale Truth

while you sleep the world goes on
you are not in it you are elsewhere
climbing high mountains from bed

what do people do
consider today's dead
broadcaster
jogger
activist
capitalist
sports announcer
photographer
gangster
singer
actor
singer
publisher
writer of lyrics
writer for children
pharmacologist
harmonica virtuoso
opera director
aviator
conservationist
journalist
ex-premier
scholar
prosecutor
nothing practical

we play at life entertain ourselves
imagine alternative realities body
motion pale truth of being human

Soft Breeze

I know about failure if you want to
compete you lose "turn fabulous" I
remember everything only vaguely

two thoughts and a twist finishes another line
extensible like Debussy like Nietzsche liked by
those I like Geoff Dyer the new like a soft breeze
allows express potential as the seasons change

shaved off slivers of the flux
make some of nothing doing
what is named does not exist
Monopoly houses rain cubes
time gestures through a mind
excused dismissed class over

Other Meaning

not finished merely over
on this plane we all agree

or we will be laughed at
unkindly if not locked up

no one understands each
other meaning who would

tune in reception clear if
anyone there to hear well

this moment alone one
has to be alone to write

Good Story

"I suppose that's the question, isn't it? That each of us ultimately faces? Whether we're skilled enough interpreters to make even minimal sense of our lives." —Brad Leithauser, "A Few Corrections"

a presence on YouTube infinite
distraction is the content the past
crystallized consuming time

it makes a good story is all you
ask yourself too busy for others
what was I thinking when I wasn't

only words transmit the body
tingling like a gong struck by you
susceptible to direct transmission

Who Reads

how can I back up my life where is
my hard drive and who will read it
who reads and what do they think
caring may be a thing of the past

that sounds desperate and I'm not
exactly but the situation is extreme
I am not the only one imagining it
in fact I try to pay it no never mind

still a certain mortality is hovering
a more than personal imperative
operating system-wide one by one
the only way it matters what you do

Stand Back

word-catcher like a sieve among stars
then what do you do with them pass
them on along time-bound highways
to happy heaven dreaming of wonders

everything is plural if you like to be
taken for more and less contrary to
becalm bedevil worship multitudes
aspire to mean more than can say

castaway self-spoken goes for less
whatever happens next cannot undo
the work as written stands you speak
into the matrix stand back and laugh

Who Are You

if my life is a novel I am a
character in it not necessarily
the narrator is that correct
who tries to see more clearly
tries to explain what he thinks
happened who everybody was
tries to be objective about himself

who is telling the story and why
wanting to be a novelist enough
if you think so who are you
anyway the narrator is the key
whatever it is the voice a person
who can capture your attention
you have to read something

and novels are better than film
at least they last longer which is
better than life more focused
except around the edges more
trustably shaped an artist
playing with your mind making
something pleasing to believe

For Love

am I hoping or hopping
moping or mopping the
older I get she said the
better I feel fascinating
woman it occurs to me
that anything can happen
I forget am I coping or
copping poping pooping
out now that it's spring
we can do anything we
please thanks for love

Perfect Pitch

eyes wide open sting avid to see more
art movies read more books information
one of several suspect words what is it
covering up what can possibly be known

Harry Koutoukas smart as anyone can be
raised human condition to perfect pitch a
prince of bohemia crystallized flawless
loved me then and ever isn't that amazing

Better Partying

familiar music replaces quiet pleasures
fading with the season savaging the day
I reckon without pants a situation changes

better partying with blows contary to my
usual practice tines bent to new purpose
beyond standard tuning he steels himself

tragedy behind episodic livingroom drama
crowned with gold feathers flying panthers
dressed up grown-ups deny possible ballet

more than that I cannot say what I will do
if I know I owe it to you to be clear fact is
mind even if sunrise inexplicably delayed

This Gift

what is made up can be forgotten
part or whole but never not exist
real as anything finally goes away

eventually you understand little
more than not at all besides what
difference does it make in amber

light does not fade except with
distance squared off limits unto
these this gift is given forever

Far Beyond

transforming energy to the rescue
as if you could jump at will to other
worlds of course you can and do
you dream and wake up shocked

as if the flow state lasted forever
as it does of course in Schumann's
piano quartet continued interests
not exactly shared but recognized

what science says goes far beyond
what you learned as a child more
emerging every day reality layered
thoughts more powerful than facts

Serious Attitude

blue snakes wriggle over tiles at
the bottom of the pool ah Gide I
give myself to reading you in bits

brave writer says more than he can
get away with nobody finally does
go deeper into what it's really like

with serious attitude drawn from
intense experience context easy
now that he made it all possible

For You

just read it
let it into your mind
don't think about it
don't try to figure it out
don't make any special effort
just read it
I really wish you would
it's for you

Perfect Time

body ignores hour shift moon dark
dawn chill phone alarm confusion I
march ahead in perfect time others

we went out for a beer after poets
brave souls charmingly themselves
despite many decades dead still live

increasingly approximate even so
some comfort homey welcome to
the future present willingly fooled

No Match

sick undoing could be any other heart
even briefly feels like all over miserably
squirming mind no match breathe out

describe what doing to a sympathetic
salon as if it matters when the night
closes body loses to a hidden misery

eventually it's late enough for sleeping
cure the usual dawn dream family doc
in Minnesota eager to know what goes

a mystery not to be revisited a ghost
of himself guarding secret inner fear
inevitable defeat surviving victory

Last Word

I crawl under the bed looking for
"peace without sorrow" forget it
for once the body has last word

sink into my chair longing spring
sprinkle on the skylight flotsam
more photographed than seen

some synthesis near the floor a
theory of everthing centers on
gravity anchors frivolous path

seriously the dead are still there
living already image of oneself
the same idea happily unspoken

Excess Doubt

does the subject not matter at all
or is it everything is this true or its
opposite either is all right with me

someone cares or if not it makes
no nevermind investing all returns
makes the most of what you have

even so it is ultimately nothing to
reckon with where everybody is or
not if so introduces excess doubt

Jerking the Covers

I dream of working at my old jobs
at the Voice at the harpsichord works
at City Hall the architecture changes
the cast is different Bloomberg mayor
my typewriter desk major characters

I dream of being at work with nothing
to do that was the worst anything to
do freed me from myself even if I
hardly knew how to do it do my best
was good enough for government

any subject seems repetitious even
if rarely the context ever shifting
like trying to get comfortable in bed
without jerking the covers or making
a scene and waking up even more

Your Song

if behavior is mutable act natural
if behavior is character where do
you go for guidance if not church
bar book expert attention advice

but how can you take it you know
yourself so much better than any
inevitably ignorant of key details
act this way because of who I am

life is not an act persona practice
conditions fall into patterns slow
decay like a grand piano only one
chance to make it sing your song

Ancient Water

forget everything except the game
forget music and tomorrow's tasks
spooked by a sudden sound in the
next room no one is there is there
anything the same to get you going

or something else every day arising
as if called impelled a sticky pattern
think what you will the well is deep
ancient water waits for you to drink
it will heal you wash you rise again

and another sister brother in India
again and for the first time amazed
forget the game it is only metaphor
if you are sleepy give in if awake get
up and do what this moment asks

No Peers (for H. M. Koutoukas R.I.P.)

insignificant droplets hardly qualify as tears
yet wet
surely this life registers as one successs after
another
delirium replacing clear brilliance placeless
in a time of no cenacle no peers or academy
to fight back

what can you do no one knows the difference
Aristotle not the same
as if classical Greece was only an idea
forgotten
standards hardly anyone appreciates thirty
no forty years later

Olympus
is a church worth worshipping
human values in a time of money first
you write
and then you act it out
and then you go on being living
if you know what I mean

Odd Fellows

what am I forgetting how to
lay out the cards what odd fellows
small town life attracts women too
how to play together by myself

I remember but not well enough
what I never knew how to learn
others knowing the game is on

think of that while practical
uses multiply obligations swiftly
feeding urban appetites easily
recognizable by aging peers

Our Nature

how do we keep it up year after year
minute after minute refreshing our
wardrobe appetites hope desire for
everything it is our nature in reality

where else can we live but where we
are ourselves or manifest any other
who else be this particular fiction is
in fact physically mentally existing

Borrowed Robes

an apple completes the day's chewing
something else is tempting but not so
much that I can't resist if I want to do I
yes my indulgence policy is getting old

Hamlet reimagined doesn't have to die
only his father dies in borrowed robes
dies twice in fact I choke up reading it
out embarrassed by my own emotion

Name Changes

here come flowers again
need I name them name
changes easier than not

you still you me me but
otherwise shifting mood
swings on a high branch

then it's time up to you
to answer high notation
shift weight and move

Still Beating

the piano sings Debussy my hands
permit some glimpse of the music
only a century separates us young
Matisse works hardest catching up

how anything is known without an
academy realized too late what you
needed to know no teacher broken
heart missed the point still beating

who knew what he might have been
if only fame could measure which
truth consoles impossible desire
for nonexistent one right answer

Too Young

quick bunny grab air
city money funny way
talk around it vote for
kids assembled touch

no wonder wandering
can't wait to get away
too soon too slow too
young to understand

I want to scream but
smile against words
deployed to obscure
general helplessness