Doing Well

even the present ends in the new
as if vowels could carry the show
this actual breathing be different

then it becomes something else
you suspected all along it would
never promised to be permanent

even so you are surprised again
undone in a sense by doing well
what you thought would suffice

answers pertain to another now
gone reopens earlier questions
who what where when not why

No Excuses

poetry can be better
and do more
tell stories
bring people alive
break your heart
no excuses but
isn't there room
to do less
and still be good

Worth Eating

what you would say
if you said anything
is as crudely inferred
as if you had said it

everything revealed
nothing noticed no
attention too busy
with our own lives

spin your web for
satisfaction don't
expect to catch any
thing worth eating

Whirling Past

nothing has changed but me
my position in time shifting
as universes spin around me

and you each of us our own
singular still center content
whirling past cellular public

none can be wholly known
existing only in becoming
buoyed by a turbulent flux

My Skin

it's only a movie not fade away
still gets under my skin I perch
on the edge of the foldaway watch
for something more the beauty
of the young cast enough James
Gandolfini as the father in this
parallel reality clumsy contrived
unconvincing enters my dream

In the Middle

with this momentum nothing can go wrong
with ironic optimism knowing better worse
things inevitably happen before you know it

say what it is while you can still remember
what it was like to be in the middle of it all
still buoyed by unstoppable seasonal flux

Like You

anyone can follow my thought
if it's worth it anything else is
too similar to be same like you
or me enjoy each other anyway

not so hard to see what is said
twice is typically half as true
patterns once revealed resist
nothing that promises pleasure

What You Love

what you don't know is not part of anyone's necessity
negative piled on negative eventually enough to levitate
call me when you know what you are having for lunch

every day the same tai chi an image of steadiness like
chickens variations on one basic personality function
each time newly discover you are doing what you love

Better Knowing

the quality of quality abides in taste
class albeit crudely expressed that it
might be better lacks confidence in
its own better knowing limitations

one dare not speak openly of art's
interior not a solid like a ziggurat
gassy liquid oozy frothing warmly
enacting modesty we blunder on

New Norm

deserving whether it exists
is not a justification because
doesn't follow from sequence
definition is beholden to time
error becomes the new norm

so there you see the situation
a list of adjectives passively
rejected for reason unknown
I know it isn't what I say it
matters more in the abstract

Your Best

it all works out
maybe not the way you want it to
romantic ideal
something else inevitably happens too
how can you know
you take the chance and do your best
something results
informed creative unexpected alive

Get Well

art can be anything you say
if you think about it straight
who can deny a right of way

craft can be bad taste lags
behind the best intentions
sorry you are lame get well

how can one not allow it all
don't try if you aren't great
muds time's illusory denial

A Simpler Way

promise what you can
do as you say you will
be better than you are

forgive innocent lapses
not the unforgivable
money power politics

conceive a simpler way
correct errors of tact
embrace uniqueness

recognize community
we orbit each other
succeed as a system

Who What

Men and women are equally prey to assumptions they don't know they're making, expectations they take for granted. Some of these we adopt as convenient habits; others, more fundamental, sneak up from below, from our parents, from our bloodline, from the cultures we are part of and can't help expressing. Who is what to the children, who is responsible for paying the bills and keeping the stove going and food on the table, how to take criticism ("keep both your hands on the wheel"), who initiates lovemaking and how often, who yields on which point, it's easy if you remember how funny it is, but it isn't easy to get there and stay there. You are not always going to agree, even clear. It's not just gender. Two of the same are also different from each other. And if they weren't, how boring is that?

Fatal Flow

do I understand the causes of
fill in the blank what is cause
or choice but make the best of
what arises or devolves in time
fatal flow a state of certainty
if something else doesn't act
the four forces always with us

Some People

what happened was too much
talk and driving in heavy fog
the mind wincing skips a day

what happened was a party
perfect except for the noise
talkers outshouting the music

some people never let up you
have to put just up with it or
get out of the way tout suite

Dark Green

if this is daylight
I'm obscurely miffed
as if misled about
another's feelings for me

turn up the levels
for heaven's sake this
isn't Greenland after all
though largely dark green

Acid Rain

who you knew then is gone
or doesn't remember details
erode like sculpture in acid
rain fell when I was young
the same water over again

our well is still drinkable I
prefer not even think about
future possibilities elapsed
unused like dated coupons
might have salvaged more

Be Ready

let us now praise famous friends
who did so much for us when we
were young no one ever heard of
them or us or if they did forgot it
still it mattered then and still does
taught us work play tell the truth
be ready when the moment comes
unknown to anyone but ourselves

Which Party

was that today they blur
I should be embarrassed
but I'm hardly the worst
which party shall I go to
whose example follow
question without answer
still is worth the asking

Beyond Theory

life long art short
Arcadian illusion
ill-fits modernity
speaks by chance
beyond all theory
privileges comfort

Higher Ground

I packed in a rush for a flight from Italy to India. After I left the house I realized I had left my sunglasses behind, but there wasn't time to go back. I got on a bus and rode through the countryside. Looking out the window I saw a small trailer detach itself from the back of a car, roll across the highway, and come to rest in a field. I wanted to tell the driver, who hadn't noticed, but had no way of signalling. Almost immediately he pulled off the road, not thinking about the trailer, pulled a tarp up over his windshield, and went to sleep. Part of the time I was on foot, following a young backpacker along a raised narrow footbridge with many turns. He was too slow. I asked him if I could pass just as the walkway turned steeply upward to go over some houses on higher ground. I wondered if I was on the right bus. At one of the many station stops, I got off and went inside and asked someone, "How do I get to Sicily?" I didn't mean Sicily; I couldn't remember the name of the airport town. Out the window, I saw the bus slowly pulling away. My suitcase was on it! On top of that, I had forgotten to pack my passport. I really couldn't go without it. I could get my sunglasses too when I went back for it. Then I thought it was probably in my shoulder bag, which I had with me, where I normally keep it. I had rushed outside. A man from the bus was standing there with a small jumble of luggage. That big black suitcase might be mine—I couldn't remember exactly what it looked like—they must have left it for me. I rummaged in the pockets of my strangely empty shoulder bag and found my passport. "Here it is," I said to the man, holding it up. I picked up the suitcase, which was unexpectedly light. "That's mine," he said.

Inner Work

"Each of us finds lucidity only in those ideas which are in the same state of confusion as his own." —Marcel Proust

days of no record might not exist
memory doesn't serve well enough
the day before yesterday vanishes
like a dream forgotten in the light

still something is learned by doing
the inner work is porously conscious
return and the thought has advanced
the unknown problem simply solved

Present Care

presentable drips keep water fluid
even though it's not as cold animals
have to drink we attend their needs

sufficient up to a point we do well
to value each other's present care
more than practicalities suggest

pleasure is the underlying issue
if we're warm and have enough to
eat we share our water with others

Hot Food

if I do this now I can do that then
clarity of starlight heralding cold
animals can stand it we need gas
steady electric power for the fans

powerless we would be helpless
running to friends' warm shelter
the Müllers shivering last winter
spent most of that week in bed

I count on comfort while I can
hope systems survive while I do
unprepared to live in cave or tent
grateful insulation and hot food

Ring On

Bicky blond Buffy doesn't it all fit
as if sounds hold a shaping power
as if names per Proust do ring on
they do indeed tell their own tale
echo more than anything they say
among themselves secretly to us

Lit Crit

too many writers
too many books
why go on

How Hard

let me hear from you
I know how hard it is
no one else's business
no way to really help
everything else is real
we don't even have to
talk about it just come

My Epitaph

not smart enough
can be my epitaph
I was smart just
not smart enough

Talk Later

I want to talk about myself
so do you I want to think
about myself you're trying
to be friendly openness is
good driven from my chair
space I retreat to the other
end of the house talk later
trade listening if we can
stand making allowances
each our inescapable age

Faster Past

passing madness takes many forms
whether whither withers faster past
call me if you can speak truthfully
what is not said somehow appears
illusory independence breaks loose
morals distracted energy of scrapes

Filial Continuity

wet clear garland weather carven
figures from all over the world
dance remembered rituals again
recognizable enthusiasm shared
implies natural filial continuity
stumbling toward some reality I
can't grasp what anything means

Too Much

too much music
scatters focus gathers
dust on my piano

too many books
absorbed then forgotten
crowd my shelves

too many moves
confused with each other
blur my soul

pure but empty
processing possessions
not only mine

Specific Beauty

open arms heart ears mind
hardest music only specific
beauty clashing harmonies
pulsing surges steady rise
surprising ideas carefully
constructed lend pleasure
it would be good to share

Better Time

wouldn't one rather be Dr. Ruth
now I mean not back then when
things were much worse for her
how do we add up the suffering
is this a better time statistically
how about for you personally

Hard Hearts

cold music warms hard hearts
melt with pity is that allowed

not everything needs saying
but something must be done

not that anything will help
more than coexistent being

They Say

when they say adult
they don't mean me

Making Sense

thinking I can't think nothing new
what can I be thinking thinking is
some clarity like clarity I glimpsed
words assembling themselves high
maybe ideas flying from my brain
thick as birds transparent as water
revelatory thoughts making sense

more usually all is more like mud
coming into the house on shoes I
should have more to say than I do
my mind is idiosyncratically blank
imperceptive stumbling oddly dull
as if I had no riches I want to share
but I do I open up give it all away

Random Snaps

obscure relevance requires proper attention
otherwise the cook's pleasure suffers a loss
the annual pudding pumpkin pie not made
other attributes reinforce appropriate tears

a tissue of trivialities unmasks the old lady
across the street getting ready to go to bed
reveals random snaps of mindful lightning
art is having something to say and saying it

oh let the words be what they are meant for
let them exist more than referential entities
mean less than paint flung or brushed can
show without telling quite the whole story

Too Rash

did I say what I think or
only think it was it heard
and understood was I too
rash did another day pass

apparently so and nothing
was recorded or the media
changed a forgotten novel
lost between the programs

if I don't remember what
happened did anything
does anyone know more
than everybody used to

Not Boring

it is not boring to be happy
want nothing to happen
everything stay the same
now that you finally got it
right and when it doesn't
you will have had this

An Organ

skin is an organ mapped
by tingles itches rashes
points of interest marked
in red seen or felt obscurely

flushes of sensation call
attention to a thigh a calf
face a palimpsest one life
etched in line and texture

cold warmth wetness even
light registers its presence
while absent in comforting
sheets cloth salve or touch

Buy New

"There always is a way." —Merce Cunningham

good clothes never wear out
I love to wear new ones what
a dilemma sweaters wear out
but how many sweaters can I
stand to have shelves clumped
tired of all my shirts I should
give them all away buy new

Draining Hoses

another day so quickly past
before I could think or stop
or go on doing what I did

I am neither here nor there
remembering making new
friends inclined to excess

it all added up some way
wasted effort to the good
time spent draining hoses

are we ready for the cold
or not mad to move north
sentimental over seasons

Slow Motion

say she sighed as she sat sewing
or another equally perfect sentence
if you can think of one Virginia
Woolf more modern than anyone
since we are all over doing that

who could concentrate enough
or write that fast or slowly unfurl
slow motion is not a natural effect
what is the time already run out
so she said sighing as she stitched

More Plot

did I or not remember whether any
people's feelings changing moment
raining women losing their balance

such sense might be found wanting
more plot less musing characters
developing diseases runny noses

that would not be amusing murder
mixed with madness comedy pain
excusing desperate last-minute-itis

One Thing

if I am doing one thing
I can't be doing something else at the same time
but I can do one thing after another

if I am doing one thing
cleaning the house say
and thinking about something else
writing say
I am not actually doing either one

one then another
then another after that

New Mistakes

perfect clarity reveals underlying confusion
what we learn later not necessarily more true
new mistakes made when old ones corrected
everything I can say not quite it close a probe

fact quivers as impaled only feelings count
as in a dream the factual story lacks all point
projected backward forward meets the present
time absolute and solely existing in the mind

Ways to Be

practice optimism learned in stress
not all good or bad news stunning
contradictions reshaped as ways
to be and go forward or in circles

Our Youth

(in memory of Joe Cino)

just because I'm still alive
doesn't mean I'm older
than you were when you died
our youth preserved two ways
your perfect timeless image
and me continuing to evolve
your lessons and example
still ringing in my mind

Hard City

o New York brave doomed
still striving achieving great
showplace of transcendance

hard city serious art money
foregrounds mocks survival
desperate largeness dwarfs

heartbreaking willingness
to struggle against all gods
enjoy oddness further hope

What Answer

almost nothing remains
the sudden alarm abrupt
the mad adventure over

do we all differ so much
noticing fine distinctions
the only hope of decision

billions of variations on
a relatively simple animal
we are really all the same

chickens are all the same
cats and dogs all different
to a certain limited extent

I am still alive wondering
what new question to ask
what answer will satisfy

Whole Story

writing is conversation in which I
get to do all the talking does it matter
that no one is listening the way we
all want to be heard and understood
there is so much to be explained you
can never tell the whole story all my
correct opinions continuing to develop
as we speak

First Time

a new game
I win the first time
never again

Called Off

drive on through the night
when the wind feels high
the stars nigh on winking
my hand soft on your thigh
fly home before the sunrise
wake me with a tender kiss
feast me with lilac flowers
rewarmed by an April sun
sing to me of specific acts
committed with no remorse
to precede the main event
which has been called off

In Concert

brown bread cream cheese and walnuts
a taste of New York in the early sixties
before everything else could happen to
change all my habits and desires learn
better ways to eat pray love and work

never just me I no longer need to ask
I the mature embodiment of my time
overripe with memories outnumbering
new events contextual only to myself
each other center equally self-defined

what to conclude from these reflections
that only in concert can we amount to
anything worth mentioning in context
of great masters who have gone before
opening up the possibility of expression

Unseen Rooms

not just what but in what order
can facts told without context
be understood correctly right
the first time it was forgotten

chaos is the wrong alternative
abstraction's perilous dullness
overheard in unseen rooms is
there someone there I know

what I mean is clear enough
your own thoughts equally
valid until obsolete criticism
authenticates immediate art

In Joy

words have nothing to say
about music love pictures
feel most of my thinking

the body says don't forget
pain discomfort sickness
distracts at a certain level

parallel lives within one
past present strata coexist
emergent spent in reserve

why am I saving anything
goes faster than I imagine
a grand unification in joy

Looking Around

bee-busy
steady tempo
always looking around

some don't
notice everything
you are being watched

wait on
social buttercup
too suddenly awake

Broken Premises

each person poised
grippingly active
without looking
or looking around

each moment full
emptiness averted
plan performed as
if something else

each action needed
fulfillment guaranteed
satisfaction on deck
equipment cocked

each idea swims
past questioning
broken premises
conceptually served

Fading Light

mere womb forms acts
one two three a movie
beginning middle end
seen in these terms you

from there moving on
interiors seventy scenes
picturesque cities ideas
in the midst of action

back in your own bed
you seem to wonder who
made fiction move ahead
time shift feet still walk

must I know or say what
needs to be heard again
past interest home love
fast answer fading light

Another Metal

what is left but another metal
titanium or zinc another life or
person with distinct qualities
that might explain everything
like who I might have been
or expected you would like
is it enough to make a poem
witty and specific and wise

Still Obscure

breaking even is hard to do I quipped more truth than wit
yet somehow blunder along thanks to lucky circumstance

I lost thousands producing plays price worth paying then
stopped earning lost less on books finally almost nothing

how will it all play out what stages lie ahead still obscure
every day a different fog berry flower frost ache arousal

Not It

who is human reading more for
fundamental understanding who
else is here what are they doing

question everything you think
who is thinking what matters
most others can well disagree

simply say what you believe
true for you that other people
are different you are not it

Stern Reproof

I can say anything I can
do I used to think anything
and by now I mostly have

but just because you liked
it once doesn't mean you
have to keep doing it

again the limit of body
not to mention thought
asserts a stern reproof

I can still say anything I
like saying what I like
assuming I can have it

Forever Starting

did I miss a day
I did reading Carol's
early life makes me
think of mine too

this is who we were
what we expected
then we grew up lived
what have we learned

all that matters is now
and the next now
forever starting from
where we actually are

A Tardy Nap

another story tells itself
about elephants rhinos
and anything else that
occurs to a three-year-old
I listen enthralled

I can't do that myself
just let it come out or
down for a tardy nap
hoping to be able to walk
to the restaurant table

fly away before it all
falls down again hideous
growling loss of life
everything is broken
that seemed so perfect

Beautiful Story

to make my life beautiful
move beautifully in time
beauty is serene balance

energy flows may fluctuate
sometimes dramatic wild
other times even calm easy

make beauty of realness
actualities in conference
beautiful story self-telling

Distributed Centers

the pattern of action demonstrates
no is what's going on unrevealed
language its own world complete
transparence the nature of being

character and dialogue yield to
action implies feeling motivates
whatever anyone says reasoning
emerges after the choice is made

see what you do the only way to
know if nothing does nothing else
notice the pattern as if everything
coheres around distributed centers

A Different Cast

sorry forever that I fell out of your life
just as I was falling in love overruled
by "reality" I had to do something else

and someone else was there available
housing sex food art appreciation only
goes as far as poetry can be imagined

what either of us might have written
read plays now with a different cast
characters I never would have known

All Yours

if you want to be an artist
you'll need to have ideas
and act on them this last
is the crucial ingredient
acts are ideas embodied
most unsayable in words
which only hint and point
possible meaning all yours

Who You

how could I embrace no opinion
being a critic was my livelihood

having filled I'm ready to empty
no-thought comes naturally now

I don't know what you should do
what is should what do who you

One Plate

feverishly writing doors opening
closing days trip seasonal ops
nothing saying whether meaning
not occupied unable unwilling

all negatives excuse silence
cosidered deep or final times
two or more share one plate
wrested from disoriented smoke

High Heels

beer better than nothing
for the long bare night
context the city where life
goes on as if it will last
necessary striving to live
well as others seem to do

this is not the world I know
now so energetic successful
competition whetting appetite
temptation to style realized
in jewels high heels struts
pretending not to notice smiles

Higher Harmonies

constant goodies keeps my
balance always first concern
comfort regular habits meet
expectation rhythmic orbits
dislike bumps or omissions

so I hardly dare move lest
the beat falter cream runs
out I forget key ingredient
the cake doesn't rise party
ruined careful don't trip in

fact none of that happens
I'm just riffing on my own
elaborate self-indulgences
striking higher harmonies
now while we're still alive

Dancing Away

never flash moment of satori
I keep awakening again again
having absorbed the teachings
then forgetting then remember

bandwidth narrows immediate
problems fill up feeling mind
as if there is nothing else no
more elevated considerations

everyone knows deeper lives
connected to ultimate source
power making things happen
whether we like it or approve

chop wood carry water clean
house cook dinner wash face
smile be happy brother sister
generations dancing away

Takeover

trucks conspire take over
hardware serves software
as the body serves the mind
organic unity vs. machine

the underlying flow cannot
be stopped forget it go on

Empty Beds

no ruins in Oregon fallen
castles walled cities moats
here former civilizations
left no permanent marks

offensive New York high
rising asking for it empty
beds parked money eye
candy views unobserved

damaged planet cannot
recover like each of us
abused in using all we
are to make all we can

old story long ago lives
toiling animal human
structured stones remain
stories of making lost

Quiet Events

pushing toward the threshhold of severe
scares the sleeper wakes rises early six

early enough for another slow seasoning
with friends interrupt their own agendas

thirty-seven triggers beeps I have to track
forgetting last year and the year before

weather's traces lost among many quiet
events accumulate errors as well as joys

Too Late

what is going on is mine to figure out
how much will be disclosed and when
is it already too late to start doing what
might make a critical difference in the
outcome no one else interested in how
it feels although nothing matters more

One Blink

saving savage vacancies
denies value denounces
higher claims contested
furiously cleaning plain
rooms full of yesterday

last summer's preserves
emerge flavorful intact
households keep some
continuity temporarily
like one blink one eye

Small Boxes

A handsome mahogany cigar chest with nothing in it but the humidor apparatus. I put it away in the Chinese trunk, which is a jumble and makes me deeply uneasy, papers, small boxes, a wadded up baby afghan. Someone ought to straighten it up but this is not the moment. I set the box in on top of the mess, hoping it doesn't stick up too high and interfere with the missing tray. A large rectangular space that could be either a lawn or a swimming pool. Oppressive paternal authority lurking about. The feeling attached to the symbol, the symbolism obscure, random, meaningless, meaninglessness itself a symbol attached to a feeling. Inescapable circle, reality itself, consciousness perched like a bird on a twig. The tree itself growing, dying, the air and light ever changing, not always navigable or comfortable. Get used to it.

One Day

it's all one day
stars included
how can I be
positive fresh
leaping ahead
feeling as I do
what I always
imagine right
wrong answer
move quicker
be quite still
listen closely
open to pain
old pleasures
morning again

Wild Release

oh take me away from this
complicated body seasons
music transport me where
else there is beauty rapture
easy flowing then dancing
wild release someone else

this is how I feel I have a
cold swollen gland achy
hip not what it used to be
Ravel saves the situation
the night unfolding wraps
me in eternal cosmic now

Nudist News

massive split
necessary men
center left/right
any questions

nudist news
sulky moue
standing firm
breathing warmth

bishop's note
rubbish sacks
plump lips
promising novel

Drink or Eat

if I had anything in mind
I must have been thinking

I had something to drink
or eat to stimulate thought

everything follows anyway
whatever you may imagine

no difference minuscule
whether you think or not

Only Body

trapped in this body
thinking in gurgling
tubes twinges lumps
immaterial wording
declines to penetrate
as if I no longer read
or care to care about
new interchangeably
discouraging events
only body is serious
nothing else exists

Say So

do readable word crazy spare
me attention scattered widely

story character anchors fair
uses the structure to ensnare

doing or thinking something
else orders attacks unwisely

over when you say so soon
breaking perspective shared

One Week

Sidney Lanier
Ruth Maleczech
Mario Montez
all in one week

Times: dogs have
thoughts and feelings
just like yours

Come Home

"If I can jump out of a plane, I can do anything, and it doesn't really matter at the end of the day anyway, so let's just have fun doing it." —Gretchen Bleiler (Olympic snowboarder)

no fog in spite of twelve years
in Afghanistan too long come
home boys and girls retire all
generals at welfare pay slash
the military rebuild America

The Same Person

I am not the same person she says actually
I am the same person I have always been
though I don't live necessarily act the same
no longer in a state of total paranoid hysteria

much changes the very cells but I am still me
who else made up on the basis of who I was
to begin with my very mistakes and triumphs
the material I have to work with as I learn

What I See

consciousness looks out from paint-encrusted eyes
seeing each other clear departures from normality
each own inherited from generations past knowing
despite historical dissolution fallen from troubled
custom dictates stresses comfort level collapsing
this is what I see when I look outward at the world

Better Stories

that was yesterday this is still today
and then it will all be gone but for
words crystallizing trace memory
pictures can do as well or better
stories told to oneself or others
slowly separate from their origin
eventually all becomeing fiction
before finally sublimely nothing

New Clothes

bright colored T-shirts on children
two by two on the bridge sidewalk
new clothes for the start of school
as the year goes on they will fade

Fear Defied

miserablism Asian or not looms
as a genre promises delivers rain
gloom suggested by the season
salt on a pitiful wounded orphan

what am I doing writing wait an
hour strikes fear defied by habits
folded crisply blurred windshield
rattling from the drinkable charge

All Over

even then I thought it was all
over but not at all I had another
life two no three and here I still am

the world though is seriously worse
off comforts fleeting stability illusion
mismanaged mankind self-destructing

I have to die but why must the entire
shebang makes even less sense if it
doesn't go on getting better for all

All Done

all over the sense of discovery
the making up of who I am or
might be in different situations
arising unexpectedly from air

all gone that feeling uncertain
hope to get away with it again
still wonder no need to worry
I've done it before it was fine

all done the ego excavations
measured against a not quite
certain success I already did
what I always do this is it

Cool Air

a good idea may follow none
turn me on and out they come

the sum of sun is summer fun
I know you know what I mean

a sudden inclination to say yes
heralds a resumption of travel

thus mind follows body feeling
good again warm water cool air

Intimate Revelations

behind the audience find me wondering
what's happening in the wings excluded
from actors' boring backstage bonhomie
my intimate revelations unacknowledged

it's frustrating finished I'd rather rehearse
preferring process to the product on sale
who can afford contemporary living as if
rich in offing textures chosen even cheap

Just Learning

partly cloudy versus mostly sunny
sums up neatly though it's raining
phone to Welsh weavers goes right
through we decide what's possible
before seven and an urban outing

it isn't so confusing we can choose
the outlook if not the weather do
plan or change it try to rise above
backache practically mental other
feelings I'm just learning to outwit

Face Down

speaking of what we think we know
dispels rumors of disengagement as
if I had gone away never to return an
unread book abandoned face down

say it while you can before selective
aphasia deprives the world of your
freshest best ingredients bad recipe
remembered Asian cucumber salad

sweet methodism with little glasses
grape juice avoid the whole decision
believe you will be reintroduced past
memory often always misunderstood

On Work

Thinking about the honorable drones who work in hospitals, say, dutifully following stringent protocols, doing their tasks, keeping things going along, or countless other job-holders, not to mention physical labor, I realize the great class distinction I and my kind embody: the artist-intellectual doesn't work. Not in the way a worker works, performing defined tasks to objective standards, usefully steady, team player, cog in machine. We claim autonomy, a deeper duty to determine our own endeavors and pursue the dictates of our own ideas—if they are our own. There's the rub.

Way Back

do I discover what is right myself
no a long history of moral thought
makes me think the only way I can
emerges solidified as what I know

there must be a way I can open up
let immediate reality pass through
the carapace of received ideation
actually respond to what I read

for example Leonard Melfi's death
the way a person becomes a body
long hallowed right of sepulcher
wounded feelings recognized tort

we see because we have to deeply
formed by history goes all the way
back however modern we may be
ourself one summation of eternity

So Easy

I don't have to push myself
it just happens if it's so easy
does it count is it any good

Dream Logic

something happens then something else
mostly you already know what to expect
mistakes occur instead of dream logic
just as well not let sheer anarchy enter

how then live present knowing a future
already waits appointment in Samarra
choices playing systems accumulating
errors accidents statistically adding up

as if you don't know what a day brings
one beat after another a toilet flushes
someone else was there all the time in
parallel another predictable trajectory

pretend you don't know be surprised
what you imagined comes to be real
pleasures to be plucked are to flower
again sustained by what you planted

Low Curve

the faint hiss of rain falling on water
echoes the low curve of pale rainbow
shallow end almost shockingly warm

I am alone in the pool but for a little
boy doing what the teacher says laps
much longer for a small flailing body

is that everything I have to say about
a day appointments unfolding smooth
moves effortlessly fit everything else in

Too Much

at least it didn't rain
she said meaning what I
can't imagine do we ever
understand each other at all

as if whatever happened
was bad enough sunny
and one more thing
would have been too much

Tattered Dignity

New people came in before we were even gone. The new editor sat at your desk ignoring my existence and had a meeting with her new staff. She asked one arrogant fool what he wanted in the way of salary, and he mouthed a number so high they all laughed in delighted disbelief. Isn't it ridicilous how we can enrich ourselves? I picked up my coffee, gone cold, and my tattered dignity and left.

Only Imagine

want what you can get
what you need if lucky
comes when it's ready

children with their own
agendas face realities
you can only imagine

made-up stories charm
as if usefully supplied
or specifically chosen

Long Bones

I still had time I thought
if I didn't get lost again
forget what I was to do
who I was meant to be

long bones weigh more
press harder on the bed

I still had time although
others had wandered off
looking for fresh ideas
weary of usual pursuits

the same is all we have
selves formed in acting

Grape Jelly

tomatoes gardens mowing
driveway lights bicycle dinners
letters movies piano
grape jelly

communication history
investments Stoic philosophy
time misgovernment
the body

how can wrong be righted
fairness rise newborn
truth replace lies
love trump fear

Time Comes

don't trip don't fall bones break instant
sudden setback steel plate friends drop
time comes when you least expect it

time comes when it will no will will
prevail will fails hold rail watch step
eat real food all systems sound for now

Berries Enough

no hush no nothing filled with sound
something unthinkable persistently on

how many berries is enough picking
often over figs are the latest explosion

such night reminds itself of another
same or different weathers of a place

Convincing Answers

summerly spare no mischief
relapse in the right direction
placate immediate responses
satisfying everybody's needs

when time comes I'm ready
will what naturally occurs
devise convincing answers
for questions scarcely heard

tomorrow promising hotter
affects each a different way
frightens wearies reassures
bonus price of being perfect

Too Much

if sex is good why
are you looking at
me like that think
what you will can
say too much here

let go for a while
change horses in
midstream racing
downhill winning
less more than not

then a time comes
when all could not
be otherwise wise
to ambiguities hot
for perfect resolve

More Alive

life always ends badly but
stories have happy endings
reading I want to feel more
alive larger someone else
writing to forget myself or
say something that matters
to me how else be meaning

Nor Here

space is not silence
comfortably restored
time is not a story
telling has to follow
free is not released
from everybody's fear
as night is never day
nor here exactly this

Milk Toast

more lost than found eventually catches up
I need to change my tone in spite of liking
everything the way it is too late for all that

mothers come back at the strangest times
I start to think everything goes right back
to what you had to deal with at the start

God knows mine was benign made me love
being sick though I seldom was she was so
sweet gave me a little bell brought milk toast

other mothers more difficult best friends
contending with strictness limits coldness
I knew how lucky I was a dangerous idea

otherwise entirely over an empty memory
uncomforted I acknowledge earlier time
gone for good yet ruling my very nature

Enough History

so much in your letter I had to read it twice
even then I couldn't take it all in
you mean we have been on the right track all along
opposing war accepting all our brothers and sisters
beyond issues fools for truth in art

reality takes care of itself and wins in the end
when only the forgotten are remembered
cheap paradox I mean only play is serious
now never can be said enough history
repeats again save attention for your own news

He Can

après moi rien only meaning here
now centered in my continuing on
life a thin layer under infinite sky

others exist each tree a soul you
in your car and your connections
each believing trying to matter

a speck a wink on a random dot
or each a part of the great whole
each all in miniature could count

hold that thought for future need
call Julian right away ready to
help if he thinks he can he can

Our Foreign Cousin

The family gathered, but I wasn't sure we were actually going to Burning Man. I left them at the hotel and went to check it out. The temporary city was in a different setting than before, hidden in the trees at the bottom of a valley. Halfway down the wide gravel entrance road I saw the smoke. I'd heard that a smoke was one of the major art effects this year. It was thick, white, dense, rolling slowly through the trees, filling in between and hiding them. I wasn't at all sure we wanted to breathe it, Carol especially, and anyway I was dubious about all the walking around because of my hip. I drove down to the bottom and sniffed the air ahead of the smoke, which smelled faintly of incense. Turning around to leave, I was alarmed to discover that my car almost couldn't make it back up the steep road. It crawled in first gear, the engine barely turning over fast enough to keep going, with no power to accellerate. If it stalled I would never be able to get it going again. I was even pushing with my feet, at least in my mind. Imagine my relief when we crawled over the top onto level ground! I went back to the hotel, where everybody was getting hungry and wanted to go to the Olive Garden. Someone had brought an angel food cake, which our foreign cousin took upon himself to slice and serve onto little plates. I tasted a crumb. It was sweet with that special angel food flavor, probably delicious with the lemon sauce. It seemed a peculiar time to be eating cake, though, just before going out to dinner. I didn't want to spoil my somewhat uncertain appetite so I didn't indulge. My uneaten slice looked forlorn sitting on the table by itself. I was impressed that our foreign cousin was so aware of each one of us, quite unlike myself, that he had cut exactly the right number of slices.

It Passes

choices are made the consequences
follow beyond reckoning as if you
had any control of what you decide

time spent or misspent what can
be the difference it passes I change
whatever I thought I was doing

One Model

I've only known one model (apart from Denis Deegan, who told me he was once the most beautiful boy in Paris) and that was Ivy Nicholson. What we had in common was our feelings for Tony Perkins. She was in love with him, she said, threw herself down a flight of stairs for him. I was over it. Ivy came to my apartment on Third Street one day with Andy, Billy, and Gerard, and Andy shot a three-minute film of Johnny Dodd kissing her on my fainting couch. In the middle of the kiss, I don't know why, Johnny reared up and slapped her. Ivy was furious. So was he.

Complicated Dishes

homemade betterness butters toast
breaks chocolate into quarters ices
aches repairs time's damages fast

eating is better than not or liking
complicated dishes comes back in
faded glory average past adequate

other inclinations reassert claims
invite participation I want to work
chop days to hours save me some

Not Myself

I insist on being happy satisfied
doing what I want what happens
when I can't I am not myself

Blowing Things Up

what does "military action" really mean
it sounds serious the logistics are fierce
it is hugely expensive multitudes of paid
highly trained operatives seriously think
intently work endless national resources
are invested without hope of any return
and after all that all they can think of is
to blow things up "military action" means
blowing things up is the best they can do

Patching Cracks

patching cracks satisfies
picking strawberries too

mood separate from mind
chemical misunderstanding

Don't Do It

military is the problem
more military is worse
nothing to be gained
Syria will not love us
military only brings
suffering destruction
please men don't do it

It Happens

hard to describe
a fog of nothing

still it happens
things get done

Side Effects

the pain was sciatica the medicine
generic percocet thanks to William
for showing me what was going on
the side effects worse almost than
the pain itself now largely abated

visitations from the dead not me
this time include David Way still
at it in his upstairs rooms dreams
better than real work on the Lobero
stage crew tonight $24.95 an hour

Dive In

possibly I am mainly depressed
pain is depressing and so is pain
medication if I am I should go
swimming but don't feel up to it
pleasant as it would be to feel
the water my body parting it I
don't have the energy to take a
shower get dressed drive there
take my clothes off and dive in
it's depression does that help

Egged On

I'll do it gladly but don't
make me talk about it this
doesn't mean that I don't
love you you know that

do whatever you want
knowing that I will too
consider yourself egged
on I'll help when I can

On Time

the moon rises right on time
its double a signal that I need
new glasses pay no attention

everything happens on time
inexorably scheduled might
as well be happy it isn't you

this time the skeleton reveals
its maniacal bent soft tissue
no match for molten metal

its own progress still on time
philosophy scorns experience
confirms our impermanence

High Reveal

is something else supposed to happen
I'm waiting for clarification of dreams
never again for the first time arising

we've known that all along forgotten
high reveal before the first act curtain
back when everything was up ahead

You Think

what can be said is not
necessarily true because
words fit together neatly
you think they are real
stand-ins for the actual
but they are only word
structures musical form
has rules that only apply
when you want them to

Game Over

life goes and death comes
again and again then slips
into the past tense each 1

win or lose it's play game
over when it is I goes out
if you are there you see it

reminds you of what's real
before & after a real horse
is none but memory ashes

Gone Completely

back to the pool the pain when gone
is gone completely dosage critical I
bask in pleasure can hardly remember
feeling as desperate as I actually did

fragile morale collapses at a touch
reality reminds me one among many
Stoics the truest understanding face
fate accept facts easier for emperor

Between Courses

now that I know how I realize
I did everything I did too soon

how was I to know I'm still here
I might not have lasted this long

saying the same thing over again
equally cliché between courses

going on and on like Woody Allen
mumble the peg on a cock horse

that one deserves perfect acting
Scarlett Johansson in a swimsuit

Idle Hopes

"No longer wander at hazard, for neither will you read your own memoirs, nor the acts of the ancient Romans and Hellenes, and the selections from books you were reserving for your old age. Hasten then to the end you have before you, and, throwing away idle hopes, come to your own aid, if you care at all for yourself, while it is in your power." —Marcus Aurelius (III, 14)

A Metaphor

to whom am I trying to explain myself
you're not interested in me why should
though subject my own direst interest
you're interested if anything in what I
think and have to say about the world
itself myself a metaphor for the world
myself alive a metaphor for life itself

Too Much

everything stops then gradually
starts again slightly different

pattern exists to be abandoned
sonata form an excuse to end

begin fearlessly and continue
all you can is not too much

The Question

holding onto the goal may suffice
if I can remember what it is or was
I kidding myself and everyone else
did I know more or less than that
small possibility of self-actualizing
has the moment passed for good or
ill is the question of the sorry day

oh all right I'll tell the whole story
though it isn't what I thought it was
my turn to be regretful if I would
admit what facts can be revealed
what I believe death cannot erase
like all effort however strenuous
or sincere continuity of wishing

Six Pictures

being slips through the cracks of doing
if there are any cracks one thing follows
hard on another reading writing fetching
self-care communication meditation nap

head swims I crawl over to the bed stop
not try to sleep try not to do anything at
all it's hard I can see six pictures more in
the hall through the open door sideways

being is not the question but the answer
doing not the solution but the problem
how to fully have this perfect little time
know it widen the space unfocus mind

Lost Years

ten cents a foot
(for rubbing it)
tinkle lost years
decades found
life fragments
remain vivid
Magie's book

Heat Pad

achey lays me down before dark
a pill a heat pad hope it helps

meanwhile everything keeps on
sense of what's real unaffected

not this phenomenological world
all that is known illusion

grow up experience it directly
see where you actually go

General Directions

if I don't tell you have no way
of finding out what you know
you need my intimations who
knew how to find on Google

I suppose I could facilitate a
search explain my intentions
beyond rational psychology's
unfamiliar secret borderland

I can't think but still can write
words imply sentences thought
pointing out general directions
behind beyond within my reach

Secret Thoughts

unspoken lullaby defends the never said
what you wished you had been able to
bicycle bell more articulate blending in
boat traffic trams unknown languages
conspire to absolve each other's faults
failing that perfect openness after sex
making do with rough approximation
still I try at least in my secret thoughts
shared with millions I don't even know

One Practice

practice is everything I do is practice
complicating itself and simply living

attention is paid to the task at hand
the only condition being me doing it

need not judge the actuality wanted
one practice unites all good energy

Forever Fresh

more books no errors possible adjustment can be endless summer if time truly goes both directions a loaf of bread forever fresh without refrigeration I would be going to the store even more often than I already do milk for less than a week eggs forever turning over in their box canyon creek dam oops or whoops how do you spell wups we used to say if you can't spell it you can't pronounce it disappears from your usable vocabulary

In Motion

everything is in motion
driven by Sun's cosmic
system stability illusion
only momentary balance
as everything is changed

immense dynamic forces
operate at diverse levels
intimate microscopic to
worlds in collision are
we on one I hope not

Above Beyond

dreams are not sweet flour is not
self-rising but you are dear friend
no need to explain I'm there ahead
saying go for it your time is now

and if it's passed that too is sweet
moment was not the same repeat
at peril all music new when played
against new habits above beyond

Final Acts

what I don't know grows faster
than my plastic brain remembers
more than it imagines reinvents
the rest my final acts often short

what is typed can be corrected
evolving emerging arising words
easily replaced like meanings
fluttering veils just out of reach

mustn't stop too soon impatient
for resolution never fixed need
shifting with time's predation
thinking's unattainable horizon

My Turn

story is what you tell framed
not that anything even exists
enough drama for one night

lucky to move and perceive
others equally complicated
feelings no need to explain

whatall happens will suffice
space-time event-structured
need developed in the dark

and if no one cares whether
willing or self-preferring do
I stop wait my turn it comes

Better Lessons

small steps satisfy small fame
increments add nothing much
more required for completion

ambition I never admitted nor
pursued chose failure learned
better lessons easier that way

succeeded in something else
eventually righted adaptation
includes staying who you are

no new truth same old same
standards stay past what was
is still needs not be repeated

Go Along

quick bunny before yielding
always easier to the good

not so simple when the bad
things happen be surprised

though you shouldn't forget
the last time was the same

different people may say less
or something you don't like

go along if you feel all right
resist only where you must

Good Shots

nothing lost is another day gained
time shaping to seasonal pleasure
games played berries picked words
exchanged occasional good shots
don't even need to be remembered

Small Gifts

walking around in the dark
trying not to be funny shoe
or plop if satire doesn't kid
the stars still shine a moon

so how does it come to this
eating pasta reading in bed
small gifts best remember
thanking what force lives

Medium Rare

extreme contrast eludes all media
medium rare events absorbed too
easily think ah so another disaster

what in this system causes wobble
friction catastrophic erosion failing
critical parts redundantly impaired

great minds withdraw into details
subtlely illuminate the used-to-be
norm slipping even as we speak

Big Enough

grandparental ethics unavoidable ambiguous
mix short work bent warp true goodness too
hard to suss principles deeper in than reason

make it up as best you can the ever-changing
circumstance pheronome-led shape-shifting
bad-good influence moved in with the devil

whom can you explain to if you wanted too
much mud breach the levee swept off your
pedestal barely big enough to stand up on

Calls Dark

now I'm the one who walks
just as everything calls dark

small boys enjoy pingpong
for accountant-artist I'm on

around the edges cancelled
rides a tarp against the sun

everything perfectly clear
do what you have to do

Take That

unseat my soft power dissipates be-
nighnly in the evening air clove oil
lemon concentrate take that weeds

meanwhile the horses race loudly
down the hall balancing the house
waits welcome midsummer moon

Artistic Poses

snobbery unmasked Anglophilia
so far away now it hurts to admit
deep-grained hunger for elevation
only attitude can satisfy embody

imaginary manor-born comfortable
servants know they're here to serve
delicious meals in elegant settings
casually disposed among gardens

sophisticated snob of forgotten art
obsolete references artistic poses
disposing themselves cynically
ironic you who play who you are

Play Again

spontaneous design a cover
not good yet but a fine ride
into the land of imagination
play I live there all the time

let it happen a better idea
arises as easily play again
no money changing hands
risk nothing but your life

Heavy Cream

summer treats overwhelm receptors
spoiled silly I'm back for more heavy
cream on top of mother nature's bounty

five hens gone to possible rejuvenation
via roosters don't have enough virgins
may find more motive for laying eggs

one more still living rough she hid from
vague children swirl in mommies' wake
farm drama on the way to something else

Natural Cycles

Barthes Bataille Baudrillard allure
instead I settle on Jean Rhys another
fiction take my imagining elsewhere

I can't think I just am and won't be
later each self expressive of its age
the actual person hovering in limbo

story like sonata form natural cycles
satisfy uniquely time again unfolds
unveiling secret alternative versions

Dear Life

"We need support, we need connection, and we need people in our lives to be there and to love us." —Seth Numrich

the horse thinks I am bringing her hay
but it's only weeds she towers over me
paws at the fence stamps her foot
I stand up and look her in the eye

the hens regrettably quit laying eggs
they're not pets they're farm animals
ready for olla come take them away
start new chicks later than we should

the blueberries however are hugely
successful I give away boxfuls hand
picked eat freeze dry them make my
famous Sunday blueberry pancakes

halving plums for the dryer seeds
cling for dear life I cut them out
my last plum jam lingers too sweet
better possibilities bake something

Perfect Harmony

where is music air changes ears
barely move or rush about loudly

paper music outlives the players
and the sound they fleetly make

music must be perfect harmony
absolute spheres heaven angels

playing music is work higher
even than holy genius in love

Then Who

praise summer with crickets
staggering around in the dark
turning off sprinklers I could
be somewhere else than here
then who would do my thing

Better Self

ease up good habits
are not compulsory
observe a sabbath
for your better self

Alien Furniture

fragile well-being depends on everything
working one inevitable collapse undone
the bed won't comfort alien furniture fits
rooms I fail to need or fill routines' shape
suited to another absent eventually lost

pills against depression leverage working
joints rising sun recovery changeable view
inflate thought enough to rise like dough
covered warm unconscious in the night I
wish I could I do I will whatever happens

Limited Lessons

always something and yet we count
on clear sailing that too comes goes
crazy not to quit while you're ahead

long form thrives on conflict if not
outright disaster too much edit out
working for the common goodness

look to fiction for clean end comes
halfway down the last page it stops
you go on to something else forget

but no we save it in our bones our
limited lessons learned once more
begin to respect the need for form

Press Ahead

easily amused baby charmer
follows Judith's formula
take an interest press ahead

do you see me I'm here in
the middle distance ready
there you are wearing a cap

Around Me

not volunteering to help move hay
they don't need me not my thing

what else not going on around me
as if I knew everything there was

if I wasn't there it didn't happen
sure and I was in their thoughts

history catches up ride the wave
learning a little more every day

Hidden Straws

art is a deal
something to do
a way of life
between meals

after dinner I
pick berries
countable blues
hidden straws

slap at a fly
with a rasp ouch
think fast
feral chicken

Soft Sky

is this what I always wanted
summer on my own porch
my own soft sky with horses

nothing to envy anymore I
made it be thus by choices
leading as they lean to this

there's more the other calls
faintly or demands I come
if I have something to do

not only the situation but I
have changed wanting less
thrill more chill still warm

Keeping Clean

here I am again washing dishes
doing laundry washing clothes
myself floors windows the car
keeping clean a major activity

likewise cleaning stove dusting
sweeping the driveway pulling
weeds mowing the grass again
the very least of constant tasks

this begins after making the bed
preliminary teeth hair skin face
same clothes brought out season
after season working at a life

Extra Time

"If you are happy and contented, getting older is just something that happens." —C.E.S.

necessary blankness refreshes
more and more until all blank
possibly regrettable enjoy it
while it lasts a while longer

reset like the tennis players
get no extra time but they are
twenty-something trained to
max gorgeous confrontations

still bounce back after short
intermission half-hour nap
enough but horizontality has
me glued to bed get up go on

Just Words

what you call thoughts is really just
words you talk to yourself tell you how
to feel feed on themselves resonate
take on unstoppable life of their own

without them you are worse than blind
but they never stop asking questions
urging wrong answers fumbles slips
internal propaganda rules the mind

just words can be changed for others
or a chant or breathing or playing
solitaire rise above it you are free
words are playthings embrace them

Worth It

drooping after effort I made
sponge cake with marionberries and whipped cream
for our Fourth of July
under the walnut
worth it scrumptious

good to have traditions one or two
every year different and the same
this summer all the berries are early strawberries over
now I appreciate our own
named for the county

Question

has everything changed
or is it just me

Only One

if I am a plant I mind less
unless exotic I am one of
many a group struggling
if I am a person I am only
one is it enough not really

Not Dead

words are not things pull up
the grass it is not dead it has
many roots comes right back

still effort rewards a brown
deer appears silently coolly
eyeing the hollihocks we love

glowing sky restless horses
birds in evidence machinery
murmurs reminder of wars

Better Choices

everything is melting brains
overheating legs giving out
sit down all comes clear the
purposings of the day gotta
listen to the body do it says

thought is a sponge provide
rich effluents crazy colors
moisten frequently imagine
what else is possible better
choices more widely known

More So

Gramsci is undoubtedly right on
but I can't think that way try as I
might I can't even try the mind
boggles refuses effort recoils

accepting my limitations leads to
curious calm continuing to move
ahead without undue questions
what is right or would be better

this is the world that is not that
ought to be alas I can't change
myself except more so much
less anyone's full-scale life

Not Your Own

assume your ideas are not your own
your very thoughts where did they come from
whose are they really why did you believe them

this is not the way you thought your
father thought groping for justification of what
he couldn't help inheriting more than money

otherwise we would be entirely lost
in fact the patterns etched in blood and pain
changing the context cannot finish or escape

At a Loss

stories are not what happens
is mostly ordinary happiness
housework and good times
alone or with people we love

story is what you make of it
literary forms and customs
who you tell yourself you are
when you forget what's real

stories are made up actual
acts and characters revised
to suit our preconceptions
the imperatives of the plot

stories are not important or
signify but they do pass time
enjoyably structure emotions
otherwise at a loss for words

Passim Redux

Dan's word-picture mix a gentle variant
suggesting the connection must be you
freshens the moment shared meditation
in action in a particular time and place
passim as if the world ran on grammar

Bed Head

dreams full with people I know or knew
and wish I knew better why is David Way
speaking so closely to Megan Terry why
not me big empty rooms things going on
out of sight from which I am annoyingly
excluded I don't even want to write down

if I were alone more I would mind more
I am missing much though I have much
more than most but fewer close contacts
I can't explain what I mean not knowing
but the poignant feeling makes me stay
in bed head on pillow awaiting its return

Fully Erect

the sponge is fully erect in twenty seconds
the gym like the pool surprisingly pleasant

Who Knows

real poetry is when you let yourself
be silly or else try hard be serious
as if it matters what you think say
anything you wish someone else
would say make it up write a play
it doesn't have to sound plausible
unless it's realism even then who
knows what people say or mean
it just comes out another natural
bodily function pushy to mention

Slow Movement

playing that slow movement is heaven
there is no time there it lasts forever

the party was cancelled I didn't hear
we had as good a time by ourselves

or better I played Vivaldi and Bach
when I got home without the violins

Too Easy

too tired I hate to admit to
tackle another tree pit even
put back the wrought-iron
furniture I moved to mow
the longest day dark early
gray clouds clog white sky

ipod helps gym but I forgot
my Kindle Marcus Aurelius
awaits my walking attention
monitor my heart rate 130
max quick on the elliptical
slower on the bike too easy

Ordinary Life

am I as idiosyncratic as my friends
studying to indulge my predilections
each a fresh version of ordinary life
evaluated deconstructed like nouvel
roman unwitting artists of actuality

How Loud

long story can't be shortly told
how loud the birds were singing
or if the chickens pay their way

we're not birds we're mammals
bipeds incompletely organized
lords of disaster thus specialize

what I was thinking as I wrote
this or that imagined goings on
better than brain scans devised

soft-boiled childhood memories
hardly hold their original form
damage and benefit long done

what you can make up who you
are no facts more eloquent than
fantasy of knowing what to say

Another Level

if everything is said
there is nothing left
to say nothing more

mysterious gaps ask
answers mystery less
interesting if solved

I want knowledge on
another level not in
words but sensibility

like music but with
content too real life
illuminated uplifted

Something More

writing is my art or one of my arts
music and theatre its companions
along with living something more
than communication practicality

whether it's read hardly matters
what counts readiness thereness
I can manage those control self
not others living their own lives

I do have something to say about
attention open sensibility heart
informing experience of seasons
flowing through a radiant space

For Now

strawberries and rhubarb arrive together
then blueberries then raspberries overlap
a mountain boomer is a lizard likes it hot
more might be said that's enough for now

Gay Routine

bird or moon sandwich
follows word skiffing in
bed without a computer

boring animals dig holes
eat bulbs generally annoy
deer ignore horses cats

rosé or river guidance
cherries berries galore
season our gay routine

So Few

I hate to lose a friend
wonder who's a friend
and why they are so few

I try write letters visit
occasionally remember
who we are together

but I am here and they
are mostly far away
being who they are now

come back I love you
or was it circumstance
what we were doing then

Wry Writer

where is the word I want waiting for me
to think of it where is the thought that
needs it probing for the swollen orifice

I have never been able to think finessed
it by being "sensitive" and cunning not
to mention my charm and good looks

I went to Yale had all the advantages I
could handle ran away with the circus
never came back none to come back to

so there I am explaining the inexplicable
ambiguous to the core questioning wry
writer searching in words for all I want

What Happened

if I don't go
I won't know
even if I do
I won't remember

I forget plot
what happened
who did what
how it ended

images remain
and feelings
but not why
what it meant

I want to go
see what it is
how they do
it makes me feel

Without Friction

without friction no movement
similarly
much as I like making jam raspberry plum cherry
and grape jelly
and feel virtuous
I don't actually like them as well
as endless commercially available alternatives
(but my kumquat marmalade was to die for)
similarly
the shoes I want the same Rod Lavers
are all over the internet theoretically still made
but nowhere in my size
maybe it's time for a change
similarly
2xist stopped making black boxer briefs
the way I liked them
and anyway I was tired of the style
so I changed
bought blue Calvin Kleins striped Tommy Hilfigers
no way not to have someone else's name written on you
similarly
everything is being recorded
for someone else's purposes
be careful not to attract their attention
or say anything you'll regret
no use regret
too late

Innocent Clouds

weather lifts us up or weighs us down
thrills depresses bores us disappoints
but never can signify these innocent
well-spaced clouds don't imply peace
on the ground in fact they favor war
storms can disrupt best battle plans
these beautiful days ask for trouble
winter threat before summer comes

Wrong Path

can I trust you to be who you were
can you escape being who you are
is change merely deeper discovery

even if you are on the wrong path
you don't get to go back start again
but only go on from where you are

Hard Pull

a balance of discipline and self-indulgence
work play simpler than the actual equation
crawling the length of the blueberry garden
on my knees pulling grass thistles weeds a
few berries already is practicing Bach work
is cooking play most things are in between
complicating the balancing act on intuition
no wiser guide than what you think and feel
Fragonard sky singing birds wing hard pull

My Land

shadows are not black but transparent
look inside and you can see this land
is not my land though I admire the view
every acre owned by someone who will
defend it if necessary regretfully shoot
or go to court win with deeds and laws

no one is there in the shadows invisible
children seldom running free one can
drive fast depend on road's smoothness
arbitrarily transiting topography draped
with fields farms private holdings serve
private aims unite only in self-assertion

Perfectly Ripe

I don't take strawberries for granted
or forget they only come once a year
perfectly ripe lasting barely one day
pointless to eat them any other time

not like potatoes we keep all winter
in the insulated room off the garage
more like tomatoes good fresh from
the garden dried or frozen for later

nothing really measures up though
their redness sweetness readiness
to soften intensifies their pleasure
sugar draws juice then thick cream

Easy Chairs

something hurts if you can get past it
something else feels good not the pain
exactly music satisfaction over chores
done after weeks thinking about them

days like this add up until the pattern
changes again hours possibly too full
I seldom sit and read despite hammock
easy chairs wait for me put my feet up

necessary rest then on to the next move
a kind of stillness silent practice woven
of points touched or made like a dance
rapidly recovering be ready for anything

Natural Diligence

what is enough is what you decide is enough
or is it unconscionable compromise to love
my VW not hold out for the Bentley I could
dumbly weed till dark and not make a dent
idle as I am I write more than anyone reads
why work I have enough without working
even as hard as I do losing money at it too
crazy world turns natural diligence frantic
privileged point of view courtesy of Google

From Before

the present is poor without the past
what we can do conditioned by what
we have done before what we learned
or might learn now by looking back

this leans on that this me developed
from before the before entire history
of the world possibility not exhausted
even if everything already happened

trappings matter how you choose to
present yourself part of who you are
your being more precious than tides
you the bodiment of all that remains

Perfect Return

time slips between zones
unhappy Russians always
leaving and coming back

I know better than to tell
what empty airports call
safe clean free wide open

yesterday another month
without company or food
for thoughts about living

alone goes well enough a
book longer than a movie
set follows perfect return

Before Deadline

tasks define hours define day
sunny after rain light change
meals the clock Paris weather
start finish to be continuous
this follows before deadline
after everything else is done
fills with meaning I missed
until I made the token effort
so it goes again as if always
the same as it never really is

Pitch In

reading I am somewhere someone else
events transcend my efforts to just live
I need to pitch in with the garden get
this place together before it's too late
if it isn't already no don't think that

it's hours earlier than it feels 10:22
do I dare go to bed anything is O.K.
nobody watching momentary local
peace we all deserve encourages free
improvisation of appropriate acts

Open Wide

barely existing beyond the body
let the world go on by passing
I'm not missing anything mind
already open wide fully worked
that's all there is as far as it goes

time stops and may not restart
I wouldn't mind if it didn't no
kicks or pricks if you don't tell
on me I'll never know whether
weather the mood determinant

Creeping Up

a short break from myself refreshes
freely blossoming manifest friends
displaying their usual personalities

if I had gone I would be submerged
instead I have to entertain myself
after the others went home alone

less of a problem than one imagined
having finished "Travesties" played
Beethoven creeping up on bedtime

High Wheat

happy dad squirming with energy
pulses echo exertion in the wet
forest none but us and one giant
footprint in the slippery mud

doing as a vehicle for being in
the car exploring high wheat soft
green flowing through the day
confident in each other's love

Personal Space

I thought I had said something
something on my mind someone
coming over for some reason I
wouldn't even try to construe it
don't matter he said but it must
have meant more than that so I
insisted but it was nothing more
than another misunderstanding

this the story I intended to tell
parsing it swiftly as the words
led forward revealing everything
I wanted to say original intention
the last person I expected to see
told it to me to freely repeat or
reproduce like house flies ready
to rudely violate personal space

What Happens

one minute I'm talking to Jerome Robbins
telling him how much I love his work
and the next well you know what happens
he doesn't remember who I am and he should
we shared a boyfriend for a little while
but famous people have more to remember
everybody wanting something from them
while hardly anybody wants anything from me

Where We Are

we were never young I was old
at nine perfect at seventeen fell
apart at eighteen and twenty am
only now who I was becoming

npr is seriously middle-brow and
puts me in my place Jonas Mekas
quite right "the middle is always
boring" and this is where we are

High Time

good the general war is revoked
can we have fun again be young
and fools again thanks I'll pass

still I'm glad and high time for it
too many years of wrong footing
not who we ought to want to be

can we at least return to normal
natural disasters bad enough no
need to make trouble will come

Perfect Moment

no one to balance against
perfect moment to realize
continuity one assumes is
impermanent does go on
then you lose everything

you don't have it has you
defined repetition groovy
if you think of it eternity
passing renewed in other
segments the same span

What Now

I don't have to decide anything I'm
programmed self-motivated disciplined
how true but what a joke and what now
when half the system is out of town
ten days like forever in advance what
changes nothing everything adapted
perfectly my habits shaped to presence
turn on more lights keep on existing

Go There

sleep when sleep
not stalled half
deciding whether
digging in deep

go there quickly
or slowly just go
you will dream
awake refreshed

wake when wake
new to this day
feeling this moment
making it good

Without Regret

Mozart finishes the moment without regret
nor I but how can I share his sense of fun
if this isn't frivolous I don't know what is
and yet the highest art a pinnacle of serious

what do we truly care about but our children
not even each other mortal even ourselves
developed countries declining toward collapse
if we don't get there first we will be sorry

not for ourselves or Mozart but the fun we had
playing when we remembered not to work
too much or all the time do a little something
every day and the great monuments are made

Way Out

no further plans is this
an alarming vacuum my
theatre craving flagged
read watch movies play
music ping-pong when
someone to play with

supreme commander
of myself crazed with
indecision aren't we
all blundering badly
stuck no good way
out of Afghanistan

Sweet Scent

pleasure in part of the body not to be
mentioned and others too numerous
fingers through keyboards ears hear
bird song eyes flowers reading art
mind as well involved in all these
skin in water muscles movement it
does go on sweet scent of the baby
proves natural best of all experience

More Real

"I don't want anything to change. I want everything to be this way and for nothing more to happen." —Michael McClure, "The Adept"

forgotten dreams linger as empty
memories voids where something
should be but isn't despite wakeful
"hours" rehearsing composing a
narrative embodied with feelings
not to be denied more real than
history every day more bad news
I prefer them to be lucid with me
figuring out what's really going on

Easy Eating

more feeling than memory a bird
calling from the topmost branch
a voice from a crowded stage hid
behind bright ideas in forbidden
dream utterance speak to no one
unless called then rise occasions
report our less admirable results
limit understanding further war
supposed intentions declassified
too late alarms identify new day
old errors coded for easy eating

Too Fat

what's happening one brown chicken
limping the other falling over on her
face feathers ragged let me pick her up

to Falstaff a chicken is cooked juicy
he's been mocked he's getting too fat
but still has his whole sense of fun

Fresh Viewers

throngs of children multiply screams is anything
wrong in this picture I am silent and withdrawn

irises grouped by color invite inspection picking
for different rooms where fresh viewers are few

opera elaborate as any project to make changes
budget rehearsal schedule all must be perfected

then who knows how well things go if you care
I will be there thinking how to do better always

Hot Water

cottonwoods' fluffy catkins describe air's
eddies make visible unevenness fluidity

floating in the last horizontal sunlight
enrapt dramatically slow like seasons

my feet in hot water not a metaphor
soothing no one wants scraggy nails

Now Then

fragmentary memory Taylor Mead
Lanford Wilson whom do we know
how we figure in each other's lives
now then what might have a future
or could have happened but didn't

Toooooo Boring

I only want to feel O.K.
is that toooooo boring
am I missing something
critical thinking seized
up from disuse but I was
largely faking it even then

dizziness dementedness
swooning onto the floor
ecstatically Mahlerized
is all beyond me now I'd
rather be calmly active
doing what I do in peace

Immoral and Illegal

solitary confinement is torture
torture is immoral and illegal

detention is stealing a life
Guantanamo shames us all

end solitary confinement
free all political prisoners

Inevitable Cheese

"no one I know has ever been
cremated" inevitable cheese
no curtain at Carnegie Hall
no page-turner at recitals
no fortissimo in J. S. Bach

even what we know seldom
correct despite experience
usually trimmed to fit un-
knowing alterations make
any good story unreliable

Old Bach

listen to this you will understand
everything comes from the heart

can you do it probably not no one
else can Michelangeli still rules

he is in my ears inside my skull
old Bach transformed immediate

Pressing Tasks

revelry pointless I know it's spring
crowd into rooms all talk at once

good time walking down the road
admire day say hello to neighbors

home comfort chickens watering
cats flowers dishes pressing tasks

Too Real

nothing to offer but personal truth
too light weighed against the world

too real to bear lightly illuminated
losing everything including myself

thought can't trump feeling arises
defiant sinking without new goals

running slower heavy news past
imagine what I believed possible

Bad Nights

bed dread inexorable gravity
arise at five-five too thinking
dad bad nights semiparalytic
last refuge let him down hard

cheery in the early light stew
rhubarb though old goodness
avails less anticipated flavors
making eating highlight days

morning comes eventually to
think imagine mother asleep
comfort illusion erase time's
arrow creeping toward release

Don't Ask

don't ask if you
want to know tell
everything no one
cares anymore

Deep Feeling

anything left to say over be
remembered for generational
improvement like Grammy's
Couéisms poems with me still

though I can't remember who
said what only a deep feeling
this is real being here hearing
something mean something

value in itself without specific
remembering it would be easy
to make up what actually was
whatever it was at that time

Afternoon Coffee

lying in wait in my dream
he holds me tight I think
this is nice but we can't
save each other

I followed him
into my mother's room
the same furniture
painted a different color

must we go over this
again and again aching
wearily rise to brew my
afternoon coffee

A Month

chicken view enhances tai chi
Bach-buoyed sustains its slow
unfolding leg now evenly strong

that was fast a month gone by
healing and birthing books new
old authors sharing the breeze

relax enjoy great writing other
stories show how good things
could be help to make them so

Go Ahead

don't ask me if you should change your plans
no matter what I will say no go ahead do it I'm
funny that way never mind why or what for

anything can be justified at the time and after
when you realize what you've done it's too late
be kind be true fearlessly advance into being

On Hold

waiting is not doing anything because
something is about to happen when it
does everything will start up again as
if there were no gap no empty waiting

what am I to think in the meantime
eat smoke drink slowly sauté onions if
he knew when he'd be here he could
tell me or just arrive I hope he does

read past dinner time turn on lights
everything on hold isn't it always
like this emptiness filled with nothing
better than predictable happiness

Proper Fiction

the story gains from being true
not contrived like proper fiction
makes you wonder what author's
doing not what really happened

not that it matters any particular
could be something else I could
be someone who does things I
can't imagine ever wanting to do

no constraints if you make it up
more unlikely things happening
out of sight and just as well not
know what you can't understand

One Century

who is this going through the motions of being
me a whirl of energy around a void where is my
center did I forget it somewhere can I be just
projects otherwise empty day of almost nothing

old men walk up and down our street no traffic
makes it pleasant no threat of being knocked
down broken a reality treadmill one century of
completed lives unrolling slowly past then back

Act Now

I'm not ready to think about anything
tolerate ambiguity fear certain facts
suddenly inescapable if you go there

what I will have to do you have to do
something to entertain these hours
naturally arising from who you are

so go ahead commit to words look
past hesitation personal health act
now is the time there is none other

Whatever Helps

innocent sleep disrupted
(gunfire overseas closer)
waiting to welcome me
hold me against anxiety
oversleeping symptotic

ten years of up all night
working in the theatre
days extended artificial
energy enhanced wake
up my main message

work makes you tired
kids and nine to five I
slept well if you let me
got up earlier to write
a few minutes myself

I had it solved stay up
late get up early not a
problem then it came
back a threat or all too
actual span of horror

what I dread most is
late night awake why
not sleep what I want
a break from my mind
gnaws goulishly dark

pills do the trick now
but can't go on I don't
approve silly not value
whatever helps sleep I
am O.K. in the morning

Vintage Grandeur

this is not fiction would
it were better to be among
the survivors was a woman
dressed in thrown-together
vintage grandeur playing a
violin Mozart to be exact

meanwhile the fact remains
everyone is dead but we few
dream-racked unable to forget
the present rich as it ever was
better educated in the name
of badly imagined progress

Dead Flowers

casting nothing is real a book
I don't want to do dead flowers
the poet deplored for sincerity

impressions of music flowing
water leaves dancing in wind
screams from the other room

do it anyway moment realized
despite outrage disintegration
the only answer can be I will

Last Chapter

a biography complete the last chapter
addendum in some exotic rendezvous
then death rebirth ultimate vindication

here is where we are now embodied
yearning to be distilled posthumously
canonized like a fully realized fiction

Love Itself

mailbox emotions may clutter recipe files
what goes into what remains to be defined
who felt worse for how long what is worse
states of mind are not passions to be torn
off like messages and thrown to the dogs

the less said the better unless you suffer
rejection self-collapse rampant delusion
of the truly lame may find its niche and
survive anyway even love itself surge in
a wave of oceanic density lifting you all

As Expected

no one told me what to expect
or how long the indescribable
vulnerabilities go on endless
waking as if somewhere else
might be seriously different

healing like everything takes
its time sweet if you let it be
better than fight to hurry up
a moment better than none
could have said how it was

no blame or apologies if all
goes right be lucky oftener
than underserved exception
to spare you anything it all
comes around as expected

In Between

how far shall I go before I get there
and come back around again every
night essentially the one long story

no more questions unless you know
the answers in advance how else to
be sure you're right you have to be

heard when you want to be perfect
your own way patient determined
to face yourself existing in between

Conventional Throes

if I could say what I think about
everything like Andy Warhol it
would be interesting instead I
thrash in conventional throes
cling to bygone undone ideals

everything falls short one way
and another even Beethoven I
stumble he shakes his head and
leaves the room the other person
declines to desert different ways

one opinion is good as another
meaning less than you thought
or more private reference roman
à clef for so inclined we all are to
become what we never imagined

Sensible Light

drowning in daffodils doesn't sound so bad
but we still have to breathe music by itself
one layer of world united by sensible light

hoodie comfort shuts out hurtful thoughts
without improving anyone else's situation
dark existing lies in wait for inexact step

try not to fall though top-heavy standing
up to chaos erupting from within without
denying facts no beauty can overwhelm

Only Dead

this is what remains complete
each object chosen placed the
size of these rooms determines
scale how big a life do I desire

quibble at peril it all depends
on the rest of the system where
does that end not ever stands
self-created improbably here

everyone is too busy working
I cherish days of nothing but
wanting more hatch projects
only dead people have time

Empty Threats

relentless accumulation of dreams
almost at once something stupid
happens and I have to deal with it

I have to get up it's unbearably
tiresome to have to figure it out
yet one can't ignore imagination

it is my own mind spinning these
sappy remakes cleverly juxtaposed
still the same dumb empty threats

Wayward Beauty

love your voice my dear but the art is bullshit
these easily said abstractions not worth breath
however pretty no excuse but precious when we
cared for what retrospectively could barely exist

I was interested in movement toward perfection
as are all artists we do our best physically too
wasp-waisted morally misunderstanding what
might have been seen as the moment as it was

falling toward and away from wayward beauty
only valuable as truth is most people are plain
anything else a bonus brightening dark days
like sun quelling clouds in the waking mind

Inspired Volume

3,000 mL maximum inspired volume hard
work nothing to do but heal my exercises
relatively brief why does it seem so serious

I scratch the back of my head and nod was
what got me started anything at all will do
more for literature than dozing over a book

My Hand

How can I say I want to do a project with him if I can't remember what his own project is? And then he reaches over and takes my hand away from my penis.

Many Rooms

a poem can say anything
inside outside imagined
this moment drawn from
a lifetime of experience

geography is everywhere
one was what happened
why what one felt about
it made it matter more

time is now and forever
past manifest as future
just what you expected
if you'd seriouly admit it

let them all come in we
have many rooms beds
sofas floors closets art
works best of anything

Two Sides

pain management a novel could be anyone
having a party to celebrate another opening
wish or resolution to stay positive another
good day not always possible for everyone

managed the pain is not severe even nights
go by somehow the day brings love flowers
flashing tender stars strength returns time
my two sides catching up with one another

unmanaged I don't want to think about it
accepting comfort since I can the moment
needing to be saved it's all there is afraid
its enemy always in wait never destroyed

Trivial Arrangements

why is it strange that things do not stay
the same when I am not doing them I
can't control them but I can allow them
to be different another persona at stake
less invested in trivial arrangements

New Parts

shall I tell you everything I know
do you have a few minutes now
or are you doing something else
or thinking you should be about
to begin being what you meant

most of it goes unused usually
turned down to forty or less if
I knew how to be better I would
reconsider everything but here
I am new parts same old soul

Longer Grass

easier all the time reminded
where I was the day before
how fearful hesitating weak

it hasn't been that long three
days longer grass more tulips
body clock outracing spring

12-hour shifts smooth change
specialists reappear as called
still myself suffer to be remade

Dark Times

Restoril promises yogurt by morning
drastic contrast between desperate
wakefulness and easy coming back
to myself one moment I want to die
the next miraculously comfortable I
could have brought less depressing
books who knew I might have though
neither read nor write in dark times

In Bed

feeling normal but not normal I can't
go anywhere do anything stuck in bed
wants cheerfully thoughtfully met in
advanced supply functioning hospital

how lucky we are suffering restraint
by elective accident of history choice
music on demand cares anticipated
beyond any need much less deserts

reiterate precautions as if even more
fragile than I fear if I moved wrong
I'd be sorry knowing better the time
had come weird but available to me

Us All

everything came out even
I'm glad of that loose ends
can be annoying just when
you need your wits about you
the best Buddhist point of view
patience with crazed bureaucracy

indubitably it helps that people care
I'm not as self-sufficient as I appear
strong in spite of myself calm
in the face of headwinds gentle
with myself and hopefully others
aiming to be present to us all