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