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