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