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