After Midnight

whether anything ends invites argument
if you will I too embrace new adventure
the pattern shattered so we begin again

buttons to be pushed or pushed through
with unpredictable results warmth or
bells fireworks missiles organ choirs

champagne tomorrow after midnight
in New York we go to bed awakened
possible improvement well resolved

Fully Owned

why it isn't flat well it is
in the greater scheme Earth
is almost polished close up
the bumps are big and matter

a valley below the mountains
the creeks must run upstream
viewed from the attic window
a hill falls away from the sill

another country more ideal
fully owned not to be lived in
veined with rivers roughened
by spinning centuries of work

As Planned

how relaxing it is to watch
people being funny in Italy
the whole day goes better

laughing before breakfast
melody falling into chord
movements flow as planned

unfunny things happen too
unexpected interventions
by accident genes karma

playing tai chi in silence
I hear myself breathe in
and out in thankful ease

My Kind

not my kind of who
knows better than to
say so what else is

Debussy Fauré say
other personal habits
intrude on the pure

decide I'd rather not
be part of that scene
even fifty years later

Last Word

too late for never
told who came last
word a thing itself
deployed as laser

be yourself later
learning after all
what is being this

all right for now
before night falls

and close the file

Talking Back

the screen is my paper
talking back to me
telling me what I think

do we need books anymore
you are reading this now
books wait on the shelf

More Real

Larry Ree Peter Hujar Paul Thek
take away my mind imagine that
more real than actually being me

My Best

if I speak frankly
no telling what I'll say
the wrong thing or
nothing is wrong
a passing thought
may be held against me
so I watch my words

I go on having feelings
whatever they are
other centers in play
easily deceive mind
there's no other way
to take hold of them
but I do my best

Nuts and Raisins

domestic virtue gratifies countdown
skipping beats working not too hard
rewarded nuts and raisins reply with
starshine sparkles and a blue guitar I
envision gleaming like an old new car

Right Here

lighting the tree has a not very interesting
history I am the man less patient than I was
waiting for nothing it's already right here

one hand is enough if you work hard enough
time has passed to appreciate the possible
excusing my present self from yesterdays

be ready to make the right decision suffer
as little as you can it's perfectly normal to die
time ripens in spite of you one story ends

All Thought

forget all about it
simplify multiply
all thought in one
pattern unites all
complexity rules

Dreaming Along

summer love on the longest night
thanks Walt you're the best of men
encompassing everything in poetry
here today speaking directly to us

embracing highs and depths alike
listing off the many kinds of men
rising on the breath of multitudes
dreaming along with the dreamers

let me be you or myself in youth
striding ardently straining upward
energy stamina endless possibility
opening heart mind arms eyes bed

Delightful Views

hard is not bad but easy is good if you think so
too many words enclose many simple thoughts
one or two never all the sides of anything much
orderly intention clarifies improves most tasks
drudgery fun happily practice delightful views

Fall Rain

if you try to be perfect
you may be good enough
if you don't you won't
and other good advice
sprinkled like fall rain
matting the fallen leaves

Yes

yes I turned off the soup
the answer is yes ask anything

Frog Skin

I am playing with a little boy who is dressed up like a pirate for Halloween. He is sitting crosslegged and hunched over, almost hiding his little brother. I reach in and extract the smaller boy, who is tiny. He is wearing a frog skin that doesn't even have eye holes, completely sealed into it, squirming and moaning. I think we should let him out.

Coming Alive

unknowability is a copout
why I don't like Will Eno
a critic in spite of myself
or was it the production

what I said often unkind
dismissing weeks of work
praising in a single word
loving my own thoughts

at best sharing my delight
relishing a nifty narrative
characters coming alive
honoring true intention

the lights faded to black
the audiences went home
let them be not forgotten
having lived and given all

Relentless Zoom

Extreme regularity comforts his daily/weekly/yearly round. The very blinking of his eyes follows a constructed order. Habit is a tool of synchrony. Every move is both intentional and automatic. Every word both carries meaning and declares its place in a vast and abstract order, as above so below, with humankind in the middle. The structure of the sentence reflects the universe, reasserts the subject-verb-object paradigm that bounds and limits thought. Thinking of it freezes it in time. This moment is part of a plan, details continually emerging like Mandelbrot fractals, consistent to infinity, inexplicably symmetrical, the nagging thought of something else to do a relentless zoom. So the day unfolds, invisibly guided by Φ.

Her Ham

flummoxed non-appearing dinner guest
apparently entirely forgot although they
talked about it yesterday and this morning

it was her ham we ate some of it anyway
Carol's mashed potatoes my tapioca pudding
went down smoothly easier on our own

Here Too

I can do anything
make it up write it out
it as good as happens
maybe better the real
thing always clouded
with distraction error

the real is in the mind
time can be different

here too of course my
regular self as well

Each Oat

each oat opens existing satisfaction
between thought and utterance dream
and act as if you know what matters

nourishment and taste intermingled
with idea of wasting nothing eating
every morsel that comes your way

Present Tense

I said it all but it doesn't stay said
the sky darkens it's unnaturally warm
we are here at home thinking of others
far away in their own present tense

the point was made but doesn't stick
rain pelts and spatters on the skylight
other realities pulsing too many books
on top of books overcrowded shelves

oh let it just be you and me together
knowing each other knowing we know
sure of each other smiling and kissing
everything changes but not right now

Too Many

the Times makes it look like everything
is just going along all these aspects of
culture music fashion on Fifth Avenue
stuff happens people suffer but it's just
the regular way things always go along

longer Buddhist view is much the same
aging sickness death losing everything
get used to it 'twas always thus will be
meanwhile everything is going wrong
earth cries for mercy we are too many

Too Hard

intuitions of emergence make me think
thought should do something change me
not just flicker over the mental surface

one with everything in a physical sense
all of us nothing but quantum particles
rocks grass cars as well as you and me

epiphenomenal to the root and that too
hard to swallow impossible to see past
actually engage real meaning as it flies

Nap Time

rolls along the sentences
soporific it's the hour mid
morning already nap time

What I Say

what I say to the chickens
doesn't have to be interesting
or funny they factor me in
count on me for food water
treats even though they don't
understand how it works
there I am day and night
making sure they're happy

Coffee Later

morning toast
a different breakfast
who you are
homemade granola
orange juice
a second coffee later
leftover steak
after feeding the horses

Our Own

modern is long ago over
timeless individuals all
that survives of history
work that is what it is
whether or not a story

I like art by people I know
no less artists if unknown

or so we tell ourselves
present on walls if not
actually here happening
now never ending our own

Better Work

familiar blank awaiting [word]
revealing patterns unavoidable
deliberate adjustment required

the craft is learned by osmosis
in the doing lacking education
in languages chemistry geology

if I could think clearly I would
do better work and more be seen
by millions to be a great success

Too Scared

is it morning can I go to bed
inner racket of chewed nuts
conquering phlegm in a poem

if I go to bed early I wake up
in the middle of the night no
time to be awake and think

thus far I can rise up quickly
escape the harrowing dream
divert myself by reading books

too close to reality you say
what I was close to thinking
too scared to even tell you

At the Airport

Here and almost gone. Nothing special has to happen. Their lives are connected beneath the everyday surface. Nothing has to change. Emotion evident in her eyes as they drop them at the airport. Nothing has to be said. Nothing can be said, only recognized in yourself. Their lives are what they become. Nothing is complete, the fullest moment fleeting. The present suffices, building on the past, hoping for the future, not counting on it for redemption.

Try Harder

which one of them am I
now that everything's over
if not overcooked actually
it's perfect this way in fact
I took a picture I will post
somewhere else not here

that year I was stranded
between coasts and styles
trying to be fair knowing
better than think that way
remember what's real try
harder to go with the flow

another year might be this
unexpected farm life edit
books pursue my exercise
routine pleasures every day
friends books music love
realize repetition pays off

Family Occasions

love situations if any not the simple
telling personality aspect anticipated
resolution of imaginary sex roles no
more absence or fireworks celebrate
family occasions refocus awareness
of what makes it a usable story if
this then that can even be mentioned

Who Are You

if you have to be more than you are
how can you think of anything else
when you are in the middle of a task
that promises to go on many months
there is no way out you are yourself
choosing to do what suits your image
only the image is amenable to change
what kind of person do you want to be
are there kinds I wonder who are you

Middle Age

there must be something he wants to do
cities only answer if you're actually there
home is where he wants to go back to

middle age begins at forty not before
maybe not even then he can be young
a while longer mature whenever it fails

No Wonder

six almonds a mandarin
milk and honey buttered
toast no wonder I'm fat

not really but I do bulge
clothes still fit all right
I'm tall it's not a problem

am I to change my ways
cut out extras for a time
get thin again dream on

Two Loads

the leaves fell straight down mapping
the shape of the tree begging removal
wet heaps cumbersome barrow wears
older clothes takes two loads enough

the day warm no telling what's next
thunder close sustained mysterious
here in the middle north alien corn
may thrive native species sadly lost

the piano is an industrial instrument
expressing the world that made it up
ending history as we know it divided
like our natures mythic petty divine

Without Ears

silence arises when no one hears
the tree falls vibrations not sound
without ears speech requires them
as writing has to have eyes minds

the moment conceals its wisdom
take it for what it is it seems to be
vanishing even now pay attention
there may be more than you know

Another Project

working feels good
but takes up all my time
something to do
when there is nothing

awake at five allow
hours to fill with silliness
knowing later
work waits to be done

you make progress
another project for the list
such artifacts
add up to who you are

Fever Thought

eat less sleep more
speak not a word
excuse explain
no matter

write in shorthand
quickly catching
fever thought
fleeting

never a mistake
discriminate
honest you
arrive

Too Busy

unnumbered worlds reduced to this
we're on our own every one and all
in a soup together lumpy bubbling
lessons learned late flying as I speak

children have their parents while
relative strength allows real support
even then provisory anyone will do
you'll survive unloved if not in full

grow up responsible for themselves
too busy working to stay connected
they're on their own and so are we
recognizing time's insatiable hunger

among the many unenlivened worlds
organic accident's self-conscious ant
builds edifices out of thought against
unthinkable solitude imagined alone

Vertical Bars

touch the keys light
but definitely there
as if you want to be

doing this accounts
for everything good
news on a bad day

views out window
past vertical bars
horizontal clouds

Thus Writing

I didn't do it and now it's too late
not really
is what Alfred said meaning no
I can do anything I like
he remembered everything
I forget
thus writing diaries this
for a future that will never come

Step Out

only at this moment is it possible
to step out into the great starscape
accustomed as we were to seeing
we had never missed the universe

here it is again and we're still in it
eyes wide feeling our seven senses
agitated while we quietly stay home
imagining flight bullets flying free

On Reading

I only read in little bits
I can't read on for long
because it fills my head
with other people's words
words are thoughts thoughts
words can't think my own

I do read making my way
through Proust a second time
enjoying it more familiar
third probably better still
a dozen pages a night
just before I go to sleep

also another book or two
at the same time and we
read aloud after dinner
Nabokov "Speak Memory"
at the moment plus NYR
then take a break to write

In Light

the future is not necessary to the present
the past inevitable this is enough he thought
overflowing with emotion the poignance
of hair youth sincerity trying to be honest

what will happen hasn't yet and may not
something else will of course he realizes
the shadow falls the other way he is in light
digesting today's impressions and all before

Opening Up

did I or was that yesterday
everything said said again
reaching for completeness
closing in on opening up

strawberry jam bread milk
butter makes things better
my kinds equivalent luster
bares all American worry

My Velvet Chair

be more mindful
and stay relaxed

easy to say here
my velvet chair

worlds all gone
ours going soon

meanwhile this

Equally Real

the fan cuts off
the ringing equally loud
and behind that audible
silence
things happen
make a sound
or the sound is just there
electric
internal
equally real

All I Mean

ignore no signs
breath is tears
no words mine
this all I mean
brief owning
ideas their own
final emptier
steal the stolen
willfully illegal
unknowable id

Liberated Now

erect but unaroused can I say that
is this me measuring out these words

everything revealed is familiar to any
body who thinks about what they do

prioritizing being oneself rather than
pursuing some other goal for starts

what else is there than being where
you are not clinging liberated now

Cleaning Up

a minor smoke before anything settles
dreams good bad dismissed as transient
phenomena wet artifacts of cleaning up
one less obligation permits others grow

if I don't write it all down who will ever
see how charmingly complicated it was
rereading not reliving what I discovered
when I thought about it and wrote it out

is this thinking this translation to words
process like digestion breaks down fact
into usable elements organically rebuts
empty hour theory nothing can be done

Natural Ardor

my way is natural ardor
built-in discipline hardly
needs a second thought

motivation is time's warp
whatever is good for me
nothing never an option

this existence asks itself
making identity in action
without additional effort

Probability

the future may never happen
but it all too probably will

Clearing Skies

quick while you can catch the moon
through the clouds over the walnut
catch the warm night clearing skies
promise other possibilities washing
windows mowing whatever I will
quick catch the thought unformed
before the speeding clock chimes

Then Leap

this radical alternative is personal
unexpected coherent truly bizarre
continual decision a farceur's idea
of plot outcome inherent in youth

solidly set cling to circumstances
uncontrollable satisfaction is now
or never stops as nothing changes
then everything even being a self

count on that then leap into today
join confidence act calmly smile
play words as musical instruments
persist from the nonexistent past

Staying Sane

leave my operating system alone
I can live with its quirks I want to
write not play with my computer

same with clothes car life body
wearing out ripe for replacement
new shirts socks shoes a new VW

the rest may not be simple isn't it
swell to be so fine as if staying
sane solved the issue of mortality

Treats

an owl an Arthurian knight a ball gown
man woman child transformed again
no one comes to our door for treats

I am myself again for a little longer
laps easier after a mini-break music
playing itself when I find the groove

issues engage other kinds of writer do
my politics without watching the news
goes right on despite my rightful regret

Like the River

the real world largely irrelevant
I try to notice what's around me
but what does it matter weather
scenery flora fauna other people
barely register my consciousness
flowing like the river music time
the same awareness now forever

Active Waiting

something will come if I wait if I care
nothing more is required than waiting
which is to say time passing as it does

was I then less myself than I am now
never knowing what I would become
and when whether anything was done

a certain effort is made active waiting
hours at the keyboard practicing Fauré
or putting down words that say it all

Missing Kings

hidden aces missing kings life is
nothing like a game of solitaire
determined by the deal you can
make up your mind do whatever
works you like makes you happy
take advantage of peace freedom
health mobility while you have it
opportunity finds occasion to act

Making Faces

where we went when we weren't where we were
peppermint tea in the West Village yesterday was
what I did before I did what brought me here I sat
aching squirming reading writing drinking eating
making faces in the mirror finally made me laugh

Eating Dates

in the other kingdom in between
eating dates off an imagined tray
overlooked by unromantic eyes
misjudged by ill-prepared tastes

the kings are disappearing faster
when where is not reconcilable
and why is on hold until hours
pass with no one doing a thing

place was a construction of being
never to be seen again or missed
and time a geography of presence
literary people trapped in thought

what I remember is not what was
but the story we contrived to tell
what we wanted to be at the time
teases the possibility of meaning

Any Occasion

shut up mind stop spinning
words until it's time to say
or write them down I know
what I think having thought
enough about it all already

on the other coast it rains
or else it's drought we're
willing to be ourselves in
public as well as privately
prepared for any occasion

Waking Up

too depressing when freedom
turns into emptiness nothing
to do between sleep and meals

is this where life really leads
fragmentary distractions fail
to fill relentless recurring hours

I see it all around me the young
busy doing the old waking up
wonder how to survive the days

Rapid Retreat

black uncertainty shakes my inner
energy inadequate New York stairs
small appetite for repeating thrills
rapid retreat safe home only $200
action taken reservation changed

Small Regret

flight correction pivots tube redirects
over pebbly cloud paths northern fields
pairs of threes consider stretching time
confined to seats engineered to please

each landscape shapes a different life
neighbors not necessarily doing same
beauty noticed passing through again
never present for the scheduled kills

if you are reading what I am writing
we are both halfway across the land
earth's thin film of atmosphere fluid
enough to sustain my dubious flight

panic of going away from home pales
as the bright sun reconfigures hours
dark beneath scrambled cloud shapes
promising arrival with small regret

Besides Books

what else have I read besides books
music reveals its beauty reluctantly
the mind plays solitaire with itself

who told what would happen next
the cat licks its testicles soon gone
silence a buzzing crowd of ghosts

Fatal Trap

a neat puzzle set for the unwary
as if words meant what they said
think of them in a different order
no one can grasp what you mean
inarticulate in your own groping
frustrates the revolutionary cell

revolutionary will lacks language
you understand the words alone
the subject more or less defined
anything useful to say about it
subsumed in assumed solidarity
argue instead among yourselves

misunderstood you blunder on
insisting on hidden differences
mispronouncing provincialism
loyal to your blunt conditioning
necessary subtlety a fatal trap
silences the revolutionary call

Not Much

not long to do not much
he had better make a list
pick up cleaners books
back up computers pack
shopping calms anxiety
be clean and well rested
whatever he wears is fine

Bad Decisions

is this the way through
or am I already beyond

has the future happened
without anyone noticing

is it too late or too soon
for what won't be done

energized by negativity
we strove to stay level

that was so long ago it
doesn't count anymore

but I'm still here kicking
myself for bad decisions

Your Seconds

writing is time in action
my sentences your seconds
given freely rewarded well

we are here together after
all the confusion we love
each other and the world

Direct Observation

two worlds cross every other
meaning less than the first
when direct observation was
enough to be honest and real

reviews are about something
poems not necessarily what
I wanted to say was what I
thought about what I saw

is that what they meant if
anyone told me I didn't hear
free to speculate only later
realized how right on I was

how are the small town and
chickens relevant to who I
am or used to be thinking
I knew enough to be wrong

Like Bricks

demon time waits in a motel room
like any other he can do tai chi in
practically no space too much time
before he can sleep night through

words stacked up square like bricks
ready to collapse in an earthquake
we made it through another dinner
another horse coming to our barn

All Clean

did I tell you what happened
how I did what I meant to do
effortlessly rain or sun swam
I will have my books in time

asked to remember the room
where I lived for seven years
since gutted rebuilt all clean
smoke parrot shit music love

I have told you all that before
hard to hold onto other's lives
your own wavers as you look
even now its outline obscure

Better Version

some should say less
some should say more
what is the difference
which one are you
forever aspiring to become
a better version of yourself
and others wish you would
the fact is this is it or you
perfection a deadly ideal

One More

it has to work out
the fifty-two cards
the game is rigged
just not every time

so it is with life
it averages plus
children born etc.
or so it has so far

if you like play on
until you win one
then quit if you can
or play one more

Actual Content

beyond style is actually serious
Bach is not just using religion
as a pretext for music there is
the possibility of meaning what
you talk about when you write

"managing his inner doubts" is
not it I mean something more

beyond style is actual content
I realize Sam put me down for
merely mentioning its absence
called on it by my mentors I
stepped aside into acting it out
every day meaning is still there
beyond style the heart of human

Deep End

no password to my heart
only cobwebs in my hair
this momentous occasion
like any other night in fall

more men should exercise
women's workout music
rocks the swimming pool
I'm alone in the deep end

all this makes sense to me
in the major mode drama
remembered without envy
its time past my endurance

At Night

the cock crows long before dawn
full moon still riding high bright
colorless moonlight lying on land
the vegetation trying to be reborn
even at night dry restless lying still

dreams use themselves in dreaming
tell made-up stories of old friends
meeting in rooms we've never seen
fully furnished for others' odd use
like manuscripts eaten by the mice

All Out

big long turds are best
get it all out

Private Music

a low-flying plane inside his brain
augments the private music he would share
if anyone else would give it the time
let's all stop talking and listen
at any moment the music is enough

if he is trying to make a point forget it
everyone else has their own point
they are busily defending elaborating
appreciate them give up any idea
that particulars can be set aside

stop being yourself and try being me
for a moment shouldn't be so hard
that's what art can do if you let it
as a book opens personal fascination
to anyone who bothers to read it

Being Here

others have other ideas
odd that we don't agree
about anything really

even so we get along
grateful for variation
being here then gone

My Luck

can you be serious
another birthday dawns
pale Schubertian pink
existence trembles

saying what is true
is not so hard anymore
once choices are made
reality shows its face

circumstances kindly
forgive many lapses
recognizing my luck
treasure my refuges

In Parallel

where are my thoughts going along in parallel
forming and dissolving like the dawn weather
whatever it is was changing even as we speak

it's uncool to insist on one single interpretation
though there's nothing else beside imagination
saving situations otherwise devolve into chaos

there was something I wanted to say whether
I can do anything anymore and whoever with
enough solitary writing takes me only so far

Only Survivor

like the only survivor
I walked up the street
toward childhood home
we all want to go back
have never entirely left
becoming other selves
in a kaleidoscope world
fade out on another life

only I remain to recall
every detail of the past
redolent of a becoming
base identity in crystal
preserved in my being
alive I keep it all existing
when I wink out it's gone

Ancient Lust

dreams remember themselves or not
according to some mysterious inner
protocol signaling parallel realities
not just sitting there idle but active
forming pattern stirring ancient lust

I'll just sit here in the new October
morning working as a time to write
reading myself alive in intellectual
utility freely play words like music
ready to crystalize in the open air

My Story

was that yesterday or the day before
once it's over it's time to do it again

was that today or fifty-odd years ago
I never slept the phone always rang

is this my story or somebody else's
who told me everything about myself

Waking Up

the key to vitality is exercise
the key to exercise is consistency
the key to consistency is not letting anything stop you
such as not being in the mood
the key to mood is knowing it changes
the key to changes is knowing nothing changes
no that's not right
change is the essence of existence
even when we feel stuck
the key to existence is realization
the key to realization is waking up
the key to waking up is making moves
the key to making moves is to want to have fun

Too Late

the moral force of a fig
eat me it pleads
too late
throwing it in the garbage feels wrong
too soft
dozens more ripening
too many

Air Itself

character is style
you don't have to try
you can't get away
even if you want to

like smoke or air
itself still breathing
a person emerges
none can understand

existing is the point
you keep on making
your own sweet way
like everybody else

Mere Ecstasy

do I care what young people like
pop consumers gonzo on stars I've
never heard of so much for N+1

the biz never interested me even
when I was interested in every-
thing good imaginative unique

privately hip and still less now
thrills better than mere ecstasy
at the time but I wasn't happy

Shrinking Intervals

hair shorts boots echo Chopin
in the cluttered church a laugh
remainder of the ruined world

we went there returned empty
time passing fills shorter days
infinite movies feed the nights

animals rely on regular times
despite the shrinking intervals
ineradicable repetition satisfies

To Write

He wanted to write, just write, for the sheer pleasure of it, feel the words oozing out on the screen, which could be paper, forming patterns and shapes of possible meaning, which could be anything. The shifts from pen and ink to typewriter to computer had been momentous, the process once mechanical and laborious, drawing, then operating a machine, now almost effortless, letters appearing fully formed, grouping themselves into words, words grouping themselves into sentences and larger structures, bringing into being anything you like, place, time, story, idea, visual experience, emotion, with visceral dimensions evoked by activating memories of comparable personal experience. He wanted to play with it, like music with all its aspects, intelligence, craft, imagination, moods, kinetic energies, spirit. He wanted a reader to share his delight.

The Only Way

make moves what happens
is beyond your control but
if you know what you want
actions can make it likelier

I mean submitting my book
to agents and publishers it
seems to be the only way as
one says no approach another

Real Regret

is it real regret politely called in
I regret bombs on Arabs American
warships in the Persian Gulf spraying
death and destruction intruding on
other civilizations' historic anguish

An Anecdote

everything that happens
turns into an anecdote
if it doesn't maybe it didn't
undone by neglect and disregard
if anything can ever be undone

For Now

all right for now sums it up neatly
as I dig for meaning plan my days
do what I do now easily smoothly
completing moving on to the next

all right for now until something
goes seriously wrong we succumb
to unspecifiable inevitable doom
never mind we're all right for now

Present Tense

do I need Jim Thompson
what do I gain by reading
not for the memory doing
for doing forgetting O.K.

against the time I go blind
synthesized voices readers
alternatives abound looking
forward to the present tense

Where I Am

I don't have to go they come to me
it seems so gross transporting the body
clear across the country in a seated position

I am at the Jefferson Market Library
enjoying Magie's talk about the Caffè Cino
saying hello to Mari-Claire Paul Bob and John

I am outside 441 East Ninth Street
at the dedication of Frank O'Hara's plaque
remembering talk music a night with Joe LeSueur

they come to find me where I am
the body not so important anymore no one
flirts with me I don't need to physically be there

Way Out

can I say off base
is it a baseball metaphor
a military metaphor
a cliche
what is a better expression
can I use an existing expression
trapped in language
we repeat what we hear
trying to be understood
we say the same thing
because it is the same thing
we are the same
a middle class
artist-intellectuals
born in the 1930s
think your way out of that

Hippie Essences

Hölderlin in Chinese im Schwarzwald
thanks to Jonas Mekas longtime friend
I don't really know but love for being

hippie essences still fragrant beautiful
senses still respond exotic subtleties
beyond within every day's new collage

In Addition

the cock crows
he is up and writing
slow dim daylight
reveals parched lawn
time reforms resumes
anticipation of meals
regular activities to
punctuate the time
interaction with others
in addition to art
not quite saying
everything he means

Not Waiting

the situation is not desperate yet
not here but everywhere around
still to come inevitably deadly

wait for it as if not waiting being
oneself doing what one does to
beguile the time cultivate love

Too Personal

I wrote something else removed it
was too personal myself with other
keep it private for special reasons
not everything needs to be public

my own secrets ready to be read
if anybody's interested I tell all
my lesser moments with the best
friends better than they can know

Our Fate

air very smoky
good you're not
here is this our
fate not to be
able to breathe

How We Are

what is special blueberry pancakes
weeding blueberries Mozart Bach
tuna sandwich dreaming pingpong
modern dance typically undressed

don't ask and you won't be told
and if you are much is forgotten
in-between moves feeling talking
about how we are and understand

Higher Education

beneficial outcomes suggest low-dose lithium
would help neurons essential to human living
adjusted input normally preserves momentum

this is no substitute for thought and sensitivity
subtle insight arising if allowed and prepared
sharing enhances art's impact consequence

the impulse goes on without higher education
progress can be made by intention desirous
striving open inspired fast reading at random

More Emotion

did I say what matters more
emotion than everyone else
whether you were right or not
which of your powers failed

did you tell me what I wanted
to hear or what you believed
was true in the moment said
this is the actual situation

everything changes anyway
so even if you didn't reveal
what I wanted to know you'd
be equally certain to prevail

Equal Evil

Obama's rhetoric of good intentions
evades my hearing I cannot go along

something must be done while things
that really must be done remain undone

evil can only be destroyed by arms in
alliance with equal evil who will win

we are not better only not quite as bad
high-tech barbarity keeps hands clean

Health Benefits

is delicious enough
or do we require more
say nourishment energy
health benefits virtue
in the growing picking
transport preparation it's
impossible to be good

With Cream

say something or someone else will
destroy the precious silence sound
insist on being heard anyone'll do
continuously reporting whatever
happens to occur to you groping
over raspberry crumble with cream

Whole Person

first how old then gender name
hair color stature temperament
soon you have a whole person
doing whatever most people do
plus their own idiosyncratic life

we are made by what happens
our one chance spasm of time
eddies of energy dissolving as
we grope for permanence and
meaning beyond temporal fact

More Dimensions

quick while you have a
minute catch it before it
dissolves into something
equally important but not
the same nor will remain

some things have long-
range purposes most are
only now others operate
in more dimensions as if
sufficient to themselves

My Way

All I wanted was to know where we were so I could get oriented and find my way to the station to catch a train or bus back to the city.

Regular Meals

white-tiled bathrooms of my memory
white-tiled Italian restaurant on Third
Avenue close to Bloomingdales that
was a moment marked with meaning
time can't go back one must press on
regular meal times and everything else

Another Winter

one horse instead of four
five hens instead of six
seventy-eight instead of -seven
less work for "mother"
as the garden winds down
someone else to dig holes
build the arbor we designed
for the new archival rose
someone else to fix the gate
wool for another winter
before our language is lost

Friends Afar

how can I go without going
away enjoy the world engage
its infinite fascinating people
historical riches beautiful art
and also be here now with all
my mental powers body heart
thus read books watch films
correspond with friends afar

Lowering Clouds

we picnic under the oak savannah
noble widely spaced golf frisbees
rising into the leaves flutter down
spacious meadows under lowering
clouds release rain as we withdraw

Perfect Friends

an address is not enough
you have to name the city
and the country how will
you know if you are there
you can assume too much

this is my street my block
obvious enough if you are
me at this time in my life
no one can be in the same
location at a different time

too much information is a
trap door opening a void
gaps fond memories stick
each place you came often
looking for perfect friends

Weird Style

weird style attracts attention
who wants to be understood
learns to speak calmly as if
anyone knew what is meant

so pretend to be following
convention protecting cover
agree everything is simpler
than you truly know it to be

Blue Water

spontaneity arises spontaneously
connects impulse and opportunity
canceling time for thought remorse
forgotten memory revised as prose
heat sunk into sparkling blue water

No Cure

time gone leaves broken records
no digital shadow falls between
act opinion or intention outcome

we do not know better only this is
wrong and should be better done
our part in it ambiguous obscure

feeling bad about it doesn't help
there is no cure for passing time
only forgiving others and oneself

What's Wrong

I don't quite like this book
or anything always finding
fault ponder what's wrong
refined analysis of failings

this applies to myself too
well misjudge my efforts
better appreciate it as it is
even not rising to genius

no one as good as I hope
except certain musicians
perfect beyond necessity
because they can they do

Feedback

everything is out of control
just when sense is needed
crises erupting everywhere
too complex to understand
accumulated bad decisions
feedback greed rewarded
values warped for profit
tragic losses compounding
nothing we can do to help
short of suicidal sacrifices
we are disinclined to make

Living Theatre

on the table a small elephant
cast metal handsome his father's
a dagger a kaleidoscope the vial
from which poison was poured
into Hamlet's sleeping father's ear
is this precious or just natural living
theatre of objects expressing himself

In Short

from my perspective nothing is real
except my own living same for you

how then interested in anything else
except by form style relevance to me

we are the same awareness overlaps
thereby the world continues to exist

Surgical Reprieve

you have decided to be upbeat no matter what
and you are no matter who shows up what you
say emanates from an untouchable core which
makes everyone else irrelevant no one allowed
to bring you down or do I mean me something
about what I feel this sudden empty blankness
despite surgical reprieve a perfect summer day
converted into words seems entirely unneeded

These Few

who you really are if anyone does matter
if you take anything seriously including
your own foolishness and good repute
some people have a mission others not
so much doesn't mean they don't count

I'm sure there is more to say about history
among friends in the larger musical world
that these few are critical to keep it going
sustain the gains of the painful centuries
devote lives to pursuit of sublime beauty

Existing Forms

nothing is imagined all collage pastiche
recombination of existing forms words
themselves are found dusted off reused

sometimes I succeed some assemblage
makes me laugh outs a subtle feeling
truth emerging from unsuspected links

but it's all the same old stuff memories
lost found work of other writers stories
I've heard retold to a different purpose

Having Been

did I miss a whole day vanished
as they all do nothing registers

words are marks of having been
where you are not how you did it

This World

hard head bony shoulder
no comfort in this world

Crazy Ideas

how can the moment be the measure
subject to gross distortion crazy ideas
no most of the time you are quite sane
in your own way adequately balanced

night madness comes upon you and
you lose it entirely possessed stupid
convinced your derangement is real
permanent scarring eventually sleep

in the morning everything is normal
you sleep in it's nearly nine when you
get up revise your plan follow through
the day is normal everything as it is

Home Again

talking is the real game
win or lose it'll be over
you can be home again
before the score known

Close Enough

something quieter than music
disinforms reversals spelling
less than full more than any
if you listened close enough

be specific if you can reveal
the subject ensuing actions
further confuse drug wisdom
with promisingly lucid views

is it ironic or merely obscure
that you still don't know how
one thing leads to another or
who is the savior you await

This Me

did I do it today or not
one melts into another
the earlier forgotten
as if not actually lived

still I was really there
a self as much as ever
dreaming of old times
that never quite exist

at least not for this me
who does what he can
to make the time count
and now in fact he did

Elevating Thoughts

I didn't tell you about yesterday
the gym the quick trip into the city
the long conversation with Julian
Ajahn Sumedho floating my tai chi
on the familiar elevating thoughts
chuckling at his own youthful follly
where am I what should I do now

Extra Energy

coffee butter chocolate gasoline
rule our days like rampant drugs
unkickable because we love them
building pleasure on shifting sand
we crave reliable sources of fun
extra energy to get our stuff done

High Plateau

what am I not saying
to myself especially
sensing a transition
from what to what

each piece in place
next action follows
satisfyingly precise
promises nothing

no real complaints
requiring remission
from a high plateau
the vistas are wide

On the Farm

three to five minutes longer than
any memory or inspirational craft
something happening I don't know
sweetness remerging from the land
and us patiently trying to live well

raising food keeping house basic
model comfort can that be enough
so much time and space our own
every duty paid retire in luxury do
every pleasing thing we can imagine

fringe prosperity disguised as what
we have become after other lives
this the real this mobilized desire
stay healthy strong do what we can
independent twosome on the farm

Another Self

I am here you pass by
or the other way around

we may meet again
and not even know it

why should you notice
to me it can be nothing

I am old you are young
this equation irreversible

you are not who I was
another self passing by

Bouncing Back

simultaneously taste and play cards
different brains engage particles of
pleasure and regret rising seas don't
preclude senior pinochle party time
whether or not I was invited along

amazing that they can go on moving
despite the heat and wear lay eggs
gain weight follows not surprising
anymore attention bouncing back
before the revolution even begun

Imaginary Time

before the word what dawn
rises within globe of mind
swelling to take in all the
universes that might exist

this is not every day same
roll similar actions ritual
timing later is only older
energies burn from within

what is burning a question
whether man is self-created
expires or continuously is
opening further to the light

begs to differ from creation
myth itself a thing of word
spoken becomes actuality
defined in imaginary time

Plum Jam

instead I made plum jam
the tree so densely fruited
the basket filled up quickly

pitting was not too hard
boiling them with sugar
I read and let them burn

still I got three good jars
and a little more precious
treat for the winter ahead

Get Up

none escape yet beauty
arises in spite of our loss
will be twice awakened
realize first then get up

without old distractions
tiring of clear skies sun
welcome promised fall
forward positive change

Perfect Clarity

the writing writes itself once set going
every word replaceable by any other
as if parts of speech mattered the most

the opposite of what is meant is said
confusing the opposition sows doubt
that anything can fail to be understood

this goes on until bedtime at the least
murmured soothingly gradually slows
as perfect clarity emerges from the fog

Smiling

constructed by circumstance
process playing out the form

I see you smiling like myself
barely able to get the line out

sddaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Hot Night

what kind of salad serves Thespis
how accelerate the hot night tempo
without directing even then you can't

just to have an actor for every part
never short of opinions all can talk
and do whether or not I am listening

Its Mark

one good sentence after another
falls off my poor fingers into
the sky or memory what is the
point if no one will read them
what do they contain but life
its mark as if agreeing to it all

Who Else

go ahead say it I'm lonely
not lonely really but isolate
not enough friends or action
no one to talk to all the day
especially when you're away

of course I can't be friends
with any man of my own age
too lumpy not sexy annoying
feebleness preechoing mine
and who else wants to be

nothing to be done it's life
goes this way wish or not
unnecessary to be sorry I
wasn't someone different
did something else entirely

Thick Fingers

an unexpected glow
in the dark corner
he plays a little Mozart
anatomizing the turn
thick fingers nimble enough
mind momentarily there
then returns to words
as the sun rises
the light moves on

Two People

I talk to the chickens
and to you the "page"
none else to muse to
emptily walking about

one will have to be two
people in order to exist
to give and to receive
actually do something

The Source

strange noises disturbing when alone
like images unidentifiable intrusions
into familiar photographs like dreams

walk around listen more closely find
the source tells everything unknown
harmonies of color sound and person

too simple for a novel unremembered
passions deliberately provoked kind
friends ready to be called upon to help

Other Ages

forever trying to get from one place in Manhattan to another
as if I never outgrew my twenties or fifties never dreaming
other ages I have known as well or better thinking clearer
doing what I embrace instead of the old moth-like fluttering
want need can choose your verb for these unique occasions
each single pair of nights framing another unrepeatable day

Judge Not

continuous development multiple paths
mechanical racket distracting attention
paid work eludes elderly even if needy

John Burke analyses explains already
known facts benefit from being spoken
Apostolic candor replaces face-to-face

therefore be kind judge not be wrong
about how it feels to be someone else
or pretend to be other than as you are

This Once

we are all brands
each named product
selling ourselves

self-styled moniker
ineradicable
signed forever more

speak as yourself
creating the role
this once only

You May Be Right

perfect stories don't need to prick you
with their point they are not needles

things happen that's all you can really
count on say more you may be wrong

by the time you can explain it will be
over superseded by something strange

it doesn't follow that you understand
you may be right but it hardly helps

Frequent Errors

did you ask
what you couldn't have known
or did you think you knew
enough
already completely satisfied

what can we learn
from our frequent errors
ahead of the facts
or behind
shaping them to our pleasure

are you serious
about learning to be better
prepared
for whatever happens next
beyond your control

Refined Taste

everything offends me if I let it
bringing infant to piano recital
not knowing not to talk it's how
things are not everyone behaves

some scorn rules or don't know
some think they are stars couldn't
care less others can't help it the
whole damn thing has gone to hell

marketing now is to the young
what they're selling I don't want
refined taste defines a territory
glimmers of sanity within the flux

afraid of being too frank I waffle
obscure one minute naked the next
if I don't say what I actually think
what possible point to writing

Lean Back

relax
lean back
don't do anything
breathe
look about
observe the situation
you in it
now

My Skin

pieces of my skin a trail
around house and land
into Portland and back
a lively play at Full Life
Powell's Hawthorne
sleepy after lunch nearly
nod off driving home
nap tai chi in the park
tiny pieces of my skin
everywhere remain

A Friend

keep it simple
though it isn't

say it plainly
try to be clear

follow a path
through trees

each a friend
of somebody

Can Do

is that all I did
another hesitation
not remembering
more than I do

but the past is over
I told you already
everything I know
arises again anew

so plan a tomorrow
do what you say
be there if you can
no reason not

The Net

the net gives the game meaning
if you insist on meaning and not
just to bat the ball around sillily

how can we be friends you are so
and I am so both wanting to be
how we are accidentally formed

what we have in common what
we most deny random interests
choices for inexcusable reasons

Burning Hot

the sun is suddenly my enemy
blazing on me no matter what
my face is burning hot and red
even inside the car I am seared
how can I return the television
how can I do anything at all

Sudden Drama

too much and then you relax
seeing with one eye changes
everything is refreshed again
sudden drama plainest truth

To Perch

wouldn't it be pleasant to be a chicken
albeit briefly
someone like me taking care of every little thing
turning up morning and evening
supplying food water
safety
amused by one's behaviors
cheerfully indulging one's every whim
short of running away or squatting in the laying box
I unceremoniously push you out
to perch

Putting in Mistakes

not expecting you will be perfect
doesn't mean you shouldn't try
putting in mistakes on purpose
not necessary against the rules

too many words for the thought
my ideal minimalist efficiency
cool elegance exuberant design
where life can occur as it does

Twilight Blue

more research might not help me
unluckily I don't know how to learn
I take a chance and come up short
spend unwisely on pants a new tv
avoid shopping eager buy be done

buying a car went better explained
by the salesman reliable company
years of service provided for free
twilight blue suits our driveway
the tv if they'll take it goes back

Common Sense

pointlessness being
the nature of reality
cannot be intolerable
or we would not exist

what I meant to say
before that happened
no longer need apply
pressure already high

now it can be released
into effervescent space
withheld for advantage
contrary common sense

Infinite Spin

am I thinking what I think I am thinking
reading philosophy or something other
what I will do later or what it all means
how I feel right now and possible whys
one moon's egg one of myriad wrigglers
am plural in the singularity of presence
limitations habits vision contingencies
expanding narrowly within infinite spin
so be it how it is when I think about it

Genuine Smiles

nothing can be revealed
without embarrassing myself
and others more

music implies something else
going on as well
as what I say and pretend

little is allowed
despite apparent freedom
to do anything

genuine smiles
disarm indulgent parents
eager to do well

Early Rise

go ahead don't wait
anybody else doing
own Saturday night

tomorrow follows
no matter how late
children stay awake

you will be different
even doing nothing
might as well agree

give it your all then
go to bed yourself
ready for early rise

Various Cuisines

our different musics
illuminate sharings
otherwise obscure

our various cuisines
reveal alternative
everyday assuming

individual rhythms
define our choices
make ourselves up

Mutual Support

they like me well enough
and I like them despite our
different tribes and tastes
they don't know what to
make of me I'd need time
with each to tell them all
they don't want to know
age invalidates my view
so I say less than I think
take them as they present
a flicker of recognition
affirms a mutual support

Will Revealed

everything done that could be done
or anyway was done
was enough

an alliance
strong as the strongest member
tested at games

the moles' predations
humble all alike
still will revealed prevails

High Heat

at least no one takes my glasses
found on piano where I left them
day of high heat honest good
rewarded with perfect summer

cooked with Julian gazpacho
Dick Wade clams pesto pasta
salad cooling off with croquet
taking care of every loose end

Moving Slow

everything has a place it lives
I alone know where that is
I am the place patrol restoring
order for a further dissolution

calmly give in to the situation
opting in or out of activities I
might like if I were otherwise
compromised if you think so

back sore from picking up the
pingpong ball feet sore from
all day on them moving slow
between the group and baby

Making Excuses

automatically opposing opinions
justify any arbitrary reasoning a
new idea barely stands a chance

I opt out of the conversation let
others say what they think is true
of random generalizations at will

creeping misinformation affirms
self-contradicts wishful thinking
offers excuses for every wrong

knowing it better doesn't change
loss of bridges dams bring down
banks effectively accrete comfort

Personal Choice

being here now thinking talking Taos
or movies "Brick" or "Henry's Crime"
after pingpong tennis soccer croquet

baby being herself learning language
observant expecting to be surprised
potent life force avid self-propelled

generations gather in the gloaming
under the walnut tree linked by love
history blood tribe personal choice

While Doing

I don't need to stop to think
it doesn't help
I can think as I am going along
while doing
often something else
thinking I remembered earlier
why can't I remember now

Good Intentions

surrounded by clouds bad situation
saved by Bach unusually astringent
cheerful good will from the tire guy
afternoon momentum last requests
accepted without rancor or regret

the clear blue sky is there unseen
in memory of memory of an ideal
summer now even more perfected
everything done enough to satisfy
good intentions translated into acts

Only Now

waiting for something to happen
no end of tasks demand attention
measure time unheededly running
tirelessly defining proportion taste

this the steady rhythm I depend on
foursquare diligence fully flowing
each deed predicting its follow-up
playful variants fabricate interest

he aspires to abandon first person
observe himself without judging
accept the situation bad as may be
as well as good that is only now

All Me

if I were able to think I would better discover
what I wanted to say to help you understand
how does that matter you would still consider
your own opinions more germane than mine

you knew better than to eat my vegetables no
salt which I sprinkle generously shaking the
horse-headed tapered glass watching its level
go down all me chasing the remembered taste

let it go the secret is the details do what you
have to do implies a demanding muse forcing
beyond comfort or practicality as if sacrifice is
liberation into a higher realm or quicker club

Monday Morning

what happened yesterday
might easily be erased
or else it was a regular
day of rest a little work
why am I embarrassed
mind is allowed to idle
Monday morning comes

Caught Napping

thought is now or never
caught napping shocked
into semblance of action

our own strawberry feast
shortcake al fresco once
to celebrate this summer

everyone coming in mass
meantime five days alone
doing innumerable chores

Powered Up

new life requires our batteries be charged
everyone has to worry about it nowadays
how we wanted to live when we grew up

not that it matters mostly but then it does
reading writing driving rely on batteries
nothing to do and no place to go without

powered up devices shine wink and beep
Christmas toys too readily lost or broken
needing batteries no one bothers to supply

Written Word

if I did I don't remember
that's what writing is for

crisp enunciation passé
pity reserved for others

neither did same things
finding self in originality

if written word remains
meaning what you will

Actual Opinions

have I said everything or nothing
too much or not enough revealed
embarrassing privacies or held my
actual opinions selfishly unspoken
afraid to reveal what I really think
or offered more than anyone cares
to know or can possibly remember

Two Hours

this morning is as far away as
England in the twenties numb
from war brilliantly smart

yesterday has vanished entirely
like cave men's memories of
time before the internet

I don't want to look backward
glances suffice to remind me
of all I didn't know

nothing to regret if it doesn't
exist like a movie or moment
two hours and it's over

Inner Landscape

the dog carried it for example
the it being a special kind of
easel I needed for my work

that kind of obscure reference
inexcusable yet reveals what
might be an inner landscape

France first not this reality
on the frontier of a vanished
nowhere never meant to be

accepting the premise I go on
living forward as if the past
were only fodder for a book

Natural Fibers

cotton underwear
wool socks
linen trousers
silk shirt
cashmere sweater

Dumb Luck

what each one thinks changes everything
but doesn't stop the killing is it thus not
worth considering all the other factors no
a double negative never really a positive
I doubt the possibility of learning more

this is as much as I can hope to understand
despite a bottomless craving gnawing at
the root of each day's dramatic sensations
booming hollowly when struck dumb luck
brought me here I may go no farther on

My Bark

wild laughter where did you go
sadly muted generational glee
sprang out in my father's voice

at Toastmasters he practiced
telling jokes standing up to a
fear of being completely seen

my bark sounds just like his
vague in self beyond situation
when I catch myself doing it too

Random Rolls

the game is not serious
I'm way ahead then lose
is this what farmers do
obliged to stay home to
feed and water animals
keep even with the flora

the lawn is largely weeds
mole holes dirt patches
what grass there is long
unpredictably resistant
no one more favored all
subject to random rolls

My Chair

time is a cycle traveling
things do not return to normal
conversation is not repeated
with the same intent

entertainment leaves me out
cold comfort is merino wool
from REI next to the skin
I never want to wash it

even this will not persist
rain full moon lingering
my chair and footstool
familiar in the lamplight

Good Night

no hurry now that you're safe
I can abandon that melodrama
complete with ambulance cops
total disruption of normal life

expecting us to play croquet
under popcorn clouds I read
Meg Wolitzer on the veranda
mallets and balls at the ready

you never came back from
planting spinach and then you
disappeared completely I was
lost in fiction and fading light

then I found you at your desk
watching some alarming video
about Ukraine or the Tea Party
having imagined I wasn't here

meanwhile I put the chickens in
refreshed their water gave them
treats collected eggs one each
thanked them and good night

Haiku

sun on my feet
moving slowly up my legs
morning advances

I Wonder

and if I couldn't do any of this anymore
what would I do instead I wonder this
more than death too will come need not
even give it thought solution is part of
the problem arises in its own sweet time

seriously I would listen to damma talks
meditate breathe observe the miraculous
world actually listen to music without
also doing something else everything
goes on all the time no matter what

Even Trouble

it's not completely dark
the moonlight makes everything a ghost of itself
carrying on in a world without color

are we like that
imagining ourselves acting in the play of our lives
before an audience of mirrors

think about alternatives
while remaining in the preexisting condition
we hate to love

or change our outlook
having children close is precious even trouble
proceeding on life's own agenda

Each Light

in a dark theatre
each light is deliberate
nothing arises
without acts of choice

entirely contrived
unlike writing
which is natural as speech
if speech is natural

writing is a substitute
for speaking
since no one wants to listen
to what I want to say

words naturally arise
to express our reactivity
our human lot
vulnerable in bodies

It Works

They all come out even, sorted, hierarchical within families, just as you almost always get what you expect. You could do something else, eat sausage, anything, but mostly don't, mostly rotate through your system, worked out with much confusion over more time than you can imagine, much less remember. It works. You could take the trouble to describe the situation in meticulous detail, but why go into all that? It is what it is.

Too Tired

too tired to go to bed
I might as well stay up

whatever I think I write
wishing always to be read

whatever I write down
may be used against me

an innocent person
is not thereby protected

some wish to be watched
others to exist in private

there is nowhere to go
that will not be known

Warm Joints

external demands constant adjustment
pleasing when it all goes well more or
less tennis while it rains in Paris here
sun shines all week water warm joints

doing what needs to be done satisfies
rightness a form of balance my need
when one line finished on to the next
day of stepping uncertainly forward

While Waiting

the worst problem was that I had to pee
or thought I did so while while waiting
for AAA I walked up Water Street to the
coffeehouse which had just closed Jim
was still there but he didn't turn around
so I continued up the block to the wine
bar where Kevin kindly obliged problem
solved the day had turned out beautiful
having imagined an ice cream I enjoyed
a toffee from the chocolate shop didn't
say anything to Victoria when she passed
although I might have wandered out onto
the hidden bridge over the rushing creek
went back to the car got my jump drove
around a while to charge it up and had
my swim after all although a little late

The Ape

not humanity but me
I am the ape evolved
to think about itself

As Words

moon cliff private
pity for the spirit
seeking the truth

renamed as words
linkage evanesces
empty of meaning

replay as human
I feel your pain
unquietly expire

Not Seen

why are they hiding Bowe Bergdahl
said to be in good physical health
released by the Taliban but not
by American authorities why not

nothing is said about his person
he is not seen by his own family
he is held in a series of hospitals
who is afraid he will tell the truth

Stolen Wealth

"The world order is a unity made up of multiplicity." —Marcus Aurelius

a catalog of crimes
against the earth
and all its beings

a list of countries
with civil wars
bad governments

diseases thieving
leaders prisons
rising waters

our faults as well
injustice greed
broken systems

crises we share
overpopulation
stolen wealth

write everything
that's going wrong
and how to fix it

Questions

Is it virtue to go to the gym and the swimming pool and do yoga and tai chi and take care of one's body?

To clear gardens and plant flowers and grow our own food?

Is there room in the world anymore for connoisseurship of beauty and craft?

Still There

unable to remember
things I was doing
or even where I was
hardly a moment ago
what's wrong with me
I was dreaming body
lying still mind there

Another Layer

sometimes one cause sometimes
several everything leads up to this
moment and back to more possible
outcomes before the die was cast
Caesar at the Rubicon before that
something else could have been

every moment is like that chosen
or not never a choice to avoid it
another layer peeled back done
flutters out of reach even if you're
not quite finished understanding
what you did what may do now

Far Worse

if birdsong doesn't help what else
can I do or say thought my enemy
words idle arrangements of letters

day distracts me while it wanders
forward hours demanding actions
constrained like a too small valise

not the future but the now impels
vain flight into dark unbreathing
would be far worse if it was bad

do I dare go back to bed beside
myself squirm against gravity's
unavoidable unwinding descent

Other Opinions

playing Bach for a two-year-old
seems important enough to do it
as beautifully as we can happily
augmenting the day's perfection

later we talk and wander about
watching her opinions solicited
orders obeyed we non-parentals
keep other opinions to ourselves

No Air

writing swims through time
like a diver exploring a reef

instead of water I find air
all things fall to the bottom

what fluid do I swim in
how propel myself ahead

words as letters all around
free loaded with meaning

suddenly no air or gravity
what am I to breathe now

All Sides

fragility of certainty of who I am seeing
this play's dazing brilliance disliking the
new lights shining in my eyes changing
color without defining space or character

everything is flat lit from all sides once
again advanced technology undoes years
of thoughtful subtlety considered power
wasted on rationalizers living in ideas

My Choice

verbal selfies justify existing protocols
redefined language obsolete distinctions
not held against me for furthering work

no such thing unpublished by my choice
await successor distribution savor books
technology still supported accessible to all

Life Choices

almost time for whatever's next on the agenda
implicit in a long sequence of key life choices
none of which I can regret without denying an
integral step in the drama of becoming myself

Begin Again

delirious housework satisfies nesting
birds sing pleasantly daylight's out
no more color in the natural world

almonds are a beneficial nut several
a day involves going to the store I
need a few of my obligatory foods

then it'll be time for something else
begin again shoeless feeling the rug
completion available the way familiar

Highest Value

continuing happiness nothing to scoff at
Theravada accords it the highest value
Mahayana wants you to sacrifice it to others
happiness can afford to be generous kind
not having to work anymore helps too
maintenance not preclude improvement

Stop Time

A good idea attracts images like honey flies, they swarm around it, but the thing itself is intangible and evanescent. That's why philosophers seek a system, where they can attach their ideas, and return to them, and reveal their significance. Otherwise we spend all our time blundering into rooms that have been explored already infinite times, and long ago stripped of their treasures. Does a thought need to be new to be worth uttering? Aren't we all always referring to the same underlying realities of transcendence and mortality, imagination and reality, drops trembling on the edge of time? Is it a point, line, or plain (plane)? Our only (limited) option is to move horizontally or radially, perpendicular or at least aslant to the arc of time's arrow. Only mind stops time.

Rain Light

exhilarating cloud circus cheers spirit
brilliant sunlight lowering clouds rain
light brightening colors flowers round
about knee strengthening toe mending

I'll iron by daylight let my routine go
where other people's needs impinge
welcome interaction interest helping
buoy us forward to more radiant life

Another Level

shaking dancing slow-motion relaxation
seeing saying the words releases energy

merely reading about Mila Repa brings
enlightenment whatever else is going on

writing tells itself what it wants to mean
another level hidden behind the content

Not Stop

Flanagan not Finnegan how easy it is to
slip these days not look not see not stop
scare self mindfulness critical every sec

How It Is

nobody says anything substantive about anything I write
and if they do I can't take it in I think I have been thinking
about this for years anything you think I have already thought
and decided to do what I did never enough which is not always
true Alfred had several precious thrilling thoughts about "Life
Before Death" they went right through me exquisite at the time

thus I really have no idea what gets through what I have made
if I can persuade anyone to read it who reads and isn't already
reading several books they have enough books without mine
still I want to be read to be heard to share my story not to be
misunderstood in this little time crystallize keen perception
how it is to be alive here now me you anywhere always

Can't Wait

deny nothing doesn't make a positive impression
like fessing up to every trivial slip and peccadillo
obscured by success lies in wait when you finally
fall pick yourself up and pretend it was deliberate

they didn't hire you to be nice when you weren't
it all added up because suffering doesn't count
except to the sufferer and fading sentimentalists
who can't wait to see you go through it all again

Not Alone

tragedy strikes suddenly everything
is normal then out of the blue it's not
you don't see it coming or if you did
you didn't believe it never wanted to
know this part of life's confoundment

you are not alone in it everyone else
affected too but only one or very few
is in the bullseye with you shattered
and having to go on somehow doing
all that tragedy requires to get better

Editing People

I feel inclined to edit the world
I want to laugh and have fun not
worry about everything all the time

people can keep their personal style
and good-bad taste just clean it up
correct the grammar simple errors

clear away all the roadside trash
it's a beautiful country underneath
places don't have to be so messy

get rid of all the stuff that's broken
and not being used or taken care of
paint scrub tidy up make it look good

editing people is more problematic
obviously there are far too many
I have no idea what to do about that

Palpable Progress

unable to do everything
I can still do something
make palpable progress
wishing garden beautiful

typical middle of spring
too much for just us two
instead of writing I weed
hoping help is on the way

All Right

about to be touched I shy away
knowing that feeling will fade
unwilling to invest my capital

it's all right I've done it enough
embraced risk rich in rewards
memory as good as experience

How To

I think about doing it for months
years suddenly do it and move on

transparent crisp routine reveals
nothing convention habit process

determination to go on powers
ever-fresh revelations of how to

Main Players

I knew your mother and father
and yours such wonderful people
and mine how can they be gone

complicated lives personalities
to reckon with so much at stake
and not even existing anymore

the main players in our drama
left the stage what are we to do
but finish the story they began

New Doctor

my new doctor looks at me
asks me probing questions
makes notes on a computer
shares some personal history
has me take off everything
examines me thoroughly
looking touching listening
makes a few suggestions
excises an annoying bump
just exactly what I wanted
ready to trust and like her I
do even more than expected

Too Late

I haven't been to this part of Africa before. It's beautiful. I am expected to cook something, but I don't know what, or why. The food here is the best I've tasted. Really!... Anticipation of new doctor prompts life review, like someone dying. How much can I say about what I want? Is it too late?... It is too late for the low ground, the ocean front, sea-level islands, coastal cities. Hundreds of millions of people will have to move. The Willamette Valley was once part of the ocean; we are safe from it for now, but earthquakes may increase...

Weeding the Path

pull the grass plants one by one
roots yielding bring up clumps
of clinging soil through gravel

gloves make gardening possible
can I think without speaking or
writing idea sufficient to itself

conversation with myself agree
how right I am about everything
how willing to sit on the ground

Help Her

how to relax do what needs to be done
what your true heart suggests help her
play solitaire exercise pick more irises
make soup eat wash the dishes feed the
chickens write read practice Beethoven

Only Time

eyes cross species we meet
individuals circumstances
irrelevant to the encounter

how we came to be here is
a lengthy story in any case
this our first and only time

count it part of a day that
counts like every moment
existing planetary mortal

Usually Better

there goes the sun after three
days of summer cloudy skies
falling water don't mind rain

water should be portable like
words the ultimate virtuality
and pictures equally abstract

weathermen wrong as usual
predicting something worse
what happens usually better

May I

May I
take a day off

Better Art

optimistic in spite of knowing better art is
what you were trying to say or maybe not
all ideas are naive even decadent indecent
music better than words can more specific
about actual experience the rest machinery

Forced Fight

privacy if you want it shade
from the burning sun if warm
enough comfort for isolation

poetry a form of song sounds
in the mind through eyes or
ears needing to hear it twice

weeds invade claim garden
entropy in action forced fight
to balance anarchy and order

My Bones

many little things and one
big thing accomplished in
a day feel it in my bones

No Complaints

if I don't write it down
what point this musing
Buddhism too vague to
counter night thoughts
reading writing reliant
uncertain eyes mind
squirms within driven
bed comfort gone bad
no complaints allowed

Interesting Ideas

come somebody with interesting ideas
stage work not just shooting the breeze
do I have to read a book I guess I do
a composition authors delight in craft

in real life meanwhile we meet enjoy
talking thoughts need to sprout actions
with consequences pushing us beyond
what seemed to be limited experience

everything that can happen already did
I still have to be creative write every
day not pressing for results the which
never last just be doing what I like best

What I Do

how can I tell whether saying
alters anything might happen
fate illusory though generally
plans pan out we slowly learn
limits of continuing to exist

as we are moved to tell our
stories expect more response
each mainly interested in our
own tolerating mutely judge
see ourselves among the rest

another humbling experience
can't hurt who I know myself
to be revealing special insight
artfully expressed many years
of practice result in what I do

Particular Loves

how the wars are affecting us
will not be known until we're dead
meanwhile the sky is pink with beauty
we have our particular loves to cherish
losses and afflictions to absorb endure
spring is late but coming right along
our houses cleanable dinners eaten
poems written history somewhere
else where Obama did better
unnecessary wrongs forgiven
vengeance deferred forever

Different Scales

all different scales people pretend
to be statues beautiful and alive

many people are normally sized
only a few doomed to pedestals

No Excuse

piles of books wait to be read
books about books better than
what actually happens politics
distracted suffering grotesque
mistakes men mad with power

art is no excuse for forgetting
only sensibility counts loving
one other person at a moment
and as long as you both live is
equally the story remembered

I have to go on doing what I
can more or less as time goes
past filled full with responses
acting on choices made earlier
saying what could be expected

what is remains alive despite
certainty chipping along seams
identity nipping heels running
between tasks of self-becoming
obligated to relish playing me

Dangerous Road

I don't like that feeling about to
fall over befuddled but I like it
better than panic failing strength
too far from home on a dangerous
road even if someone is with me

I barely glimpse it don't let it get
the upper hand still it scares one
faceless black-robed scythe ready
that's how death will feel prepare

Hasty Cuts

Proust writes Fin insists on dying
although not really finished hasty
cuts deprive readers of good parts
he surely would have put back in

what a weird sad story and yet he
kept going out balls boys the Ritz
agreed with Gide he'd left out the
sweeter side of being homosexual

writer suffering for art we owe to
him asthmatic self-eccentric rich
overdoing drugs relentless giving
too much conjuring the great book

I Belong

the house is dark
it's where I belong
my love is in it
watching television
our stuff all over I
walk right in close
the curtains and
turn on the lights

All I Have

trying to express what really is
to rise to your deserts be specific
instead the details slip away my
thought ephemeral as a dream

if I could say what I mean I would
instead apparently holding back
fragments all I have to offer not
finding the time to say it better

is all we can do nod sagely seem
to share the other's understanding
nothing in words except artifacts
confirming what we already know

Still There

it isn't as late as I thought
time passes but it's always
like this Paris still there if
you wanted you could go

of course it's not the same
after the war another war
another civilization ruins
love lost art in fragments

final days if you think so
meanwhile this is what is
existing despite its errors
with or without my words

My Story

nothing stops even if I do
and I can't even if (when)
I want to although I can
make subtle adjustments
change habits or merely
take a refreshing break

things happen anyway
and I play a leading role
this is my story after all
as long as my character
isn't sidelined killed off
misses his entrance cue

Half Past

one or half past anything the same
single bong means time to get up
or nothing doing whatever you can

asking the dream for meaning may
delay gratification until tomorrow
if then you could change your mind

such signals permeate our house
like drying laundry Prokofiev and
Brahms so it must be Wednesday

Fresh Water

who could have known what you would have thought
when you were alone in the middle of the night
which you were in spite of not being

ring for the servants get them out of bed to bring tisane
or another pillow opium fresh water flowers music
something to distract you from the dream

the mood passes in twenty minutes if you can survive
that long wanting to die do everything imaginable
to get away from being your demented self

Urban Angst

wondering twice if spontaneous
portraiture allows eccentricity
urban angst improbably airy

no more random juxtaposition
jokingly practical remembers
who I did it with where when

this is the day of renunciation
implausibly taken with water
before waking to a better way

Right Away

did I do it apparently not
will I certainly right away

Existing State

let me know of changes if you
notice every word every letter
scrutinized it's not that hard
if you can pay attention brief
candle in darkness of asking

empty interior vastness the
negative space used-up time
echoing non-attachment to
offer what you mean in the
fewest possible word-things

then it is morning another
enters anticipating chores a
trip a farm experience waits
whenever you're ready I will
continuation of existing state

Do It

maybe I shouldn't even start
we can get along without it
function perfectly well as is

there is such a thing as too
much of anything good bad
indifferent to final results

someone else will do what
really needs to be done we'll
manage well enough for now

another person is speaking
an opinion I don't endorse
I'm for diligence and do it

Another Sunday

if no tickets we can't go
thwarted as one used to be
going to movies in New York

something else would happen
no doubt equally interesting
see the play another Sunday

Droning On

I thought the birdsong was part of the music
then I heard it where there was nothing on
they're part of the world our music is part of

why do I mind mechanical voices droning on
at the other end of the house I close the door
never no sound highways animals machines

the background roaring is my blood moving
nerve circuitry always faintly feeding back
beyond that the cosmic hum it's all part of

Vain Ideal

it felt too good to be bad I thought
at the time unwilling to give it up

circumstance conveniently limited
any actual pursuit of the vain ideal

enjoyable sans impossible action
compromising bliss of corporality

nothing to do with oneself there
by the happiest chance then gone

Higher Mind

"He didn't move at random from one idea to another, but he did believe a superior logic would impose itself if he gave it a chance." —Ronald Hayman, "Proust"

only afterwards was anything possible
until then he was blocked afterwards
released to consider before and now

more past less future not personal
unless it is your life mine elsewhere
imaginary literary holy being-space

idea survives the body proving what
that what we think trivial is essence
that a higher mind shapes utterance

Pile On

if I was not writing or reading
what would I be doing exactly
now or any old time feeling fit
I wonder just sitting here still
spinning mental thread a mill
in mind an empty warehouse

this the space I need to grow
evenly various densities ask
different energies deploying
emotion interpreted thought
confusing requirements pile
on even in perfect silences

Before Lunch

like notes on the page
representing sounds
words stand for some
other medium coolly
arranged in rhythmic
order suggesting less
content than hot milk
comforting food ideas
arisen and dissipating
in pastel morning light
like your own dreams
flat shapes aping time
taken with breakfast
reprised before lunch

My Zone

ladies bouncing in the shallow end
I keep to my zone crawling through
the fluid flailing legs swanning arms

intricate molecular connection past
reason shows in liking my chickens
as if called to appreciate their eggs

Fading Out

all your effects are chosen for you
by the designers of possibility options
limited by alphabet and circumstance
thus you can say you do what you can
as body with its own imperatives decay
in the sense of musical tone fading out

I do not mind cannot must not while
the clock is running so am I and you

Knowing the Words

as if writing rehearse knowing
the words must bear repetition
behind them the story behind it
the meaning lurks there is one
never to be explicitly revealed

specificity is not diminishing
after all the posturing and art
comes doing between resting
and being that can't be helped
beyond listening responding

Story Selves

not the only one bewildered
Sam perfectly pictures life
as lived if thinking like us
looking for the story selves
needing first of all to be told

I'm done wandering around
disintegrated western towns
looking for what never was
imagine being someone else
staying put feeling complete

almost who I thought I'd be
living the old way inside the
outside changed but not here
earthbound safe from all but
natural inescapable mortality

Every Minute

I don't have to do anything
to be doing something all
the time and more undone

weaving and unraveling
makes every minute mean
hardly moving in my chair

nothing actually is enough
to be ready for something
besides what's happening

Trivial Choices

to each his path of beauty given
birth among the class of success

such is the fate of trivial choices
seen having already been made

aha you realize at last what you
might have done if you'd known

or cared enough to do the work
aware molecular winds of light

merely to read or play solitaire
equalizes nirvana opportunity

Lying Flat

existing in the mind enough
for a favorite word or place
story placing persons where
it can be known when it was
is or will be done with being

demap or not good method
sees news in nothing doing
unread billions sleep better
if ever awake to where they
rose from actually lying flat

Movie Faces

I'm not sure about anything
well Beethoven surely Bach
wily Rembrandt full of heart

don't get me started listing
movie faces human bodies
awkwardly designed for love

if you believe that anymore
you're lucky still to be alive
with so much art behind you

Only Here

sensible opinions on everything satisfy craving
this I saw and these correct thoughts about it
must convince any open-minded right-thinking

reader across vast gaps virtual simultaneity as
if where you are merely background scenery
the play never only here now somewhere else

past future fantasy dream all as real as actual
the moment of appreciation comes to a point
alternately gleaming painful ever all there is

More Fun

no one to lose then how
can you have any game
all work no play no fun

game needed to pull in
players working richer
when they win is it fun

playing music not easy
worth effort practicing
helps makes more fun

conversation is a game
if you're serious enough
play the stakes as fun

Her Work

swim swam swum if my passages allow me
more air flow all night in the morning rain
if I know what else is going down how can
I be here keep doing what I choose to want

nothing stops Judith from doing her work
old age she says is when you become who you
really are what you’ve been building up to
more complete unstoppably being herself

That Child

who is that child
Dickensian who
materializes in
the enclosed air

me as a pauper
pitiful hungry
lost in fog
then gone

Angel Wings

still flying coach
implies what you will
angel wings

Too New

something like winter yields reluctantly
to something like spring nights still cold
buds shivering swelling in warm sunlight

nothing is normal anymore new seasons
too new to declare themselves old rituals
continued pleasantly against cruel odds

Not Knowing

I'm not sure I ever went or said
anything about it sometimes I
think I've said something when
I've only thought it or thought
about thinking about it myself
my private thoughts confused
with not knowing who thinks
or what about apart from tasks
planned in advance that need no
thought to be actually performed
and spontaneous kisses and hugs

Counting Steps

what I had to say
when I wasn't counting steps
in order to come out even
was to make people care
even if they didn't

you have to pay attention
to something write
something wear something
is naked a costume if worn
inside a costume

therefore I quit
one job after another
ran down I had to move
kept saying what it was
doing what I did

Time Stops

life passes moments do not recur
yet my gesture is the same practiced
deliberately enjoyably grooved this
step this posture as if stopping time

time stops for the perfected moment
eternally returning its investment
pleasures fading whisper of rain
approaching in the darkening light

Cheering Up

my hardon lingered pleasantly
into lunch felt good and I needed
cheering up if I don't write it down
what's the point if you know what I mean

One-Eyed

needle in the eye
tiny painless one-
eyed all afternoon

I still can see to
write and read
words and music

fog primarily
wrong glasses
eyes bruise red

Another State

the ageless I still there in silky sheets
knows dawn must again become day
must rise and go on to another state
meaningless regrets a piece with life
existing all along delusions renewed
apparent sameness sweaty costume
wanting seasons to show I can move
does this reasssure me or discourage
fresh understanding continuous ego
waking from dream to truer thought

Be Glad

expensive teeth demonstrate togetherness
I can't even begin to compete but I'm here
too old to consider reconstruction chewing
well enough be glad I still have all my own

these are the standards I'd rather not face
satisfied to admire the views the polished
ivory and presentation rewards to follow
close to where I never really wanted to be

likewise new buildings and improvements
not necessarily bettering the old originals
dangerously dry conditions advertise error
of bringing so many people into this world

Final Score

other places excuse different action
arising easily among strange sights
having been here before I know my
way around and up down stairways
familiar vantage changing personnel

did I say small town theatre tennis
as dramatic as musical virtuosities
vegetation obscured by light effects
topless palms empty galleries still
awaiting the evening's final score