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