Not Me

dreams introduce confusion
like a good manager this is
me but not me you but not
the way you really are says
nothing may even interfere

they linger into the day like
something you have lost or
forgotten to remember is an
effort rewarded by salvage
of what you no longer need

Chalk Smoke

if I do not mention silence it is because there is none
the bird scrabbles against the window the furnace
switches off if there were I wouldn't be able to hear it
through the hissing in my ears the outside penetrates
attention caught where given undistracted opportunity

if there were I would treasure it not afraid of emptiness
unnatural state imagined as it never was or could be
a blackboard never clean but clean enough its natural
texture not too smooth or black chalk smoke from banged
erasers soft thud helps teacher interrupted by the bell

Get Down

dreaming of a self looking for
the pair of pants I'm wearing
go to the city and come home
get down in the dirt and weed

writing music unfolds in time
and has an emotional itinerary
says Corigliano through Muhly
so think ahead to make a thing

Dead Parents

what is not there is not missed
unless it is like dead parents I
can't believe they are not alive
wondering how I am hoping I
am fine having their own lives

I saved "Heidi" from the library
stack Malina will like it as I did
when she is older I will read it
out loud to her if I can still read
and she comes to visit Grampa

Tell Me

I often do and as often don't
he said tell me but I won't

I know what I want to know
even though you wish I didn't

and I won't tell you the rest
until you ask it of me nicely

On Noise

too much machinery silence no more
roaring loud clanking three doors down
children shrieking is it an amusement
everything is mechanized no other way
the faraway stars offended glitter silent

Underlying Aims

reading is helpful to writing if you want it
to be about something you didn't think of

underlying aims elude awareness even if
you think you know your own workings

how can I be me except you are you both
known and unknowable acknowledge that

Do Good

band practice let's get lively
forty pounds of layer pellets
isn't heavy to a strapping kid

piles like clouds bright above
dark below underwhelming me
as if I knew what was going on

what should be said says more
than what shouldn't do good
shun evil sustain your practice

Extra Time

I seem to have extra time
two hours before breakfast
a couple more late at night
sleep six a nap after lunch
never late only eyes tired
still twelve for actual day
how long can I keep it up

Regardless

back to basics four-limbed breathing planetary
Neanderthal genes modify sapient aggression
and what of all the rest we spend our time on

you are not what I imagine imagining yourself
regardless he is what he has become of himself
thanks family constant love and pass the torch

Life Goes

I'd be glad to drop dead
so don't feel bad if I do
if you can help it death
is part of how life goes
sorry to leave my loves
collections tasks undone
but I have done enough
and still will love you
who I am and ever was

Between Cities

no more eels will be found to satisfy
the poem rather pitifully dressed in
white linen never glamorous enough
did you eat them before climb a tree

this too was in Italy near Firenze I
prefer the real name no longer to be
singular or with someone on our way
between cities a few country friends

Home Comforts

to live in one place and stay there
unless they burn it down force you
out not everyone has to move ever
home comforts more vital than any

others feel different at other times
urged to go somewhere anywhere
drive view different vistas glowing
with unknown days with strangers

fear of being unprepared weak ill
I can't go on don't want to go away
loving my life limited as it now is
the time to be here as long as I can

Inside Out

picture whatever you like
according to capacity the
moment has already passed
your thoughts preoccupied

do you have it now turn it
inside out or upside down
according to configuration
or let marinate overnight

wasn't it refreshing letting
go of your preconceptions
for once is the only choice
beyond the same old thing

Being Sorry

to astound is to addict
to addict is to control
anything can be equal
stop while you still can

punch in the code and let loose
every meaning is a contribution
what is unsaid can be taken back

apologize for not feeling exactly the same
differences are the lingua franca of regret
spoken among the natives if there are any
being sorry helps some but never enough

Peaceful Avenues

whether it was well willed stills
when the wind drops teasing us
with raindrops and cats in trees

changing our way of time at last
frees feelings forgotten if unfelt
opens peaceful avenues of acts

everything gets done or not less
critical than we once imagined
works out not necessarily well

who will judge if we are gone
what matters on what basis in
what currency can sum itself up

where then is this thought going
through vagueness into crystal
this it self-knowing undeceived

Big Family

what fun hanging out with Eadie
and friends good food wine cookies
everybody loosened up and happy

over too soon we should be together
all the time like that big family sharing
another springtime of our lives

this is the small town big city way
before we all go home or up to bed
in our individual habitats of habits

What Is

allowable pleasure balances inevitable pain
letters tumble over themselves all those a's
as if saying something obvious should hurt

rise above or face it squarely let be what is
there is no alternative the old man insisted
bringing it all down to the mundane level

of course you're right I said not believing it
makes a difference who you are each of us
different and ethically obliged to express it

Cutting Back

put back the cards away the blocks
he'd rather play solitaire than see a
play play music read a book watch
a movie talk walk anything really

he'd gladly eat at the same time a
sweet or nutty snack if it weren't
Lent is hard to take seriously but
a useful moment for cutting back

surely better charge ahead while he
can embrace pleasurable sensation
be whatever shape he is not ideal
but nothing is better than what is

In the Act

hidden network of associations
exposed in the act of following
constitutes aforesaid hypogram
this is how it unravels in action

only glimpsing completely yet
too perfected not to be shallow
when time stops interrupting I
may even tell you what I mean

Nothing More

he will be found wanting
it is the human condition

everything is not enough
but there is nothing more

only infinite riches within
like the universes without

process alone is perfected
in passing as it resolves

harmony beyond cadence
emerging from the spin

Another Son

no other mother will do more
or less than what a father can
if they take turns it works out

that's the story if they are two
of either one and another son
ready to move on to heredity

if not evolution if instability
is vital to pattern formation
you can suss it out yourself

You Here

if I dreamed you were here you were
yes and no

Our Eyes

which specs show more stars
depends on the ambient light
like other perspectives plastic
no base line in an earthquake

nonetheless one blunders on
staggering gasping for breath
keeping up with the machines
looking around for inspiration

billions of them are up there
whether we look or see them
our eyes a determining factor
only for our distracted selves

Only Now

time between now and bedtime doesn't exist
it's already tomorrow on the clocks
I set seven

time doesn't exist
it is always only now
which is always already gone!

Private Thoughts

this moment dreams of a bridge
a river rushing below swimmers
accompanied by a boat running
with the fierce flowing current

the table set for dinner for two
we gather our private thoughts
sit wondering what can be said
that each night makes love new

Trollope fights daylight saving
bound to lose allows recursive
adjustment as seasons change
flowers remind us of the past

Main Aim

the practical real matters less
than the play of mind that's it
that's what all art is and does
it's apparently enough for me
ever the main aim of my days

must it be about something no
not really music is only itself
can be but that's not the point
we aesthetes see past content
imagination itself active alive

What Comes

ah Pynchon how can you keep it up
hundreds of pages to click through
filled with frantic fun can it really be
I force myself to stop reading to write

it makes less and less sense to keep on
doing what I do all these years no gain
or sense what is art why do I bother
I can't remember why I cared so much

I not only liked it I believed it mattered
more than anything reached everywhere
deep wide and surface too troubling to
be beautiful truer than the tragic reality

I like typing processing words arranging
meaning in hints hidden inside the facts
things are as they are and will not stay
but I can keeping putting out what comes

At Home

if I were he
and you were she
we would be they
tracked by us
at home
familiar house
reading aloud
and the rest
none can know

Decisions Made

sensitivity my virtue as musician
is not mindfulness or any wisdom
opens us up to love and suffering
we have to learn to live with still
I'd rather beauty save the situation

I'm not afraid or often drunk on it
rather welcome the aesthetic level
present even if neglected or worse
see interaction of ideal and actual
intention so easily lost in playback

therefore affirm my favorite habits
molded of convention reconsidered
where how I want to live who with
modeling real life's preexisting form
with a spin of self in decisions made

Being Beamed

degenerate metaprobability contends with
Bohmian trajectories voilà the black swan
Putin dematerializes before our eyes Spock
being beamed sparkles and is seen no more