Catching a Cold

I could easily fall down or apart
just catching a cold makes me feel
there's no point in doing anything
though I did bake a chocolate cake

after all I'm still all there is of me
apart from these traces of little depth
or weight marking my movements
like eddies of the transitory elements

instead I watch my step stay awake
take another dose of anti-viral hope
it's only me not catching or caught
by one who minds it infinitely more

Other Sounds

bed at twelve up at six works
as a regular protocol we each
have to find our own routine
intention adjusted to possible

other sounds at seven-thirty
break into the solitary spell
we make the bed I move on
toward blueberry pancakes

No Rush

the point of the arrow is direction
not speed always looking forward
no rush in necessarily going there

if time doesn't notice what I think
I'll think it anyway easily revised
intention fits available resources

Our Weathers

something is sure to go wrong
in the background of rightness
or maybe the other way around
our weathers ever changeable
perfect health a faded memory
the world a welter of distress
our sweet routine interrupted
though only for a fun few days
others still tolerate traveling
we stay home loving how it is

So Far

anything can happen
but it seldom does
except in a novel it
hardly matters how or
whether it be plausible

transform everything
before the story dies
idle depressed and ill
what will you have her
do having come so far

Pitch Dark

reading is not writing even if
you are thinking about what to say
likewise writing is not reading
although it may be entertaining
in its own way and seemingly can
satisy one's need for expression

this is what I'm thinking feeling
consider worthwhile writing down
my process of consciousness while
darkness slowly yields to daylight
though it's actually still pitch dark
a matter of faith that day will come

Slow Reading

do it now helps later
clarity of mind arises
naturally if you let it

piles of slow reading
supply needed input
output resolves itself

My Chairs

here I am diagonal there
square to the walls my
chairs planted and on
wheels eating the cork
floor I glued down badly
chewing up the fragile rug

peering at my screens I
piece together hours and
days between sleep and
waking mainly to eat and
write straight and read on
the angle I carefully chose

In the Mood

now is the best time so I can watch a movie later on
as I'm in the mood to keep the balance going forward

if I were directing this play I wouldn't change a thing
the actors already know their lines and where to stand

I wrote it when I was younger and better able to stay
focused and felt it was worthwhile to write it all out

now there are pancakes to be made and a therapeutic
soak before the rest of the day carries us both away

How It Was

small favors defy regret
as if previously worn or
frozen the same position
meaning something else
when you are the parent
not knowing how it was
or how to make it better

Reading Chair

New Yorkers multiply half-read books
pile up around my reading chair can't
read I have to do it and somehow stay
awake squirming wringing my hands

De Quincey Marx the Greenland ice
equally claim attention so does N+1
as Poetry laid aside mid-read repeats
everything about the New York School

I was never altogether there thinking
better lives exist what happened when
I went away meant nothing to me any
more beyond retrieving what was lost

A Wise Position

O.K. I get it what it is
is what it is and so on
full acceptance a wise
position for a person

we're all people here
depend on it cash out
prepare to spend it all
while it still has value

let's meet up in the city
where no one knows us
lunch and a movie will
make me feel all right

Note-Perfect

how fast can slow go
without stumbling on
technical limitations
forestalling fantastic
alternatives to virtue

do be both know best
how slow fast can be
and still note-perfect
with warm expression
flowing over the keys

or shall we just forget
how carefully to move
our weight and breath
and leap wildly about
to spite our best ideas

At Home

all-day errands resolve in perfect
solitaire as the evening air cools

solitude dissolves my will falls
like cards determining success

memory bids me shuffle again
lest last game haunts the deal

win or lose the game plays on
excusing its own false charm

thus the wastage is redeemed
a while whiled away at home

Before Winter

nothing further could be said
the train had already pulled out
I had lost you in the confusion
of the station were you aboard
how would we see each other
again this side of eternal rest

either way it was much better
to think of not thinking much
about what could be done for
those in need food and succor
on the way but not arriving in
time for complete assimilation

I blamed myself for everything
as if something more could be
done to improve our situation
though old we were not quite
beyond the heavy tasks that
had to be done before winter

The Story

am I here or in the story
pursued by desperadoes
hiding on a Texas hilltop
eight bullets in my gun

silence of no more wind
in the rain-charged night
the creek keeps on rising
anything might happen

taken away I still return
this the chosen actuality
I will defend to the end
of the story and my life

Energy Swirls

time for fun the wind
stirs everything up I
feel excited I can do
whatever it takes the
energy swirls around

calm in the middle of
the storm my leaking
roof happily repaired
dry in my writing den
love the wind and rain

Even Now

that was yesterday
today nearly gone
what is tomorrow

between has sleep
a world of dream
separates realities

what I remember
makes who I am
even now become

Last Words

random reading
from Teilhard to cashless Sweden
imaginary friends paying with phones
and codes

the ding of new email
here is Baby Paul in Las Vegas
looking beautiful and alert
as usual

bedtime crossword ritual
followed by oxygen on demand
maple walnut ice cream yum
last words

All Pass

too boring to write about books
though I can't stop reading them
Sachs Welch McInerney Lilla
Foer Dillard Ishiguro Mitchell
all pass through my mazy brain
happily absorbed then forgotten
it is what I do and that's enough

Dimly Warmer

half moon could be going either way
in fact it's waxing already outshining
neighborhood electric lights that never
sleep as if thieves prowl all the night

darkness defeated in our modern days
till remembered by the sleeping soul
awoken by the dream or itch to wander
rooms lit dimly warmer than the wild

Vulgar Sentiments

if I don't do it no one will
so generally I do the rain
falls regardless of virtues
expressed or acted out or
badness vulgar sentiments
all equally will be soaked
why should I let it stop me
so I don't I can change my
shoes after my task is done

Everything Else

thumbs up encourages further sentences
writing comes without effort only begin
which means stop doing anything else
which seems easy but is not always easy
the fact is one can do everything else too

Left Out

if I think of something I'll tell you
if you want to talk to me call me
everything is connected by vibes
everybody dances to the same beat

if you want to know something ask
if you know anything important tell me
everybody hears the same stories
nobody is left out of humanity's fate

Daily News

I don't want to know
every terrible thing that's going on
spare me the daily news
it's my birthday
I don't have to know
before tomorrow
if then

Work and Play

how can I work
if I can't play

hard is easy if
you do it right

life can be gay
I play at work

a wheelbarrow
gloves secateur

ripeness is now
the whole story

Falling Short

perfection is what is
behind the Bach I actually play
the possibility of accurate
repetition of the true creation
the fact of genius
beyond the reach of cunning
effort total discipline
inevitable falling short
is what makes it perfect