All Moves

year ends book of life finished
at last I am free to work or not

the farm at the end of the trail
represents another completion

love and friends surround me
longevity being its own reward

opportunity for grace abounds
all moves within staying still

You Win

once you win
no point in playing
and what instead
admire existing
do something else
call up a friend
go for a long walk
think something
make something
aim for beauty

Meaning More

letter by letter words appear
like music or a movie's notes
or shots like a painter's daubs
accumulating into something
unique made of ordinary bits

a new thing exists that didn't
just arise application needed
to keep sitting there writing
cajoling it word by word into
meaning more than it can say

No Purpose

if not now then never
later on is not at all
unheard melodies do
not count as music
unseen plays age out

posterity is hokum
probably always was
but especially today
art doesn't matter it's
money we care about

one needs an audience
otherwise no purpose
in working so hard to
be clear so someone
cares that it's sincere

My Leg

is this my leg
was it always
at that angle

Love Fumes

where I am is only here
what I brought with me
is all I have love fumes
lingering and renewed

I remember the feeling
fuel enough for a mood
independent of weather
but nothing else remains

returning find I am still
here keeping up my faith
in sensibility arising to
meet unknowable days

Flesh Pictures

you know where you are going now
and where you are coming from the
ticket has your information you can
relax enjoy the ride arrive unmussed

someone has to travel or we'll never
see each other in the flesh pictures
not the same what we like is actual
persons in regulation space and time

it doesn't matter what we do or don't
being together is enough on its own
but we like to have fun being who we
are ideas pop up and we jump aboard

Our Luck

as if there were no world
we pursue our little lives
privately absorbed in our
personal comfort details
loom as if larger matters
can honestly be ignored

maybe nothing happens
and we can go right on
which is what we want
wishing everyone had our
luck and hoping it holds
and everything works out

Think Again

now we all have phones
all tweet share photos of
each other smiling oddly
we constantly connect in
fragments of attention we
pretend are our identities
we are elsewhere as well
as here anticipating calls
and other signals we have
not forgotten to disregard
there's no relief but more
whatever you are doing
try and stop to think again

Fresh Breeze

Christmas comes twice if you want it to
days arranged in shifts accommodating
everybody's needs and desires for self-
expression mainly to love each other as
we embrace past and future possibilities

nothing is solved in the world but we can
be happy and do our best at what we do
richly rewarded by the doing and being
conscious of this precious life unfurling
like a banner snapping in a fresh breeze

What For

every day noticeably a little older
all this time as nothing compared
to the expulsion of the Jews and
various exterminations hundreds
of years ago still going on today

visibly lost agility palpably stiffer
as nothing compared to say Chuck
Close in his wheelchair still paints
my visual acuity going again what
will we think of next and what for

Fellow Feeling

cities are sinking while we
eat well talk well play share
thoughts and fellow feeling

there is too much world too
many people can't keep up
what are we going to do

Variations

take what you want
you don't have to like it all
it is there for its own sake
yours for the taking

if you want to know
anything goes right in
unguarded revelation
of a consciousness in action

it probably doesn't matter who
we are all just variations
on a single clumay theme
complex enough to satisfy

My Side

Shostakovich soundtrack to forgotten dreams
how Chekhov knows our time these Russians
not our enemy they know life deeply in a way
we'll never understand without them think of
Tolstoy Dostoevski Turgenev Pushkin Gogol
to mention a few I want always on my side

Happy Readers

happy writer writing every day
laughing aloud at what he wrote
craftily making his writing better
imagining other happy readers
who may not even be reading
and if they are not reading him

the writing is its own reward a
puzzle solved by application a
structure revealed in its unfolding
a project carried to completion a
web of meanings in readable code
a story woven of magical words

Not Reading

if I don't already know about it
maybe I don't need to random
magazine articles notwithstanding

need I feel guilty for not reading about
digital networking in Estonia or a
phenomenal hip-hop coach in Atlanta

as for adultery I don't feel I need
to have an attitude it doesn't come up
and other people's business is their own

Sweet Mourh

other elderly remember
their youthful beauty
flat belly hairless chest
soft unblemished skin
shining teeth sweet mouth
easy bending lively grace
this isn't who I really am
the real me still perfectible

Easy Life

downriver there is more development
here at the source we are blessedly alone
fortunate to have gas and electric which
make the winters survivable even pleasant
when we want something we order online
a brown truck brings it to our blue door
elsewhere vital systems are breaking down
our easy life is a product of earlier times
when sensible arrangements often prevailed

Before Winter

what I want to say is what I am thinking
although it may not apply and I may just
have started and don't know anything yet
even what I am specifically thinking about

the mind moves from one word to the next
drawing a thread of meaning from the path
a Mozart melody made of graceful phrases
strung together on the harmony of grammar

there we are a week before winter worried
about mortality the body fragile lodging for
the me that thinks and looks ahead to spring
and all the thinking we still will have to do

A Good Story

don't be surprised if I don't remember
everything happened so fast and I was
not sure who was there were you was I

it makes a good story but is it really true
or only plausible a variation that might
stand in for or improve upon the actual

the words themselves prove nothing in
context they can barely be understood
even by those who speak the language

Back Room

if asked I say yes
afterward I have
doubts do I really
want to stand up
in front of people
to read my poetry
in a clarion voice
express feelings
I may or may not
actually be having
expose limitations
ordinarily hidden
living in disguise
as myself perfected
in a bar's back room

Naturally Dark

everyone goes to bed
pretty much at the same time
many lights stay on
it isn't naturally dark
stars barely manage to shine
even at three or four
when no one wants to be up
maybe it doesn't matter
most people don't even notice
when they're asleep

Like This

am I thinking
are we talking
do you understand me
am I saying what I mean
is it always like this

did we eat
what did it taste like
was it healthy
was it responsibly grown
was it lovingly prepared

we can be frank
history is on our side
we can say anything
we are preaccepted
everything will be forgiven

Only Hunngry

whether you have thought
whether I am capable of thought
even thought it through
we try not to stake out positions
to refrain from engaging
not wanting to contend
only hungry for results
it isn't just theory it's right
if you seriously think about it

Deeper Meaning

if I wait until I know what I want to say
I will never start writing
if I avoid saying anything obvious
nothing will be left
if I dig for the deeper meaning
I will only find hints
if I try to have the last word
no one will be listening
if I think I can help by being perfectly clear
I am sadly mistaken

Keep Looking

nothing unique except the fine print
subtle markings only another lion
would recognize endow with meaning
lust for whether or not they're overlaid
with flamboyant individuality empty
of anything beyond a first impression

keep looking as if you know it's there
some secret harmonious or threadbare
suggested in a look or shadowed eye
or mindless physicality essentially time
its fleeting flow inexorable and new
in expression of possible significance

No Way

no one asks because no one knows
what is the question with the right
answer we need to hear resistance
known to be futile something more
positive creative action fraternity
proper nourishment not enough to
right the ship solid building on high
ground to save yourself what about
the situation great correction ripping
fabric worn faded original beauty
still there no way to go beyond new
paradigm ambushed by profiteers

Even Now

used to being ahead I fall
hopelessly dizzyingly behind
not just technologically also
fun with others in the world

what is to be done is what is
the question even now this
time not mine to define but
still to be fully lived in joy

Deep Water

words organize themselves into
stories and my interest slides into
deep water where sudden doubts
dissolve links into swirling inks

something I used to care about
turns out to be words for money
or a way of exercising ghosts
left over from a different world

another new thought when it's
already too hard to think what
might make a difference or just
be the right next step forward

Exactly Right

no theory but reduction
like a classic sauce dark
with concentration bites
of action warmly liquid
congeal in cold thought

the orchestra coheres in
three dimensions magic
time imagined space and
one more unnameable as
Beckett clearly described

thereby play becomes art
not knowing how it does
this transformation only
feeling what the notes say
putting them exactly right

Almost Everything

what we can still do almost
everything essence intact as
existence erodes slowly then
all of a sudden like the world

In Motion

"The meaning or absence of meaning of the words depends on the interpretations of the viewer." —Colossus of Roads

they suggest something to your mind
which may or may not pursue it which
has its own ideas I can't possibly know
my own in motion in and out of focus

a suggestion of other possibilities can't
harm the viewer who must need more
or wouldn't be here but lost in their own
geography of personal and social forces

don't fence me in the resonant meaning
rolling past a message in the landscape
community of listeners noting high low
continuous efforts to actually be there

Real and True

what I was thinking sounded right
but was wrong how was I to know
if I said what I thought I might be
mistaken even thinking I was right
how do I know what I am thinking
is really what I am thinking if I can
think I should be able to think that
what I am thinking is real and true
I might think that even if it wasn't
feeling alas is equally treacherous

Standard Parts

private exchanges might as well go public
they are all the same you say no they are
particular time and person linked and so it
seems but data doesn't lie it has a pattern
each is part of if you could only see you'd
know everything about what you are doing

then how can there be fiction its characters
unique surprising interactions erupt and you
believe them knowing someone made them
out of standard parts it might as well be an
assembly line where you aren't being paid
prefer to think your decisions are your own

Far Enough

without giving anything way
nothing moves far or fast enough

within limits we are infinite
more is in the nature of existing

with some exceptions unsaid
thoughts not less remembered

with is the necessary condition
everything else a falling away

All Day

do we do the same only better
with practice we do what we do
with great refinement better not
overdo what we do if we do it
all day together in the kitchen

Simple Needs

nothing on my list is available
another shopping fiasco hating
the furious brightness of retail
lighting meant to excite one to
buy stuff no one I know wants

well I don't really need things
anyway my cupboards are full
needs simple though nothing is
simple anymore it takes dozens
of steps just to make breakfast

Key Taps

virtual words may vanish before they are seen
like a song while driving or in the shower like
any aspect of the material world in cosmic time
like history remembered before being forgotten

letters swim in light and tiny electric currents
ticking into illusory existence key taps as thought
and feeling pressed into meaning what they are
or refer to on the higher Platonic plane you seek

on paper they seem more tangible and impressive
the book an object you can weigh and give away
sort through the content in an elevated context
shared with legendary hard-workers you revere

Too Late

attitudes are changing but are mine
probably not is what I used to think
and never managed to articulate still
true or is the situation too different
or did I misunderstand it at the time
when I might have been able to do
something real now it's really too late
not just for me but for the world I
worried about in vain when I was
young and might have known better

Bundle of Love

pingpong and lunch satisfy the balance
of play and nourishment work to follow
ties it up in a bundle of love and living

what can be said doesn't require that I
take feelings too seriously Rilke spoke
for another time friends fill in the gaps

Not Here

remembering yesterday
and the decades that led up
or narrowed down to it
anticipating breakfast a
shower and the rest of the day
my life coming into existence
in this moment in between
I am not here do not exist
sucked empty by demon time
timing the nonexistent now
gone before you heard it
telling yourself here I am

My Problem

does reading the New Yorker solve my problem
what is my problem
do I even have a problem

Better Selves

good work like sunlight under clouds
keeps promises you don't remember making

this is not the real world where desperate
people do desperate things no other way

we are mild and gentle go to therapy trying
to be good and realize our better selves

All Gap

nothing left to say
since I can't say everything
the truth is in the gaps
and it's all gap

still it's worth trying
not to disappear unsung
forgotten love lies
weeping at the tomb

unremembered thought
might as well die
before it fades
into unbroken night

I catch a word or two
in my dream net
snatch a faint idea
from the stormy flux

and here I am again
defined in time
resisting fatal entropy
with every bone

Artistic Form

the form of the form asserts where we meet
who you are whether you are there one verb
continuing through disparate harmonies and
rhythmic motions applied widely and wisely
keeping its integrity hidden from predatory
know-it-alls lurking in messages received

starting from zero the blood remembers to
circulate until it doesn't recognize Boolean
probabilities and reverts leaving you dead
meanwhile you read and think or write in
mirror fragments semi-cleverly arranged to
replicate imagined elements of artistic form

These Ears

I remember how the line goes
not what it says what it knows
goes no farther than these ears
hearing what the wise can say
clearly asked more than before
and still not even keeping even

rain moves over the land and I
just happen to be under it not
get wet because I'm inside try
to remember think I'm awake
dealing with what comes up as
sun breaks through I am happy

Old Ideas

everybody needs a place to live
so buildings cover the land and
the city rapidly eats the country

once the building is there it is
difficult to remove impossible
to recover what was there before

towns grow or die remains of
old ideas clutter the landscape
what are we going to do now

New Eyes

getting to D takes every other note
along the rhythmic way all harmony
become surprise it comes out right

on a clear day you see more farther
as if new eyes regret their rapture
bringing legal news of another city

country people don't understand the
difference but know more husbandry
and when to plant the first tomatoes

Still Nothing

a pause I am refreshed
fresh air sweetly chill
still nothing happens
and won't now the day
ended early by night

It's Raining

"Most people, most of the time, mess up." —Richard Brody

then I won't go if I don't have to
and I don't no one cares and it's
raining not that that matters much

I could sit in my chair all day long
flipping through magazines without
actually reading anything in them

but I won't I'll do something anything
will do I have my routines they have
space in them for natural variation

A Whisper

art work lives beyond time
though all time is imagined
except mortality a fugitive
whisper in the cosmic wind

Into It

promise yourself you will not expect
more of the same inflated standards
as if you were someone else entirely

get up an hour earlier and still be late
after yoga meditation breakfast shower
what with chickens and studio chores

don't be surprised time passes quickly
when you're working well and into it
remind yourself it won't go on forever

Many Books

a word is a key
and the door it opens
and what you find inside

words are a sentence
many sentences a book
many books a civilization

Sentence Form

email artifacts clog my inbox
this is the way we speak now
when anything goes in movie
form in life conventions still
rule the choices rarely our own

deal with it you must you have
no alternative something must
be said before forgetting takes
it all away sowing confusion in
sentence form seemingly clear

Even Water

no judgment but I want to be moral
which would probably mean giving up
everything I like about my life freedom
to jump in the car and go somewhere
big house gas heat electricity privacy
meat consumer options even water use
dubious even here the water table dropping
I like my comforts luxuries and life as is
so instead I muddle along doing little harm
taking good care and hoping for the best

Time to Heal

massage consolidates the gains
from chiropractic acupuncture
passage of time to heal better
than before still normally stiff

I only complain privately and
here it could be worse I could
be dead or miserably suffering
I'm still alive and feeling fine

Inspired

Chinese poetry
Facebook flotsam
heartfelt entertainment
post-irony sincerity
internet pornography
Prokofiev inspired
somatic resonance
overstretched compassion
cosmic geometry
natural seasons

Die Cast

being is what you are wearing
what you are doing knowing better
who told you to act this way
when was the die cast by whom
and on what ineluctable authority
why is it impossible to escape
you don't want to you are happy
you don't want to do anything else
these are the clothes you have

Nothing Else

how deep in the bed are dreams
found out by the questing body

glimpses only exist sufficiently
to inform inevitable adaptation

separate thoughts flash crossing
tables of play and necessary food

what meant heard in translation
serves when there's nothing else

Long Lost

looking for the normal that this
is how it is supposed to be it is
reality not some perversion of it

this animal can adapt to clothes
and clocks anything really what
essence remains intact inside it

we are trying to make life good
being sincere and honest loving
each other and our fellow humans

while all this is accidental an odd
accretion of historical errors and
disasters dressed in natural fibers

within we have the usual somatic
fate predating machinery that has
to wear out and be thrown away

or remain and clutter up the land
signifying efforts to bring order
where natural order is long lost

Aging Out

creative flash jumps out of the chair
like the cat playing hide and seek in
trees aging out dying or flourishing
in the face of drought and cold nights

this is natural he thinks staggering
boldly into the center of the room I
will not get over being old but still
have the sense to move when I can

A Tease

we are still not looking at the sun
glad when it warms us once more

the warmth of the pilot light is too
much I must throw off the covers

I feel I am getting warm but it's
just a tease I am actually losing

Right Way

not a good idea to act on thought
common sense may kick in later
you think I should have known I
should have thought before acting
but thought may be the problem
feelings are more likely the right
way to go Robin Crusoe realizes

Here I Am

is this the same me sitting
on my cushion as on the
balcony at the Zen Center
only older though no time
passes as I count breaths
or merely sit and breathe
thinking here I am then
letting the thought fly away

Good Intentions

I always think something
will come to me and it
usually does in time for
midnight bedtime tired
and ready to go to sleep

time is as bad as gravity
pulling on memory and
good intentions tied to
earth seasons the body
realizing its continuity

Four Nights

I thought I could be anywhere
it could be anytime then it was
time to pack and drive fly drive
to be back where I started from
as if those three days elsewhere
might not have really happened
though perfectly real at the time
a birthday a staged engagement
all romantically coupled though
three women actually elsewhere
four nights gone entirely enough

After Croquet

yellow-bellied magpies alert birders
in oaks of Neverland where Russian
fans mourn the doubly dead security
still on salary despite the closed road

that was after croquet and a picnic
before stupendous revolving dinner
round a perfect family weekend to
celebrate life dog child a marriage

The Whole Story

if I could sit still
I would lie closer to the window
where your breath
fogs my glasses and the words come
easily when I call
all possible answers retreat in doubt
choosing partners
before the rotating beacon returns
rolling in the dust
as if movement were the whole story

Deep Thinking

out of context nothing
fits my size changing
with the weather deep
thinking is impossible

I go on anyway trying
to live alone one night
used up easily another
recovery close behind

Going Away

looking forward to getting back
the new paradigm of going away
not that I don't want to go indeed
I will be glad to be there with my
precious family enlarged by Bill
intend to have a wonderful time

Anxiety

if I don't know where I am
or where you are and don't
have a smart phone what
can I possibly tell Uber

Higher Thoughts

I wish I was smarter
and could understand
what's really going on
appreciate sincerity be
ready for what happens
more honest with myself

I wish I felt better could
get up off the floor roll
over in bed swim a few
laps and embrace easily
freely expressing my
deeper higher thoughts

Before Knowing

within reality is the dream
behind understanding the sum
of art before knowing emotion

meaning emerges on its own
strength is continuing to act
beauty is sensing it is there

whether or not you can see
well enough to read or drive
you still can go on looking

Case Closed

what you say
becomes what was
the case closed
when you write it out

that was a time
of what you would
told again tarnished
by the hopeful air

desirous still
to know the real
impels revision
as fantasy gels

never again to be
paid in cocaine
awake all night
burnishing revelation

now rest beckons
past times past
beyond recovery
enshrined in word

My Story

pages pile up
as if that means something
I have to do it
even if hardly anyone cares
it's my story
I insist on telling it

Up to You

if you remember better times
you are deluded 'twas always
thus and up to you to see the
beauty and realize the good
unless something bad happens
and all is lost or loved ones
hurt or dead or sick yourself
then it's not your fault and
altogether necessary to be sad

Above All

feeling better comes from doing
merely being not quite enough
you need exercise and to move
in space talk with other people
then you have a chance to rise
above all terribleness and loss

Roll Over

nothing matters if you're not alive
what if you're not feeling entirely
well what then what is to be done

and if you wake up weird and can't
roll over can't get up off the floor
who are you now what is to be done

all that matters is what's happening
right here and now you know how
you manage and what is to be done

Always Shining

"I have come to believe that you can escape your demons and still tap the well." (David Byrne)

you may not like it but
the rain refills the well

burning something will
keep you warm in winter

gas is cleaner than wood
or coal and still abundant

the sun is always shining
even when you can't see it

some will freeze or starve
as others bask and thrive

exercising their ingenuity
even the poor can survive

until they become too many
everyone suffers and dies

An Artifact

each intimate observation entails separate
verbalization to become conscious itself
an artifact of conditioning preconception
disguised as spontaneity fooling yourself
first intentions galvanized attention awake
thinking this is groovy without questioning
whose idea it was and where it's taking you

Still Joy

better maybe is enough to go on
knowing the destination isn't easy
or the path smooth and reliable
still joy arises from hope's ruins
again the pendulum never again

The True

later I will tell you about today
when nothing else is happening
unless something else comes up

the past keeps on receding faster
so the present can never catch up
as if something new might arise

I am not as clever as I once was
but what remains will have to do
the true still revealing its shades

Cats' Lives

cats like people
are part of your life
then not
not because you leave
or they leave
like people
who may also die
or fade away
cats' lives
are naturally shorter

82

still happy

Once Young

nights chillier daybreak later seasons
change and then change back unlike
life remorselessly advancing never
to be the same as we remember once
young not to know that spring again
we count on children for our rebirth
not young themselves so it goes on

One Enough

counting on you still being here
as if the world is solid everything
changes with or without music

only I am always here even when
I'd like a break the you is singular
one enough to authenticate a life

Good Food

getting to midnight
takes as long as it does
one snack follows another
reading punctuated by cards

it's a little dance I do at night
good food quality writing
if I go to bed any earlier
I wake up at 3 a.m.

Talking to Myself

how can I be kind if I don't see anyone all day
chatting with my chicken doesn't really count
I appreciate her helping me with the weeding
and she's a good listener until she walks away
then I realize I'm essentially talking to myself
as in this poem which doesn't require a reader
although I intend it to be helpful and generous

Here Together

dress the armature in porous fabric
let the boundary be soft it is diffuse
the body is not more than the soul
but how else can we live than here
together while we still can breathe

Short Pants

he long story hides in short pants
inevitable outcomes disguised by
details in phrases masquerading as
sentences swagged across time you
are too young to understand except
you do and never will forget what
you learn not looking or knowing
how much chance predicts your life

Nothing Happens

on a day like this nothing
happens I am too busy to
do anything but think and
write apart from regular
obligations I have to eat
then suddenly it's all over
a little progress is enough

No Future

as if what they do is real
what we do not really
and maybe they are right
I mean what is at stake
we're old so nothing is
no future to be decided
our questions answered
yet we are still alive and
deserve to be noticed if
only for the sake of now

Other Ideas

before you go is there anything else
you need to tell me or be told about
we mentioned every possibility of
improvement and why we doubt it
someone else will have other ideas
if they dare to reveal their thinking
I won't argue but add a sharper angle
similarly arbitrary and ill-informed
best to make a joke of it and keep on
doing the most the situation allows

Many Places

where are we now not South Carolina
with the snakes and smiles or anywhere
we lived before we knew much music

so many places on the map and people
making the best of desperate situations
enjoying the fruit falling off the trees

I don't begin to grasp all the variation
only go along and marvel that it works
at all and anything keeps getting done

True Story

a dream is not a poem
unless it is a ridiculous
disparity of ages a dirty
toilet a crisis at the paper
and nowhere to park my
motorcycle while I am
thinking how to tell a
different true story eyes
blurring from the screen

Always Cold

all that words can do
leaps to life at a touch
we are in Portugal it is
winter I am always cold
wars occur by accident
the universe is tired of living
words take it apart and fix it

Still Friends

did I say what I meant
too little or too much
or what I thought I could get away with
and still be friends
not stir up old rivalry and animosities we
want to let lie
a little vodka a nasty cold
releases me from narrow habits
and I speak my mind

Lost Poem

I keep trying to remember the lines
I composed while I was meditating
trying not to think in words I forgot
on purpose then regret the lost poem

Better Now

did I ever know
what was going on
not really didn't I
often miss the point

am I better now with
all this experience
and less distraction
probably not but I try

Just Life

do I feel this way because I am old
or because I am me
or because something bad happened
or not even something bad
just life as it is
an exhausting houseguest
days of no work
a mistake with the chickens
a sore shoulder
smoky air
and what am I to think
knowing time is running out
still figuring

Golden Dust

driven to document
self-improvement
self-branding
surveillance
showing off
desired reflection
cult of . . .
productive pleasure
taking time off
productive leisure
happiness's uses
self-confirmation
golden dust

Seven Hens

my seven hens came running
as they saw me coming with
treats Lady White the eldest
three each red and silver lace
now they have gone to join a
larger flock and I regret them
goodbye funny chicken friends

Natural Disasters

I barely dare to look at the news
something might have happened I
mean apart from natural disasters
poverty hunger continuing wars
and the collapse of civilization
I really don't care about New York
restaurants real estate celebrities
the arts as entertainment loved by
millions relentlessly manipulated
going along with whatever it is

Not Here

grape juice fills the closet shelf
red and pale green lunch all year
apples ripe on the tree for sauce
tomatoes blanched and frozen

nights are cooler air clearing up
despite fields and forest burning
hurricanes flooding other griefs
not here but here in our hearts

Not There

quickly now yes no I didn't say anything
about it no yes I know I kept my promise
you were not there I forgot what I thought
I meant to say something specific but what

you do what you have to do having decided
long ago everything fits together to be what
it is whether it is what you wanted depends
on how well it worked out if you are honest

you can take credit for what you make does
service count only if someone is producing
something useful diverting unique explicit
description of what might be unmentioned

Tummy Ache

how you feel is all there is
to go on or not accordingly
your tummy ache may be
nothing or a sign of worse
to come dessert a mistake

how you are likely to feel
at a certain time tomorrow
determines what you think
will probably happen if you
pull yourself together and go

The Usual

a few large animal heads make an impression
however sincere their provenance as if frozen
in life eyes glittering thinking about eating in

turn away or you will see what you'd rather not
not likely benefit from distressing emotions or
fill in the resultant void with seasonal bouquets

I would clarify if I could and retain penetration
fully expecting to be misquoted or seen through
I avoid commitment to the usual magic rituals

which isn't enough to explain what I really mean
to translate chance revelations into some familiar
land forms childhood memories or tacky symbols

With Care

not knowing anyone
I am invisible
like a pet
or a wild animal
seen only from outside

not a dream this
common experience
this natural condition
can be managed
with care

Blown Away

for Diane Fisher

I kissed you and was blown away
by the softness of your lips and soul revealed
womanly traits I didn't know what to do with
thinking I was gay

What You Know

the future is now as much as the past
the present a random transitional node
as we just happen to be where we are

so don't let memory claim it counts
more than what you know is to come
discounting the probability of surprise

feelings come and you have to go on
thinking the story must have a direction
when it actually is one whole thing

Still Breathing

we shared an oh dear but the air
didn't clear the sun rose red again
the blue overhead vaguely white

painful dream but the day arises
I rise itching but still breathing
knowing it still what I expected

Whole Minutes

tingling itching aching
doesn't do it justice
then something distracts me
and I forget about it
whole minutes at a time
John Ashbery dying
reminds me to read him
and the browser balks
the Times staggers on
and then I remember

Nothing Normal

smoky moon says something bad is going on
fires floods nuclear tests pleasant as it is here
though hotter than it should be nothing normal
I breathe it all in send out love peace justice joy

Also New

keep it moving
and it comes around again
everything the same
also new this time
we are together acknowledge
the other existing
making our lives matter

Love Letters

nothing hanging over me
except our own mortality
bodies gradually beyond repair
collapse of empire chaos pain
degradation of culture planet
and further writing to be done
books love letters this poem

Even Bach

depending on the hour even Bach
can stupefy in an entertaining way
leaving me dazed a singing night
waiting for the obligatory words

I no longer worry about thinking
of something to say I always can
and do if not in the early morning
then now before I put myself to bed

Spaced Apart

not alone but spaced apart
each contending with what
cannot be communicated

and even if it were nothing
could be done to spare us
mortal suffering solitude

inner being our only hope
shared in loving tenderness
exchanged across the abyss

Thought Form

years of love and creativity go on
pausing hesitant but not stopping
no general arc of brilliance and
decline applies no empty decades
wondering what to do next as if
everything had already happened
or wasn't going to wrong thought
form works keep arising anyway

Careful Breathing

amid further smoke the swim
is spared the lasered shoulder
is not strained nor fails in use
instead we stay inside careful
breathing shallow in the shade
grateful not to live in Houston
counting on a clearing breeze

Just This

s my mind mine
or just a typical manifestation

the little dog has personhood
but I am just this

Letters

too hot to think or write letters
but I love to hear from people
and sooner or later write back

am I really still who I am if
so what can I do about it now
before it's too late to enjoy it

Line-Dance

language erases the user
as words are everyone's
they may mean anything
you imagine or nothing

referencing Barthes does
little to elucidate what
they whisper privately
offering ecstasy unseen

translation their essence
their line-dance recalls
a music not yet heard
an intimation of oneself

Digging In

no gym too tired after pulling
grass digging stubborn weeds
after unexpectedly digging in
old writing needing finishing
in order to go on to what new
arises in beautiful open space
instead I have made granola

Larger Story

history rules and you don't know it
at the time you think you are making it up
if you only examined the circumstances
you would see but you don't want to know
you want to take a chance as if starting new
as if your choices determine what happens
meanwhile the larger story is emerging
and you have played your little part

Willing Ears

if music could do what it promises
even when it does it too soon ends

delight in shape and pattern in time
kinetic pleasure of sustaining sync

emotion without confusing reality
people complicating circumstance

demonstrating superhuman skills
in the service of divine inspiration

formations in mind's luminous air
sustain an alternative way to be

elevated open to all willing ears
and then it passes leaving no mark

More Trouble

how come I know better than the President
that stirring up more trouble between India
and Pakistan isn't going to help them or us

Too Hard

who will know the meaning to me
connections too hard to explain and
no one would care the way I care
even if I spelled it out in full detail

anyway you wouldn't want to know
you have your own invisible web
requiring continuous close attention
so the meaning is fresh and strong

we can't express our actual selves
only show a mutual understanding
imagine stories that constitute an
artful alternate image to ring true

All Ready

cosmic coincidence coming
as orbs hot and cold whirl
around their orbits toward a
highly improbable recurrent
rendezvous with us tiny lucky
humans all ready for totality

No Demand

this is not work but play
so I can do it even if I am
not working for a change

plenty of time my motto
knowing it will suddenly
end no demand for haste

I could have done more
if I had tried harder but
did what I wanted to do

it's enough if I say it is
anything more is extra
I do it because I like to

After Exercise

itching knees and elbows after exercise
accompany a stillness that feels unique

singing crickets man voices on the radio
hold me suspended in the car I open the

window enter air time stops or doesn't
matter anymore whether I go in or not

don't scratch doesn't matter either I do
or another day comes as soon as it can

The Fly

the fly follows me drawn
to my reading light and
won't sit down so I can
kill it for being annoying

its buzz is not deliberate
nor its distracting pattern
intruding in my thoughts
I stand helplessly armed

Still Hungry

the body has the last word
beyond what words can do
the mind must make peace
pictures memory in stories
trumped by the feeling gut
grasping for sweet release

whether everything is told
withheld distorted warped
doesn't matter to the belly
still hungry after the feast
grumbling for more words
to eat and never satisfied

Two Books

I finished two books in a year
both short but long enough
should be satisfied instead
I have the postpartum blues
distract myself with reading
practicing the piano gardening
won't feel quite right until I
start writing something else

Feeling Strange

suddenly told I'm old
I hesitate to disagree
no one knows better
I am feeling strange
nothing can be done
this what's going on

Still Me

I thought it was tomorrow
if today it will be hotter still
we get up and immediately
set about being ourselves
doing what we normally do
thinking and speaking aloud
about our usual preoccupations
I thought I was someone else
not yet fully formed still free
still dreaming I find myself
at the beginning of a race
everything depends on a tire
touchingly thin and smooth
and a rim and delicate spokes
off you go and I am still here
wondering which day it is
and whether I am still me

Another Hand

solitaire cleanses the brain
nothing exists except the fall
of the cards another hand
waiting for the laying out
another play of probability
nothing at stake win or lose

Smoke

smoke unblues the sky
causes Carol to cough
but doesn't cool the sun
saps the earth of water
gladioli break and wilt
chickens colonize shade
cats don't seem to mind
people long for a breeze
to clear the smoke away
and renew the weary air

Being Me

not as curious or adoring
I'm stuck with being me
the way I ordinarily am
which is not at all bad
not famous and rich but
that doesn't work anyway
being happy and stuff
I want but don't really

More Heat

early water anticipates more heat
farm welcomes afternoon poetry
further breakfast follows formal
pause fresh melting comes clean

then you notice the classic pattern
depending on type sprinklers rotate
or oscillate imaginary rainbows
flowing from the permanent laws

smoke dissipates blown elsewhere
constituent particles disassociated
like friends like pins on a map of
everything that ever was or will be

The Future

"I don't feel I'm getting older, I feel I'm getting closer." —Rachel Cusk

the future let me speak for it now
it is real even if it never happens
what is to be or you want to be
causes you to do what you do
more than what already happened
where you came from who you are
defines the role not causing action
which needs the future to impel it
the future is what matters most

So Much

for Jean-Claude van Itallie

consider the gulf between the
Kansas City Country Club
and fleeing the Nazis
albeit in charming company

and yet we are friends and
fellows in the Sangha and
the forest become a park
populated with Chinese saints

and too we are equal citizens
writhing under crazy leaders
democracy a mockery power
threatening human survival

so much for manners and art
trivialized by sheer vulgarity
confident of its fake identity
molded to sell and sold

Write Soon

is this reading or writing if I read
what I have already written and
change it reading it to myself again

or send it to someone by email
promising to actually write soon
or then sit myself down and do it

is it me writing it or does it just
arise like everything else in life
whether or not it's written down

The Same

for Sam Shepard

what I liked is remembered
55 years later we are still
imagining ourselves the same
young creatives hoping for eyes
and ears to recognize respond
to whatever we managed to do
then and in intervening decades
not just the momentary fame

Another Question

am I speaking for myself
or some idea of what is
necessary or appropriate
which it is much matters
whether profound or trivial

am I me or is this a pose
might be another question
if I were Keats and falling
in love the other misbehaves
and all is lost and over

or merely a verbal construct
insinuating into the glass
fashion showing feathers
no poet should disdain
remain himself and true

Certain Talents

who would you tell
if you told anyone
your precious secret
if they care enough
they already know
why keep it a secret
when truth will out
aren't we all the same
apart from culture
and certain talents
genius is unlikely
to be seen again

Just Us

no one is here
it's just us now
and the animals
"self-directed"
is that worse or
less than human
I don't think so

Bright Sky

oh summer evening here north
deliciously long not a cloud in
the sky sun down the pure even
light makes everything its exact
colors suddenly the moon appears
not new but still slender shining
in the still bright sky the sound of
children playing up and down the
street the dishes washed suddenly
it's nearly dark stars are revealed

Carrying On

some days everything goes right
gym routine easy with podcasts
music great even if I can't play it
friends warm book getting good
family delightful dinners superb
shared with cats horses birds
carrying on as evening falls

Nothing Bad

I lay out the cards
then win or lose it's
a few minutes later
and nothing bad has
happened to me or
anyone I know and
love so I play again

Original Me

now takes care of itself
the result of everything that came before
filtered by present strength and will

for now I am glad to carry on
balancing measured pleasure with desire
more memory than drive

decisions taken long ago
fructify as manifestations of what I want
ever more expressing an original me

Cloudy Tears

cloudy tears compromise the words
I was getting used to seeing clearly
further intervention will help more
reading and writing is what I do
and seeing color my great delight

Close Attention

no sleight-of-hand for me
my hands are clumsy now
blunder at the oddest tasks
unbuttoning a wallet pocket
what once was easy is hard
the hard still hard but I can
get better if I practice paying
close attention to every note

Still Free

adequate is not enough
this is my only life more
and better than I deserve
I should enjoy my luck

and do already remember
love and precious lessons
learned from countless
generous creative spirits

let's rejoice while we can
love energy flowing though
we can hardly move the
mind still free to change

A Question

writing about nothing
how can I be good

Still Here

things happen
nothing is said
people come
and go away
other people
take their place
I am still here

Big Ones

squirming mentally physically restored
to my sharp-eyed self at a teenage lake
going to bed hungry for breakfast and
another day of summer fun and action

myself in the world alive with frogs
wind cousins mother fishing for bass
the big ones hiding in the deep water
gasoline cold lemonade this afternoon

Hiding Out

not by choice but circumstance
that is the presence of others
I hide out in my studio reading
a novel about a reality I used to
brush up against in the course
of other circumstances people
I was then relating to because of
work need desire ambition taste
this is why anything happens

My Clutter

I will not remember later
unless I remember now

what is not remembered
is a hidden life going on

but inaccessible doing its
worst in a nameless room

like Congress exchanging
dubious favors not to be

reasoned with or used for
my own sweet edification

it's here somewhere I think
rummaging in my clutter

to no avail no photograph
to quantify its odd effect

is ever likely to emerge
I am poorer and no wiser

but it doesn't matter to
me not particles but flow

New Freedom

new colors burn new freedom
were they there all the time
I don't even have to work
poems come from the light

How to See

vision is seeing something
that was already there with
or without your observing

vision is how to normally
engage the world see and
note read and write about

vision lost you could cope
grateful not to have to you
embrace what reappears

vision is amazing see badly
one-eyed life still answers
with intelligible language

Fair Enough

I give myself one card
and the hand plays out
fair enough for human

what else did I learn
being a four-year-old
is funner than trouble

still awake at eleven
burning with hot fire
inventing how to live

Still Asleep

life's own momentum kicks in
it hardly matters what I think
the day is still sunny and warm
the windows still need washing
everyone is still asleep in spite
of chickens and other birdsong
Alfred will arrive and we will
rise to what the moment offers
these family days are precious
regular routine a mere illusion
ready to collapse any moment
never to be entirely recovered

Joy Present

as if I was still the same I don't
imagine becoming anymore joy
present but not possible to enjoy
the old forget-your-troubles way
glad to see others happy though
play the part nicely as I still can
a general impression of myself

Too Serious

f something does occur to me
will I have the energy to do it

expansion yields to shrinkage
every dimension except girth

Roger looks young Andy old
the game become too serious

Ludwig raised the stakes for
music even he couldn't hear

we understand how to go on
too late to do us much good

Beer Bottles

tame and timid hoping
not too much happens

we celebrate stability
in a changing village

beer bottles appear in
woods and hay barn

I lock my studio doors
listening to fireworks

Black Mass

writing it down another
artifact not a solution to
gravity black mass emerging
not to be fed attention not
to be swallowed but shit out
much later in the day when
it really didn't matter anymore

In Pieces

unmitigated fun tending scary
everything mitigated now if
not I'd go flying off in pieces

let myself go isn't fatal I can
still come back to my normal
self realize fear finally loses

Out Walking

I keep trying to say
what isn't understood
the same language but
different thought forms
each wants the other
to see it the same way

there goes the street
out walking and talking
on the phone as if dogs
knew English better
and had more to say
than anyone we know

Right Time

no right time don't wait just do it now
applies in many but not all situations
some stuff wants its own sweet time
and trying to speed it up doesn't work
imagining time is on your side better
than pushing grousing and impatient
so go ahead and do it while you can

Local Conditions

what you have is what you always had
and have to deal with a thousand little
objects ways of doing things you can't
imagine different your body's peculiar
karma dependent on changed weather

larger cycles continue as they always
must local conditions less predictable
the relevant stability illusory now that
you know better what would you have
done in preparation for the final scene

What I Did

the empty day so full I can't remember
what I did this morning or my dreams
forgetting doesn't make them go away
and I could already have written this

One Life

how can you judge
this is your one life
nothing to compare

their taste for black
currants during war
saved many children

books will be thrown
away their time over
never to be perused

but on screens we
learn to use or die
knowing nothing

Long Enough

nothing is anything like what
it used to be possible to think
it might go on pretending to be
fooling everyone no one fool
knew enough to stop the film
long enough to straighten out
the plot no one remembered anyway
I never cared how the story ended
the writer decides not the characters

More Serious

one perfect anything
you should be satisfied
forever never have to
do anything boring again

are you a victim then
of human nature acting
against yourself because
it's just the way you are

why even bother trying
if nothing is good enough
let someone more serious
carry away the prize

In the Middle

what would I be thinking about
if I were not listening to NPR
literally programmed by smart
people considering what people
like me but younger need to hear

what else would I be doing
if I were not driving into Portland
for a small medical matter and
lunch with Alfred and Shiva pay
attention keep an eye on other cars

what would I be feeling if you
were not here in the middle of
everything I have made of myself
accumulating experience together
as we navigate our separate lives

Little Lives

time enough for everything under heaven
the larger context waiting patiently while
little lives run their complicated course as
simple as that complete wisdom is obvious
refolded like a well-used map of experience

What to Think

how to handle
what you never expected to be like this
what to think about the changing situation

Not There

act without explaining even to yourself
no rational explanation will be required
what can he have been thinking will be
the question on everyone's mind if you
are careful and certain of being noticed
the act will speak for itself but no one
will be listening and you are not there

Doing It

plans do not usually fall through
so be careful what you say you'll do
you will probably soon be doing it
and glad you made the plans now

now you are at home and it's enough
you don't have to go anywhere or
do anything you don't want to do
this really is an ideal situation

Your Numbers

long days belong to no season
ways of looking promise fun
first you have to give away
your numbers wondering who
will call while you are napping

warm compresses will relieve
some pains and most confusion
if you know better just say so
I will meet you in Rome or
come to your villa tomorrow

Nothing More

pay no attention to the camera
live-streaming us on the web
nothing is private anymore but
no one cares what we are doing
to manage the long summer days
now that we have all we need
nothing more is left to want
except infinite continuation

The Usual

will we ever know
what really happened
how we felt at the time
can we trust our own
theory or is it the usual
rationalization excuses
as if the reason why
contrived and dubious
made all the difference
relieved and happy
I don't have to go back

After All

after all
something else

Further Change

silently waiting in the silent room
where almost nothing ever happens

what could the action be without
other persons to complicate things

each person more rigidly themself
prevents invigorating developments

the moment passes without regret
further change will not be resisted

Anything Else?

is there anything you want from Starbucks
which was selling cannabis in my dream or
anything else I can do for you that will help
smooth your recovery and give me a reason
not to face the usual void between routine
self-bettering distractions and nagging chores
everything keeps growing more than I'd like
weeds and dust endlessly wanting attention
I'd rather write whether or not I will be read

Squeezes

are you there
in the bed
I reach back
squeezes yes
I get up

Surprisingly Cool

like a rocket that doesn't rise too high
then falls or a fountain jetting before
the palace blown into spray the initial
rush of love spreading like butter onto
the toast of time good with marmalade
rain drops cohering into vegetables or
floods ideas needing to be written out
music decaying as it flowers in place
light fading as the earth turns away to
hover silently as if in sleep returning
never exactly the same familiar faces
older than yesterday or gone forever
dissolved into ordinary daily writing
defines a surprisingly cool trajectory

My Face

where should I stand
is my face on straight
is my weight evenly distributed
shall I put on my glasses
will I be recognized in restaurants

Naked Bodies

deliberately accidental images intrude on thought
feeling doesn't show in the face and eyes unless
you're acting naked bodies show their age badly

small women take up just as much space when
you want me I'll be here waiting to be asked if
I'm hungry I eat more than is strictly required

What We Need

easy to say it is difficult
to recognize as being or
having been real we can
only recognize what we
knew before never fully
realize even what exists

even our selves escape
cognition after decades
of search and redefined
memory the documents
unstable remnants only
hinting at what we need

Here We Are

am I strange or merely distracted
my condition by no means unusual
now that the old ways are forgotten
as if they never existed tried and true

not that everything was ever normal
everyone sure they were doing right
few strange and seriously distracted
terrible mistakes always being made

but they knew how to do useful stuff
with tools they could fix themselves
well let's not idealize about the past
it was often worse and here we are

Just Thinking

having absorbed Beckett
one still wants to speak
even knowing how much
all this self-expression
makes me sick I can't
just sit here after all I
think and mostly having
no one to talk to must
write it down if I can
or else act in the world
just thinking not enough

In the Lobby

nothing to prove by catching another
dream or disease or flight into Italian
opera first act missed we mill around
in the lobby harping on what we lost
in elegance at what irretrievable cost

another book play weeding move to
Sweden or a hidden corner of Japan
leaves another lasting shadow where
you one time acted in bright sunlight
remembering a model that never was

More Words

(for Teju Cole)

nothing ends if
there are more
words time
continues

the words
never end

No Alternative

no bones broken but a definite
glitch something is bound to happen
and when it does you deal with it
embrace mortality there is no alternative

Each Exceptional

hundreds of pianists dozens I know
have heard or heard and seen have
ideas about what they are good at a
musical horde we recognize exists
each exceptional in their own way

Too Late

although I do not suffer
I see suffering in others
without clearly knowing
what it is to really suffer

how could I suffer when
my life has been so lucky
no wars here no abusive
parents poverty or illness

I worry about the world
and surely will suffer too
before I'm finally over it
but too late to matter now

Her Baggage

I try to be interested in Diana Trilling and
her fierce intelligence but I never cared
about her opinions and tended to despise her
for giving in to Lionel's great mind act his
repellent condescension part of her baggage
I never understood how they got away with it
the whole lot of them left me cold and still do

Proper Taste

threats disguised as flowers fool
my most refined defenses let me
serve as their ambassador to the
human round of rooms and meals
welcome admire and water their
laughing faces sneeze with delight
at their exuberant indifference to
anything I struggle to understand
purposes persisting regardless of
good intentions and proper taste
in colots forms and dying petals

Making Choices

what kinds of people there are
don't know and don't approve
as if that were anywhere near
the point being my narrowed
vision molded by experience

are we making choices or just
playing out the paradigm we
grew up viewing as the world
whispering privately not even
imagining we have much to say

Pause

this moment between Beethoven and
crossword offers an opening I seize
adeptly dash off the occasional lyric

four movements beautiful in stormy
lulls exquisitely fitted to the purpose
buoy me across an after-dinner pause

"Idiocracy" to follow if appetite lasts
beyond the kiss and cuddle into night
cooling timbers punctuate with creaks

Personal Experience

time/space is wobbling
William says as the
gravitational waves
keep rolling through

I wonder if I can
feel it interested more
in the gravity I'm doomed
to deal with every day

it's a matter of scale
he likes cosmic principles
and the infinitely small
I the personal experience

Aleppo

it might be real
what happened
ah what a relief
it is just a story
this newspaper
a form of fiction
alas not so there
is no good news

Soft Air

notice the balance of warm and cool
sun and shade the beautiful dissolving
clouds the scent of flowers in soft air

short of moving away what can I do
not mow or pull up grass that way lies
ruin of my hands and peace of mind

Tiny Bites

it's not that I can't think
or think of anything I can
it's just the way the days
go on eating time in tiny
bites and random feasts
regular as sunrise weather
fooling with our thoughts
projects calling attention
to whether they get done

In Pain

is that you depressed
and/or in pain forget
what I said before it
went down this way

now is the possible
normal day you like
to remember how it
felt to be yourself

when you are better
you know what to say
as if goodness had
the upper hand again

Back to You

conversation may be arbitrarily interrupted
at any time unless you park yourself in one
of the Adirondack chairs around the fire pit
with your own supply of cannabis which you
generously share the pipe keeps coming back
to you though the people in adjacent chairs
keep changing places everybody pursuing
an individual trajectory determined by sign
and type freely helping to make the party go

New to You

change bullets to ballet
wrong to wring shove to
love change now to how
new to you the Times to
rhymes change bug to hug
pounce to flounce flop to
swap snob to mob or lob
or job change whether to
weather fuck and suck to
luck and pluck language
changes everything to its
brother by another mother
its meanings ever at odds

Someone Cares

forgiven for forgetting
as if someone
cares whether you
remember at all

In the Shade

do I have to tell everybody everything
what I think how I feel about my day
is more significant than anything else

I mean what else matters really do you
know the answer will you reveal it now
or hold out for permission from above

what is above consideration never says
what might be more germane moreover
reception is unreliable here in the shade

Pleasing Life

what is pleasing and even more pleasing in dreams
whether you are really there and remember or not
is part of a pleasing life you are attempting to live

nothing else matters if you are dead it's too late so
now is the only time to please yourself and others
you love and want to make happy when you can

art is pleasing to make you want something to do
and put everything into it but letting it ruin lives
yours and others is completely missing the point

Regular Day

too late to eat anything else
or start or finish something
lost in the rush of nothing in
particular just a regular day

Knee Deep

nothing inheres but what you remember
from previous expeditions to the forest
knee deep in snow or feathery with ferns
unchanged except by season generations
slower than you can hope to comprehend
underlying mountain almost permanent

nothing inheres in you that is the earth
its own story unfolding in larger terms
care about what goes with who you are
you can't control what happens in the
great beyond or even here at home who
knows the story till it's over must be God

Still There

"I am for art which we do for each other as friends, for ourselves."
—Jonas Mekas

one success is too many
you will never be the same
and always wonder why
and how to do it again

it will spare you nothing
you will suffer as much
and be less understood
well-wishers envy-blinded

luckily few read reviews
so don't listen to praise
or think it widely known
everything is still there

Begin Now

trust understanding respect solidarity and love
begin now and extend indefinitely onward and
forward in time space people and animals we
may eat or be eaten by on another scale world
revolution will be required as we move ahead

One Meaning

like a demonstration of a life well lived
or busted for hitchhiking character and
fate connive to do undo best intentions

meanwhile work is being done plumber
coming in the morning roofer slower to
respond the sun getting hotter every day

one item after another expects attention
sooner or later getting done one meaning
clings to multiplicity another the simple

Ours to Play

even if I don't always say I'm sorry
you realize I am when I should be
thankful that I am not being judged
that is have already been accepted

this is no audition for either of us
the parts are ours to play as we can
and reimagine for a changing time
with or without audience approval

fortunately the weather improves
unfortunately earthquake threatens
meanwhile the house is insulated
fingers ready for the mystic dance

My Condition

your pulse my pulse
beating when we touch
is it real is it love
or only my condition

what is this-I-feel
only the bare beginning
of something special
and present every day

Chickens

I quite enjoy my little eggery
beginning and ending my active
days by tending to my jolly flock
I talk to them freely they chatter away
each expecting the other to perform
typical human and chicken behaviors
and really very rarely disappointed

Little Lapse

old flame still burning
despite the little lapse
never mind all that we
know each other truly
loving to the bitter end

Decent Work

suddenly I'm old the illusion of youthful
vigor impossible to maintain others notice
and are embarrassed or at least regretful
knowing the good times have to end and
God knows what transpire before I die

is it now or do I just need the right drug
to reverse disintegration bounce back for
another round of fun more decent work I
have to hurry up and finish or am I finally
a feeble old man unable to make the effort

let me retain my equanimity at least friend
of the inevitable the end of biography ever
death and loss of everything that mattered
whatever loved survivors regard as virtues
or character I'd offer them a fond goodbye

The Itch

Beethoven works to stop the itching
my hands too busy to scratch tai chi
too consumes and occupies the body
mind breathing transferring weight
writing is too intermittent pause for
thought and the itch leaps up all over
hungry for the satisfying fingernails

Gone Forever

never again always present
London young certain intimate
acts people I wanted to know
better suddenly gone forever

So Long

hard decision what to say
to natural death arriving
upon his own sweet time

I already know his name
from earlier encounters
unhappily remembered

at least my friends not
tortured and enslaved or
stupidly murdered young

we were fortunate to live
so long and creatively
respond to our situation

Not Enough

love is everything
but not enough
you must sadly learn
the mind wanders
interests diverge
you must find each other
again and again

Something to Say

for Marc Janssen

believe in your words don't
mumble and slur them
declaim your poem
to the listening world
demand respect if you
think you deserve it
try to be understood
if you have something to say

Just Playing

do other people exist
obviously I know they do
there they are
but do they really
are they themselves
or just playing themselves
perhaps badly
and what about me
do I

Brighter Colors

our pink house didn't surprise me
glad the spiders were gone Dad at
business Mom in brighter colors

that was how they did things there
and I was trying to fit in arriving
halfway through the snobby affair

you didn't have to be invited if you
paid and it was cheap if you could
afford to go on living there I was

young not knowing any better now
I see how strange it was how little
we understood the deeper motives

My Body

it has to be said that I feel better
staying at home though travel
cities and people I love invigorate
my mind and heart my body
doesn't really like it anymore

New Aches

falling down a sudden shock
at least my bones don't break
scraped palms banged knee
surprises us all a stranger's
kindness and we continue on
to the mobbed museum great
art sold to the great consumer
nothing to regret new aches
anticipate the safety of home

My Meaning

talking all day uses up the words
I might say more if I knew how
gracefully you receive my meaning

stanzas like chapters house famous
works of art and memory between
eating sleeping and climbing hills

these are moment to remember always
happening for the last time this time
you are present at the inauguration

marching for science restates the obvious
truth waving its arms and chanting
as if history undone could be improved

Wound Up

interesting pillows in the guest apartment
when I finally lie down still wound up
from flying alone and talking to my dear
niece and nephew and their spouses
skipping and eating all over the world

Dead End

an hour with Amazon and they can't
solve my problem if you start wrong
nothing can be done fortunately life
is not like that you can back out of a
dead end head off in a new direction

Many Eggs

earthbound bird of lustrous white
I bear your lifeless body to its return
beside the burbling rushing creek
as wilder birds twitter on unaware
buzzards welcome to come and feast
farewell chicken giver of many eggs
delightful ornament to my lively flock

Two Days

still two days before I go
I keep thinking about shirts
and pants and whether to take
my computer so I can watch
movies late at night keep up
journal and dreams and post
my blog from San Francisco

Opening Night

how a writer feels isn't counted
important compared to the work
but it is what value a Broadway
hit if it doesn't make you happy
on opening night and ever after
deliver the quiet joy of memory

This Me

regrettably now I will
never own a sports car
or a Bentley or live in
an old stone house in
Italy or France with a
big happy family like
Francis Ford Coppola
in a good French suit
the same but more so
this me is all there is
what I have suits fine

Deeply Strange

did I tell you what I thought about
your hair or do you not care do you
have your own ideas and what is that
all about is one's behavior completely
independent of what anyone thinks
even you all acting out our confused
and inarticulate values and desires
don't ask if you don't want to know
how deeply strange these patterns are

My Spine

excess gravity makes everything harder
even turning over in the bed where it
unforgivingly presses me down into the
mattress its foam remembering nights of
struggle yesterday's chiropractor lightly
poking my spine as I long for release in
vain from the weight of time the body
barely hefts the stones we carry about

Entirely Understood

did I say what I meant
to say or was that not
me or you I told about
what mattered most

either you were there
or someone else was
as if reading another's
mind was ever easy

I may not have spoken
out loud only thought
it felt so natural to be
entirely understood

Like a Novel

what is thinking the mind
swirls with recollections
and intentions as synapses
converse among themselves
in electrochemical wisdom
contriving word structures
we can read like a novel if
we allow ourselves to think

Good Cheese

help yourself to a drink
and a bite of good cheese
to temper the kick a little
if there is one anymore

let yourself laugh and he
happy to have survived
thus far largely intact
if you think that way

nothing more important
will be happening today
although it's early yet
you never can be sure

Old Eyes

one aspirin usually does the trick
I will soon be feeling good as new
apart from my old eyes and joints

while Santa Rosa Island neglected
is losing its cattle ranching history
scrub reclaiming the old pastures

so the natural deterioration goes
beloved order yields to entropy
and unlike spring will not return

Other Ears

what I said is not for other ears
is not to be said aloud he said
do you hear me saying so it is
the compulsion to record only
for fun knowing nothing lasts

Lost Memories

not just a dream it vanishes
like so much extra waking life
leaving unintelligible regrets
intelligence missed misread

a painting you were carrying
snatched from raised hands
taxi waiting children gone
ahead to your corporate fate

today's wild southern wind
carries all before it wiping
clean the best intentions not
stopping for lost memories

No Sign

no sign of morning yet
could be the worst of it
this the lived-in shadow
falling across each page
if temporarily ignorable
waiting there all the time

Mere Words

I am easily surprised
but not surprised to be
and also the opposite
how little I can know
despite knowing it all
shows itself ever more
hopelessly ill-informed
all I've read forgotten
reduced to mere words

Turn the Page

what is interesting is what interests
you no need to explain the feeling
arises unmistakably when you look
that direction you can't stop looking

don't believe what anyone tells you
matters unless you think more of it
than yesterday before you realized
you were blind now you can see

turn the page without thinking when
the sentence continues out of reach
engaged by a possibility of learning
which of your interests comes first

Completely Relaxed

curling myself into the sofa
after reading from Pasternak
I rest my head on the cushion
and am completely relaxed
touching you then alone
mind easy thoughts calm
sky gray after brightness
warm after an active chill

Complete Happiness

no fooling time changes
everything a quiet joy
comes home to where
complete happiness is
summed up in a sunset
other energies adapted
to what functions now
that we all know better

Before Machines

don't take me to the moon I dread
space flight complications spread
like rogue diseases warm climes
foster I feel natural here on Earth
where my genes chose to evolve
before machines took over living
it's the brute materiality I resent
power spent on a fantasy of flight
for few from the human condition

An Echo

everything is typical you can
make up the details weather
comes around again each day
like another newly reproduced
the order rhymical and random

observe yourself observing it
write it down or you'll forget
but it doesn't matter it comes
around again love gain loss
unique only when it happens

the moment snatches it free
before anything else intrudes
blurs present with memory
this observation an echo of
colors never yet clearly seen

Complex Transactions

air is not nothing
although transparent
you can't see it but
complex transactions
happen inside lungs
it leaves you changed

My Mood

maybe it's old friends dying
that is making me so blue
I'm going strong if achey
and spring is coming along
but the afternoon light is gray
my mood deeper than now
dependent on my pleasures
weary of cleaning the house
sans illusion of going back
hopeless redeeming errors
missed opportunities gone
perfection a lost ambition
oblivion a nearing horizon
only words save the day
lent to a distant mourning

Only Exit

The Times holds you hits you
one-two with ads and fascinating
content the new word for facts
and opinion theoretically helping
you to know what's going on

the only exit is close the window
be where you actually are think
your own thoughts slowly arise
the hours opening out unlimited
interior galaxies outlast all news

Painful Tension

no couples in the play
although we are mostly couples
and happy about it

is drama necessarily miserable
real life too harmonious
to entertain

\are we committed to conflict
needing painful tension
to bring us together

My Chair

what then besides mowing the grass
watching maple buds redden and swell
serenaded by the squeaks of my chair
half-interested in whatever comes up

my screen frantic de Kooning Gotham
News not how I feel or want to feel I
change it to a straight road through a
boring landscape and imagine I relax

How Happy

old photos remind us of time
past recovery what we wore
forgotten more than where
how much younger we were
just a handful of years ago
bittersweet proof of aging
and how happy we were
randomly caught forever

Longer Light

all right then
something must be done
all day doing and seeing things and people
includes fun and obligations

everything is wrong on a macro level
nothing being done to set it right
meanwhile spring
bright flowers celebrate longer light

is it right to be happy
even now
is it fair to live one's own life
in spite of evil foolishness and destruction

The Hill

walking a bicycle
like walking a
horse helps it
climb the hill

not so serious
unless it rains
even then you
just get wet

Spring Rain

more than I can read
don't stop buying books
more movies than I can
take time to see through
more stories in more
newspapers magazines
online revelations more
secret aspects of the world
falling like spring rain

So Long

nothing lasts long even stone
breaking up into rubble or sand
words cut into wax dissolved
in the merciless heat of time

but time is not so long for us
memory may fade and vanish
genealogy remains informing
who we actually are right now

let it be gone without remorse
each corpuscle doing its will
then reverting to only atoms
affirming process all that is

Doing Nothing

how did it happen that I am here
doing nothing to change the situation
that I like the way it is now
never to realize the other option
which might have been equally good

instead I travel far in time and space
reading in books of others' travels
no need to go there myself
and couldn't if it is all long over
gone with magicians and seers forever

We Forgot

those who got along did better
and we forgot to be ourselves

temporarily the bad guys win
then start fighting each other

needing to be thought strong
we will all join in and suffer

Like Chickens

hardly more books than raindrops
no one thing defines all you can do
and be busily chasing all week the
days like chickens waiting to be fed

I pick up one and then another try
and participate fully before moving
on the next subject of investigation
opening like another Broadway show

Ear Plugs

my noise your music
worship song I have to
respect horrible to me
it's not my music no
excuse for letting it play

later silence between
raindrops ear plugs in
fills empty distance
measurable in hours
here and back again

In Secret

attention like a stylus
scrubs around inside
my brain groping for
interest and coherence
telling myself be still
and wait the meaning
will emerge in secret

Still Modern

we calmly forgot to read
what we always read
Pasternak barely legible
but thrillingly himself
Elizabeth Bishop lonely
Marianne Moore held
captive by her mother
Scriabin still modern
after all these years
and again it is Sunday
and we calmly forgot

Bathing Wounds

rain rushes sideways across the sky
denying all boundaries and borders
turning earthward where it pauses
watering gardens bathing wounds

how can we drink enough to fill
the gaps between places and tasks
spinning minds gaze heavenward
wet with the language of weather

General Drift

one of the ways I know
is what you tell me
otherwise it's guesswork

even knowing you pretty well
no one can really imagine
how another person thinks

I know what you think about
most of the time at least
the general drift is secret

neither can you follow me
I am generally drifting too
both on our singular path

Made Up

more to say to more people
doesn't wait for chocolate
if they want the best brand
I know what it is and where

more to say to more kinds
of people listening closely
thinking heaven knows what

more words ready for the
camera dramatically made up

more said never too much

Slow Work

sketching is art too
no blame for quickness
when the light changes
before you can catch it
painting is slow work
words come fast

Watch Out

I think everyone can say
whatever they want
and everyone else watch out
it may be off the wall
and profoundly wrong
or vulgar and even evil
just watch out
they still can say it
I wish they wouldn't
I wish some attitudes didn't exist
I keep my distance

Too Real

I feel like I'm going to explode
but nothing happens bursting
with sympathy for a story in a
book by Teju Cole what people
endure and retain their sweetness
unvalued in the overcrowding
too real for me even to imagine

Never Empty

these words are mine

while I squeeze them

we can all partake of

their renewable juice

they are never empty

never entirely owned

we can all taste them

at the same exact time

First Person

the first person is not me

you or anyone we know

a greater writer thinking

might achieve an actual "I"

acknowledged mentioned

in the hebdomadal report

"I am myself" he insists

after extensive reflection

and no one calls him out

So Often

how satisfying when

it all works out

as it so often does

when there is peace

and you can pay

Changing Course

reading three books now

writing two now that one

is finished how can I think

driving into Portland for

lunch walk a little concert

heard all over the world

what happens in between

when I am changing course

momentarily doing nothing

The Month

first daffodil announces March
the month makes a difference
like what state you are living in
is culture really like the seasons
alas not weather sustains itself
without depending on humans
spring will come in spite of us

Any Words

life is a spark flying up into the black sky
also a river ever flowing and the fish in it
any words will be treasured and believed
life is weather also a ringing in your ears
and more I knew this morning in the pool

Old Books

stagnant pools of objects gather
every surface overpopulated in
transit from yesterday beyond
tomorrow I will address them
one by one worn-out clothes old
books I never want to read rooms
full of paper dense with writing
I'll never overtake I will be taken
from them never to be seen again

Limited Thinking

the difficulty is oneself
my own thinking limited
by class and happenstance
my own mind untrustable

for example the economy
works well enough for me
and the people I know
selected by commonality

from this I conclude
wrongly all kinds of stuff
vaguely valid in my bubble
actually jejeune and dumb

or the value of what I do
and believe in as if art
self-pleasuring replaces
sacrifice to answer need

congratulating myself
for love health wealth
as virtues proving I am
right in everything I do

no ability to see beyond
one's own sweet interests
buffered against remorse
justified by evolution

Not Us

I avoid speaking about anything
not tonight's extra-glittery stars
random doings of a standard day
whatever new fright in the news
that everyone is thinking about
and wishing they didn't have to
nature is what is not us humans
who get to decide what to admit
into the holy precinct of our art

Memory Foam

how long does the night go on
without respite despite memory
foam and feather pillows ears
protected by the softest plugs
bones fully charged with ease

I dream of a job at the Times
lose myself in the hidden city
shut off the first alarm return
to the comfort of the mattress
forget everything but the light

What Was Said

talk feeds on itself
the subject alive or
dead goes on being
mentioned in print
or on the web or air
every recorded death
discoverable later on
if anyone should look
wonder what was said
when we were talking

What Matters

who can say what matters
but to move through space
acting speaking or silently
recalling time stealing past

persons appear and vanish
changing and still the same
slow revealing what will be
what matters when it's done

Moderate Success

if I had known more
I could have done better
instead I pretended
I already knew enough

I "learned on the job"
and got away with it
until I couldn't bear
pretending anymore

did something else
I also never mastered
in spite of a decade
spent trying to learn

returning to my roots
I kept blundering along
stumbling into wisdom
never really unmasked

ending as well as anyone
after moderate success
making a virtue out of
ignorance and confusion

How to Play

no distance with the baby
demonstrating how to play
a whole person 18 months
much growing yet to do
already entirely himself

Earlier Attempts

back up latest version
that should be enough
revision is irrevocable
in practice not theory
posterity will deplore
archived variant texts
no one will read them
I will never have time
back up latest version
erase earlier attempts

Green Soul

down by the river
deep ancient forces
rise to the surface
everything explained
certain neurons fire
and random memories
burst like skyrockets
showers of petals fall
caressing my green soul
awake from winter sleep

Another Book

one-click living speeds the norm
rain driving across the uncaring
planet we happen to inhabit soon
another book appears unbound
ready to be readily absorbed
becoming part of myself forever

Nibbles

aisins walnuts cheddar
enable continued sitting
reading about attention

backgrounded normal
evening hunger easily
appeased with nibbles

Last Word

the first possible moment
admires a wry expression
misplaced regret merging
algebra or ancient history
with individual chemistry
finding treasures ahunting
wilder impressions of love
when the last word is said
shuts the back gate forever

The Question

the answer is yes
if the question is properly asked

Even Opera

always singing sounds better in Italian
even opera may be better in French or
German too well understood as music
supports words it doesn't really need

still we are here talking listen on the
side while making Sunday pancakes
I bought raspberries after ours expired
like forgotten devotion to the local rag

you have to use the language you have
trying to say enough but not too much
people would rather talk than listen to
what your words insist on spelling out

What I Saw

if I can see I can say
what I saw I may be
right or misperceive
or even intentionally
blind to what is real
and really happened
wanting it different
and so correcting it

Each One

aren't we all fathers and sons
or else mothers and daughters
how can it be as special as it
feels when they communicate
or don't come visit all relaxed
and friendly or losing the beat
retreat in confused remorse

aren't we all vulnerable to loss
experiencing each one acutely
even when it hasn't happened
yet knowing it eventually will
whatever the weather and our
state of health wealth common
sense counsling don't go there

Full Lives

is it as bad as Elizabeth Warren says
I am the middle class doing all right
on the downhill slope despite decades
of improvisation lucky in my parents
the younger generation managing too
eating housed enjoying their full lives
usefully employed or planning to be
there I said it that's what I had to say

Healthy Habits

what would I think about
if I thought about anything
beyond my breathing body
children grown up and gone
work substantially complete
assets conservatively invested
habitat comfortably arranged
healthy habits and routine
indeed there is a little more
another personal appearance
another book to connect me
to the world of other people
affirmation of common sense
and creativity's higher value
when I'm ready to think again

Kidding Around

actual circumstances go unnamed
everyone already knows you think
it is all the same for them although
their situation is entirely different
nothing shows you can't imagine
what they think and don't express

try again you don't want to know
the details this is no time for that
we are idealistically doing poetry
mailing out festival brochures and
kidding around on wine and cheese
regardless of whatever is going on

What Day

forget what day it is
and that it's raining
none of that matters
only that you exist
the future will come
you can be there then
remembering the real

Who You Were

call yourself anything
you can be who you like
in theory at least no one
will remember later on

inner release is harder
you will never be able
to forget who you were
before the great change

sameness as an illusion
requires to be nurtured
allowed to expire it will
naturally decay to dust