Time Comes

nothing can be done
until the time comes
upon the moment you
will do what it allows
try as hard as you can
strong as you really are
and it will be enough
it will be all there is
and this too will pass

Less to Lose

fear is less
when you've less to lose
the moment of course
is ruined
but the future
has already come
and gone

What Happens

the story continues
whether or not told
story what happens
regardless of why or
who if anyone knew
or cared to write it
immanent context
vastly too complex
to be wholly known

Be Better

Stafford ever better reminds every one
be better to be good enough for Oregon

What Next

was that yesterday already
forget what happens next
before it can be written up

tomorrow not coming soon
enough intervals of ecstasy
to sink a battleship of fools

My Effort

the world is still here
demanding to be read
like the books I read
or write or wish to read
or write or read or write
again looking for clues

all my effort avails little
for the world goes on
with or without words
or people who read talk
or write saying all they
can while they still can

Always Plenty

writing a letter is easy
you just have to do it
fingers flying on keys
always plenty to say

interpersonal contact
exchange of thoughts
sympathy for troubles
makes lives complete

To Chew

goodbye to another tooth
it had to go and won't be missed
even so it's a bit of a shock
I need a little time to recover
and be able to freely chew again

Being Yourself

it is easy to act like Whoopi Goldberg
if you are Whoopi Goldberg
the same with being yourself
you don't have to make it up

More Blue

the color palette changes with the light
I promised myself more blue and lavender
instead I look at green and gray and wonder
why and how the seasons know to change
ah it is the thing about the sun and planets
resulting in all these disturbing alterations
hadn't they thought about how we'd feel

Honey

my thoughts are bees
my mind a hive
they buzz in dancing
some make honey

So Big

visible horizon
goes all around
turn your head
see sky so big
rotate entirely

Even More

nothing is what it is
except in passing
yourself young
no longer exists
yet that was real
even more than this
your youngness
forever your own

No Excuse

what a disaster this travesty threatens
normal hopeful common-sensicalness
relativism no excuse for no judgment
whoever you were you have been had
embarrassment the trivial least of it
wrong not just being on the other side
whatever their issues let good prevail

Higher Things

I need to work quickly too little
time to catch a thought already
thinking itself readiness is all

revise at leisure virtual writing
abandoned to a floating screen
impinging on imaginary mind

set afloat on precious culture
never mentioned in a political
world higher things don't count

Ancient Statues

what fun it used to be to travel
I could walk for miles soak up
another city's shape and flavor
flounder in an unfamiliar tongue
every awkward choice adventure

why go to Rome again what do
I haven't done before absorbed
when I was thirstier feeling up
ancient statues in the Capitoline
Museum out of sight of guards

declining as the world declines
I now would rather be at home
and do the regular things I do
exercise see friends just live
as myself in my own language

Go Deep

edges meet at corners and stop
you turn away unable to decide
whether to go somewhere else
or back what other possibilities
may offer themselves for taking

how were you not on the broad
flat plain but out at the extreme
embracing perverse distinction
to your own confused distress
when the other is much easier

the world is not cubic after all
swimming in one wide shallow
surface you can easily explore
or holding your breath go deep
amid dimmer profounder forms

No More

what was said is all that will be said
at some point there is no more coming
the provisional answer will stand pat
no one will reach the hoped-for end

so the story is one of inevitable failure
what you expected is not in the cards
the world is doing what all worlds do
each consciousness lost in the general

Each Breath

touching the mountain with a feather
tasting the moment of each breath
resting in holding creating each other
then the bell rings and the time is up

More Attention

three days of cold ahead
I don't mind I like winter
warm in my smartwool
snug insulated dwelling
inconvenience a bump
in the otherwise smooth
progression of my days
awakens more attention

Never There

can I think
except in words
except by talking to myself
like the rain softly murmuring
no voice but my own

more than words
I see in movies
curiously real as dreams
until they slowly dissolve
never there at all

Good Advice

sometimes out loud my own voice
makes humorous remarks regarding
a number set ot random eventuality
I notice as I am performing my life

good advice or tricks of symmetry
too trivial to mention to any other
amuse me as much as ever so I am
pleased to mention them to myself

I keep it quiet if others are nearby
knowing they might consider it odd
tho everyone does it on the q.t. it's
not the kind of thing we talk about

Goings-on

snow quiets
farm sleeps
animals eat
children go

wind blows
light shines
slush melts
music plays

Another Move

the details don't matter they are
whatever they happen to be you
were here or there with this or
that person having appropriate
ideas to your place and time it
might have all been different if
anybody made another move it
does matter how happy or sad
you are with the one you love
the rest could just as well be
anything you care to make up

Cold Children

setting sun gilding snow
offers an ecstasy of light
cold children voices echo

one man to three women
balance demands robust
rededication to the good

Good Ideas

some days there is nothing left
no greater words than appetite
having done and eaten your fill

you still think well of yourself
composed cheerful helping out
then gracefully stepping aside

others are admirably complete
good ideas in abundant flower
this precious time actual living

Better Times

light comes slowly January mornings
fading out early in the afternoons we
need our gas and electric to survive it
comfortably dry and warm we can
read and write whenever we so desire

this is not natural but the good fruit of
civilization teetering with unmeasured
stress and fractured rationality we fear
breakdowns leaving us exposed to the
real conditions of animals on the earth

those we care for more sharply at risk
more years ahead to sustain themselves
find satisfactions we already enjoyed a
future unimaginable the dubious present
no longer implying better times ahead

In the Middle

between good and bad the world is real
whether you like it or don't there it sits
deal with it won't conveniently go away

you too sit breathing neither happy nor
anything else whatever else happens
you are alive in the middle of existing

Private Meaning

something has to go there is
too much it weighs me down

everything's private meaning
clings arousing poor attention

who will read these roomsful
of paper cluttered with words

anywhere else its value is less
if no one really cares but me

and my interest is exhausted
before I even begin to look