Still Here

endless doing wears thin
ongoing crisis wears out its welcome
anxiety of identity makes it hard to eat
where is the liberation pill
wise words enable calm

breathe you are not alone
molecules interpenetrate exchange
everything is still here
not a breath but my own
looking for the way not out but in

Expiration Date

it all seems like a mistake
now that we realize the cost
how can I be important one
of billions knowing and using
the same simple words poor
me on a trivial planet dying

Closing Night

something is to be said but what
is it the window is closing night
is outside trying to get in time a
magazine rapid-firing newsmen
fill blank racket patriotic poses
curdled fame tanks raw dissent
strategic spoilage poisonalities
on display call in when you can

Already Wise

can I sit and think
what about without
putting it in words
to be written out
 
am I come undone
nothing I can do
nowhere I can go
dependent on you
 
and you on me of
course already wise
to how it goes
even poetry dies
 

Tai Chi

children's voices from the creek
tai chi in the park on a hot day
four of us sync with our teacher
smell of cut grass slow precision
sun spots like unwanted attention
hot breezes off the pool parking
cooling when the direction shifts
specimen trees fine companions
bow to each other at conclusion

After All

after all we used to think possible
what remains we have composed
to be like this here now for a time
refreshed by the changing seasons

after all we are still who knows it
listening for hints of unspoken joy
itches aches pains the aging body
better able to bear the old routine

after all the moment come move
on the day breakfast and all that
ready to receive and giving back
blessings grateful to be our own

What I Mean

if I can't talk to you there's
no one between us only air

this the way it is then words
hopeless only action speaks

you don't wait for approval
or care what I am thinking

interesting if true love truly
on another level altogether

I believe what I must must
avoid saying what I mean

Rabbit Thoughts

for Walt Whitman

nature is a problem now
growth needs to be cut back
beauty an accidental remnant

my ceaseless musing hurts
without revealing its sources
in turmoil like incoherent soup

possible solutions never stick
cleaning the field for more dirt
rising sun watching in dismay

what we have done to deserve
this only too obvious heedless
instinct pushing its own button

such a situation uncreated calls
for leaps of joy beyond when
failing legs no longer spring be

mellow in your later years be
happy to have loved be glad
not to have made things worse

Even Women

we are all immigrants nothing but
some fleeting glimpse or sense
remains of where we came from
ancestors moving out long ago
driven off or hoping for better
remembering only recent moves
that somehow happened to us

we are all veterans of wars
we didn't wage or want to be
surrogate suffering inescapable
drafted without exception or
escape to Canada nowhere safe
all threatened by poisoned air
water animals mass destruction

we are all women even men
in burly trucks showing off
exulting in power underfoot
even women calling the shots
know better the limits of life
encased in muscle sturdy bone
drawing down the balance

we embody our time and self
descended from a better dream
depleted by not mere difference
but degradation impermissible
arrogance in privileging this
above all as if final throes
had never been seen before

Lively Lingo

"a slow-spoken orotundity" the mark
of a true writer himself getting along
finding lively lingo on any subject
living in Paris kids or aging or not
like Neil Young preserving the craft
and art for still adoring younger fans
whatever New Yorker readers may like
to think about in freshly lucid words