Friday, May 25, 2018

Thirteenth May Poem


not seeing the canvas
we grope the darkness for meaning
if we are alert
stuck in a moment in time
or if we are not awake yet
groping for safety and survival
clinging to a past moment.
we can’t know:
no single moment in time exists
smell this lily of the valley
each moment we perceive
really contains all moments
colors in the face of a pansy.
maybe someday we’ll move on
to understand: this place we think we are in
contains all places.
hear the dawn birdsong
then we’ll make our way from here to there
and everywhere in no time
theta, unknown variable
touch your lover’s warm skin
psi before omicron
taste his kiss
it won’t matter:
an hour ahead or a mile away
one foot moves ahead of the other
cool breeze or violent gust
time and distance mean nothing
one foot moves ahead of the other
in the soft sand, on the smooth rock,
or wading in the wine-dark sea.

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Twelfth May Poem

Gray Forecast in Two Movements

look past the fog: the blue
outside jets’ windows
Beethoven’s moonlight
on an expansive Turner landscape
lie quietly: imagine
cloud tops as carpeting
surrounding Monet’s water lilies
eastern masters who paint us, tiny,
under low-lying layers
of rain-laden clouds
balsam and sweet cherry smoke
fill a velvet nest
as new age angels rehearse atonally
lavender flying at ten thousand feet

beaming sunlight
will smash darkness
with a forbidden riff of electric notes
to eat away at winter’s salty crust
wrap arms around
this crackling sledgehammer of fire
that burns shocked apathy
dispels cultivated routines of sadness
and stagnant weather patterns
artificial inertia or ennui,
toxic drama of familiarity

energy builds
enough to break through
always the answer is yes

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Eleventh May Poem


“Try asking the Dark where
the Light comes from.” Oliver Wood

Try asking the Dark where the Light comes from.
The Dark won’t answer. Its silence speaks volumes.
Ask the Light if it notices the darkness.
“It’s never there when I arrive.
We always miss each other by mere moments.”
-- the Light is really the same as the Dark,
with changes in ionization and wave motion.
Ask someone who knows
(Thich Nhat Hanh? Zizek? Albright? Nietzsche?)
just why that is.
Translate it into code, type it up
(Times New Roman, 12 pitch, single spaced)
and send it to me in a letter.
Now I know, too.
With knowledge like that we have no difficulties
at the DMV, or on the freeway,
or in the liquor store checkout.
That understanding illuminates our path.
Step by step we walk to greater heights.
We master the basic concepts of macroeconomics,
streamline the Northeast Grid,
design better egg cartons.
We don’t even notice
when we fall off the edge into a false nirvana.
We cry out as we fall
but there is no pain, no maiming point of impact.
We simply emerge again into a new existence.
This time around we ask more ordinary questions:
how do lilacs create that scent,
when will we kiss again,
why is it so dark?

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Tenth May Poem


“Nothing exists
except atoms
and empty space;
everything else
is opinion.”

“Yeah, well,
you know,
that's just like, uh,
your opinion, man.”
The Dude

slide yourself
into the space
between that
carbon atom
and the hydrogen
just knife
through that wall,
that Mack truck,
that falling rock
use your mind
have the opinion
that it is possible
so that all
universal forces
by which I mean
matter space
and opinion
are in alignment
for one glorious
moment which is
all moments at once
but I just can’t
manage any
of this before
my first cup
of coffee

Friday, May 11, 2018

Ninth May Poem


I dream that children
fight, falling from the trees
while moon and stars
lie quiet in their beds.

I dream that music
explodes, falling from the trees
while moon and stars
tremble in their beds.

I dream that rivers
collapse, falling onto the trees
while moon and stars,
universes, galaxies, shine
quietly in our heads.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Eighth May Poem

All Around You

Look up to those clouds that march sedately across
the spring sky, whispering with love. Listen
to the tallest trees’ branches. As scarves of rain
sweep the water’s surface, store it in your cells
like sunshine, like vitamin D, like love letters tied up in silken
cords, never dreaming of the day they are tossed on the fire
because moving on is all we can ever do.

Seventh May Poem


Three goslings
in my fog
I thought
they’d eaten
the sun.

Tuesday, May 08, 2018

Sixth May Poem


jump with the light still in you move and don’t stop
when uncountable white trucks pass by one after another
don’t think too much about screen doors scooping light out
with frowning logic so sharp ever the danger
of breaks in cell walls where shoulds creep in with fists
wet brain but worse can’t be turned back reversed
jump instead with the light keep moving dance
keep eating whatever star it is that burns so hot
it cannot be resisted we return again and again
to dry up our sadness like liquid moths with hearts
just listen no words just listen keep dancing keep jumping
let light bounce around where others can spot the ray
of god’s eye catch the heat stop counting the trucks
that are not counting you don’t think feel sun on skin
skin on aching skin soft grass underfoot
hills into horizon covered with tender green leaves
caressing our eyes luring us into the beat
deep throbbing weeping from time to time
over minor fall over mystery chord swelling voice
leaping forth tying voice to other voices
until rising volume of pastel angels’ chorus
drowns any plaid disagreement stops all thought
only sound sound rising up and up until sound
becomes light banishes time until white hot
we become whatever universe we can