Monday, June 29, 2009

Dreams of a Dying Man

On the bed of final hours
her father dreams

as if he is young
and has his appetites.

Offers made by the world
in dreams point to the future,

wanted things
and sweet tastes.

Memories of the past
are now. The he who

tells us about dreams
expects new days.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

The Recluse' Argument

We have trouble with each other
from the time of our birth
the joy often
isn't worth the grief.

Dragging an unwilling child
through the onerous duties of the day,
we sigh and fall down among the cushions
wanting silence.

Divorce and screaming in the night,
passionate pains
broken walls, we would be
better off with solitude.

Friday, June 26, 2009

On Seeing "Truman Capote"

The poetry
calls out to me,
slow limpid,
but I have to find the thought.

This poetry is
lost in muddles. A tone, toneless.
I see drops of saline,
hear a slow wet march
but can't find the thought.

I know, poetry
will be in words that break logic
someone's confession,
secrets in memories, gates
fragile and slowly opened.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The Looking Glass Corridor

(This was written after I spent an hour in hospital corridors and tunnels.)

A human dressed
like an angel
concludes by saying, "take care"
before sallying forth
down the long business corrider.

I walk through the tunnel,
surrounded by multicolored tubes.
Humans in uniforms grow near then diminish
into vanishing point
entrances to new encounters.

Iron monsters
with bearded men astride,
stir a whirlwind
crashing past me howling warnings
then evanesce into silence.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Butcher's Scale

When no price
is put on speech
and we aren't just doing our job,
we call it friendship.

Oh some of us
are good at hiding our salary.
When secured in a retainer, the giving of speech
doesn't really go by the minute.

The shame is
how quickly we start being
counted by the dozen or by the hour.
Duration times number equals amount.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Kurt Lewin's Visions

You don't see
a lot of happiness
on the bus.
Nobody is alive here,
not in the interstices,
passing into slack
limbo with the look
of uneasy sleep.
Natural expression.
locked up and sad,
open-eyed trance,
between one wakefulness
and another.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Rachel's Sister*

Sometimes when I'm waiting,
I lose heart and say,
when will it come?

Even as the days dwindle,
there is still hope in my question.
Steel myself

to keep from running,
get myself to bed,
hide someplace warm;

but I want to plunge
into disaster,
want to welcome accidents.


Monday, June 08, 2009


We put in our 20 bucks
and sit down.
For each twenty-five cents
we get a spin at the prayer wheel,
in the hall of prayer wheels.

When we pull the red lever
the prayer wheel sends
it's question up to God
I watch as it spins;
say yes?

I know Who speaks
in the language of chance,
answers my queries with
random yes or no and seals
a small part of my twenty-dollar fate.

Status Report


You ask how is Joyce
I can't answer.
She is 2 years away
from last contact
with the floor. The
substrate of her life
has bent so far that it
no longer holds her.
Everything is muscle tight
and pain, wheelchair, beds and
She is

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Note to the Killers of Flies

Keep your rights
in proportion.
Flies are citizens,
born in this very place.

The International Diety
shows no favorites
and sees acts of death as murder.
His hand has started millions of years of evolution

which cannot be taken lightly.
When you murder them
honor their spirit
as it passes, and pray that new ones replace them.

Friday, June 05, 2009


Thursday, June 04, 2009

Moon and Fly

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Early Summer Storm