Monday, November 29, 2010

Wellness Argument

When it comes to cosmic arguments,
nobody defends the sick.
The sickness argument hides defenseless,
and the wellness argument
wins by default.

Never let healthy men
visit you in hospital.
They will tell you
to breathe and rise
when you only want to sigh.

They will bring
upright fragrances
and inquire after your appetite
when you close your heart to
reminders of laughing tables.

They won't see
how they pull you
out of the sweet pool
near the quiet gate.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Missed Preventions

Naturally I'm afraid
discovering old enemies
who still slink about
in my new small world.

Can I stop them this time
even though I feel fine
and joy awaits? The room
is bright but winter looms.

Perfect peace is a worn
sheet with small familiarity-holes.
Worry is a habit I learned
from missed preventions.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Yes! Poets!

My my we are fine,
girlish filagree
sensory wicks waiting
for tastes in autumn evenings.

We ask gently,
we stretch halfway
without exertion to
speed our hearts.

Not merely wanting,
weave baskets
out of romance,
extended strands of longing.

Half open, half vulnerable
nothing fully happens.
We let truth start
We dip and sigh.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

My Cup Runneth

My electrons
scud happily
about my brain
I love the fluid
leaps like air
sliding over mountain.

When I open my eyes
color like tin pan
music from the sun
and fluid flows,
the slipping and
oozing of syrups and
waters.

In my closed eyes
mandalas of sunlight
are the precursors of dreams.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Human Condition

When I love you,
watching from the the part of me

who never really joined the world,
I look at you cold.

Cruel thoughts feel at home
in the shadows of my tenderness.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Small Potatoes

Once again
the squeaky voice
I can't keep down
leaks.


While the giants
around me strut
and win their prizes
I keep


calling out in
empty rooms.
The merchants
come


and offer to
give me a small
inoccuous presence for
a fee


but I know
the infantile dreams
I tried to make real
are part of sleep.

Big Question

If I have
a vision of a big mistake
made years ago
I say, "Dear God"
and the vision goes away,
absorbed in petulent forgiveness.


Dear God,
are You the great Eraser of Visions,
Bosom Taker, Confirmer
of good Intentions?