Friday, December 31, 2010

Goodbye to Another Old Man

Although I relied on
the restaurant for friendship

and expected
a grand farewell

they said it cold.
Although I tried to meet their eyes

they passed me uncaught.
Honest people of business,

they knew their true wordlessness.
There was no free dessert.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

A Full Passage

I ask, "Who are you?"
now that we reach a parting.
How long did it take

to grow your heart?
Pieces at a time
from emptiness;

or from popping
into this universe
full of old memory?

How long is the passage
through your body?
Where does it lead?

We laugh and take each other
over the past.
How deep is that?

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Burning Bush



Moses had clear eyes,
grew up among princes
counting bales of grain
and keeping books.

Loved simple
miracles constructed of
ordinary things. Making
magic out of parting waters,

snake-bearing rods,
reverberating speeches,
bushes flare
in front of sunsets.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

What I Want to Say to the Young Man about The Missing Cat

I'm old and
find myself worrying about the cat,
while you
open the door
and rush about the world.

I'm light in weight now
never really
leaving my night clothes,
a confined creature.
You think of bigger outside things.

Your promises to me are
small in worth.
Now I know I am old,
far beneath you.
My voice fades.
I fall asleep with prayers.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Big Leaf in December

Only humble organelle,
just stiffened
but graceful as a statue

streamlines that
would carry life seepage
closed, unrepairable

abandoned body
still paper yellow
like a memory.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Infotainment

I'm tired
of treating the gods
and famous as if they were friends.

I won't send
them any more hurrahs
addressed to Hollywood or Mount Olympus,

won't read
about their ins and outs. I'll
let them vanish just like any other strangers.

It's darker
down here in the valley
but I've been here a long time and will stay.

Friday, December 03, 2010

Two Mile Walk to the Hospital

Rot
has its place
on the road beside the harbor.
Black with old grease
and rust so rusted it blackens,
and men ride encrusted machines
that slip among the white white
yachts.

It's beautiful,
navy
washed by clean sea wind.
But earth enters in
when you are walking.