Blurbs
For the first twenty two years
I brooded as an angry genius or something
Here to save the world
Industry of effort my daily bread and every breath
You all shall see!
I will bear the cross of the world and one day set you all free!
If you had told me that
A time would come
Where Eliot’s words of Prufcock
Returning no doubt
Served a purpose of pleasure
Not even he may have said would come about:
A coffee table mantelpiece
In an Airbnb
Then maybe I could have seen!
That work of mine
To set you all free
Kept me locked within-a make believe key
07/02/23
Always on the verge of a game
Don’t overthink it
Or think it
Watch!
The dogs are laughing
Listen!
The delivery of jokes smile
Feel!
The sisterhood of fun and funny
Taste!
A big red strawberry
07/02/23
Been here before
Been here before
o the score is kept
Or
We beg with applause
For more?
Moving through,
Movement is!
Excitement lingers
And candles can sing
What curious behavior
This-ness brings!
Feeling here
And here feeling me
A resemblance of
What has always been
Where been has been
What always is
07/02/23
Space in song
Sings along
One instrument
One time
You surround
08/08/22
All gifts are given
So simple, so true
Mine from manna
And yours by the moon
Open them, unwrap
Follow the tune
Delight in me
And I shall delight
In you
03/17/23
Mary Oliver
The Cape Cod kind eh?
O-live O-live, Ma!
Those long black branches
O-live O-live, Ma!
No one told you yet?
The talk of grass as
Conversation with
Grass!
03/15/23
I don’t quite know
That space between words
02/10/23
So, sometimes
There is an eFfect
The eyelids become
Somewhat discontent
Much is seen
much is unkempt
Opening opening
Here we are
Opening opening
Come so far
Knowing me and
Knowing me before
Our narrative’s word
Yesteryear
Closing them I feel
A lightful gentleness
come to feel
Otherwise escaping
That lightness
02/10/23
One day
The universe
Reached out
Within me
And all that was
Was one and all
Second day
The universe
Sang to me
And we danced together
Playing in the stars
Through delighted Falls - it even guffawed!
Third day
The universe
Appeared as the golden
space pirate Captain Sneeze!
And claimed stake on galaxies
Until I blew out its plated knees!
Fourth day
The universe
Kissed me
And I felt it strange
So asked adults
Who told me to stop.
Fifth day
The universe
Asked to play
And I turned it away
Too old, too old for you
I lectured to my ancient friend
Sixth day
The universe
Walked by
And didn’t knock
Proud, I have power
I said to myself and my friends
Seventh day
The universe
Didn’t show
And I forgot it had showed before
10/20/22
Willingness to be pulled across the form
We call courage
08/20/22
What I have seen before
I do not see again
What I have heard before
I do not hear again
Yes it may come
But it doesn’t appear
Memory not melody
Still a delight
Though different
08/10/22
Ode to my friend
I have heard the song of a lifetime!
And it rockets me from gravity!
I soar and look down…
mel…
ody..?
Oh wait, that’s my little person
we really are flying oh Lordy… Geeze!
It kicks the shit out of me!
Oh please oh please go back to sleep for me
Oh now I rue that playful idea
That dares sings me free!
Who told you my name?
I demand your answer for
this is my property.
Can’t you see?
What absurdity!
Stop your metronome
immediately!
I conceive You
But Your treble
conceives me?!
I have known you before
Haven’t I? Have not I!
Huh. I’ll have to tell my friend
Space between space
Such destiny in stillness…
The song of a lifetime
Knows our names!
Songs sing!
Reflecting This
The origin of all songs
Mysterious source at hand!
Glimmering parts
Of a shining Whole
Nothing dances!
What odds!
Laughter erupts around me
Then I see myself laughing
What lightness here
With the birds
Thanks for watching me
Now we watch together
The rules are now
With
The wind!
Thrown!
Our bodies’ throes forgotten
Cumulus clouds explode!
Timing time
Dancing dance
Wondering wonder
What a silly tune
I told you I heard it!
08/06/22
Watch me
And I’ll watch you
Hear me
And I’ll hear you
Follow me
And I’ll follow you
Embrace me
And I’ll embrace you
Love me
And I am you
08/02/22
Stillness in balance
What irony!
Normally when you strike oil you feel it hit your face.
07/23/22
Tasteless stick
hangs in the hot air.
I am addicted to it
and it is addicted to me.
My heart vibrates
against it. I hear it shout.
And my body bends.
It bends! It exclaims!
Will I survive?
Thank God for breath
says mind.
“Remember to breath,”
says teacher
to mine.
These poses laugh!
Millions of bodies
they’ve worn before.
A strange costume, I am.
Yet I call mine a special kind!
Am I sure I know
my figure more
than these poses
who’ve known millions
across time?
Or how about
these water beads
between my lips?
Has this same water
not kissed millions too?
So this water
can't just be mine.
Returning to
that vibrating heart,
I remember now.
That tasteless stick
hanging in the hot air.
They call this hot room.
(06/26/22)
That pliable plop called language
How dare words contort that which we call reality
A bee is a bee is a bee
Can it not be?
From Winter’s thick molasses to
Spring’s thick plot about this honey-bee
“Thickness” laughs at thee
05/26/22
The universe changing
The universe
Humans no exception
Vibrating existence
On God’s cello
And we also get
To describe this!?
Such uncommon existence
Bringing uncommon power
Needn’t surprise
Knowing it
Is knowing where
You’re from
Already home
05/26/22
Narrative o narrative
Comfort me please
For my body sends me senses
And my mind desires your ease
Who am I without you
But the forces punching these keys
Don’t make me look
Narrative o narrative… please!
Who am I without you
But the nothing between my knees?
Narrative o narrative
What’s left when you are gone?
Without you there wasn’t
And now not-ness lingers
Narrated by dream’s dreams
Narrator, remind me of these
05/26/22
Reverberating inside
Memory tuned by tuning fork
Casts it shadow
Says its name is idea
05/26/22
Those birds the bells
In harmony
Separate species, yet
gentle melody
Because I have named them
I don’t hear them
Because I expect them
I don’t see them
What’s left I call bird
The tree bells
(05/14/22)
Dare I witness thought?
A stream whose source I cannot see
Dare I speak aloud right here right now?
Private no longer, yours and me
Dare I act and roll the dice of destiny?
We shall see!
Attend these three stages
Lovely
(05/14/22)
I am from the vibrations
That deep grumbling sound raised me
In an abyss so vast.
I am perched there.
Looking back
So hold my gaze
But not to console me
And take my trembling hands
But not to calm me
And reach for my face
But not to silence me
I am from the vibrations, remember
And these grumbling sounds
Raised me
(05/07/22)
How does the wind know me?
My skin says we’ve met before
While it sweeps nature from the floor
How does the wind know me?
But not by name,
whispering in my ears the same
How does the wind know me?
The thing that moves the sky
And dares to push on my
How does the wind know me?
Presenting those curious bird-things
That gives semblance to wings
How does the wind know me?
Wet and dry face kisses
Even in the presence of my Mrs
How does the wind know me?
The blinding dot
Lights up this whole place?
And when it sinks
Beneath the sea
It whispers to thee
“see my hundreds”
How can I
Be expected to believe
That these twinkles
Won’t then blind me?
A blinding dot
Once fixed in place
Now gone,
Reveals children
Lightness has come
As a much larger effect
When darkness sets in
If we pay attention
Pemmy, somehow
Proof that truth
can confer love, wisdom, and play
Without a word.
moving a human mind
To generate these
truth is that proof
Isn’t everything
Silly doggy
Beings are here and there
Listen now and you will hear them.
And most…
Appear not human.
Our planet teems with life
Yet I call it ours?
To imagine another
Is hardly an imagination
For in a world so large
Supposedly cradled by
an eternal blackness
Polka-dotted with light
It all has been imagined
And doesn’t know the human before
So imagine more!
And be
Alongside all
Stepping back!
What a joke!
The insights come
From a stable mind
But a stream requires
The mind to attend to it
And unsettles it all the while
For streams run over
Rocks of random
And usually nice
assortment
How easy to be fooled
By that who calls himself artist
For the work of song
Or painting
Is no less obvious a result
Of “artist” than flute or brush
Can ‘art’ say in earnest
That flute and brush
Don’t know their form?
Inanimate objects
Startled by an animator
Don’t know their own startling?
For perhaps animator
Of these “inanimate”
Is itself animated
By All That Is
05/07/22
Thoughts enter my mind
How could these be mine?
I don’t remember setting up their stream
But here I listen
More than listen! Here I act
On their behalf
Whose lobbed fruit
Are you?
Maybe
I can
Observe this
Fruit
Changing hands
Which are mine?
My desire crushes me
Who does this serve?
Who asks to be seen?
And holds will over heart
Me, I cry!
Who else can hear?
Me, I cry!
When all seems to pass
And fear pulls in your cheeks
Say to it:
Hello fear, how do you know these cheeks so well?
The force of fear feels ancient
And timeless- not me
But mine
Feeling pain
Is strange
My nails are bleeding
I now notice
The path here wasn’t obvious
Engulfed in mind
My sights became less clear
And heaviness sat atop me
My shoulders and chest pulling
Pointing to my hands writing
I wonder
Could it be because I bite me?
The space between bodily pain
And mental anxiety
Is the space given
To the heaviness atop me
For if I cease
To bite my nails
Then maybe a gentle
Mental clarity
Depth or breadth
Must we choose?
In two dimensions, yes
Can a mind perceive more?
Perhaps some. Or perhaps all.
With patience.
And curiosity, a thing
Questioning both things
And the nature of things
Usually during this time
A person is a closed container
We think we are the lid.
Forgetting what it may contain
is everything
what an interesting container
Its green tongues
Licking out from under
Sidewalk squares that
sit atop its back and leg.
It doesn’t know order.
And with time, its little sister,
creeping out from under,
sidewalk squares gone askew,
it smiles from asunder
to whisper
“There is no difference between us
in this perennial rejoinder”
My attention is pulled
Like putty;
what could that mean?
Attention is the funny thing
Determining my every-thing
Here it is now, with me
So we will watch thee
And learn
Silence
You uncharacteristic stranger
And characteristic mother
What is it
about quality
That lurking thing
experienced
Do we know it
When shivers go
down our spine?
Or do we know it
By a fluttering heart
Within romantic embrace?
Or do we know it
Right now?
And all words and ideas
A mere finger
Pointing to its moon
How interesting to ask
What is it
about quality
That lurking thing
Experienced
Cars driving by
Slicing leaves
How could I forget
You have told
Me always that
I’m a moment from
Death,
My crunchy leaves
Cars closing doors
My ears know you exactly
One punch of air
Out of nowhere
Followed by the engine
Experience is that funny thing
We all share
Yet forget it faster than death
(The other promise)
Can that which experiences
Contemplate that which does not?
Surely comprehension rests on
Itself
Which might not be real
So let’s laugh
And listen!
My body moves
Before I do
So why all the business of I
If it lags behind real behavior?
I notice what I does
After I do it
Who does this scare?
I suppose the same thing
What if there is another thing
Supposing I?
What could be more scary?
I wonder
The ticking sound
A kitchen timer!
Focaccia in the oven
Focaccia: do you know your master?
Not the hands who kneeded you
The master of those
Is not the human behind them
But this ticking sound
Pulling time into it
Somehow
Oily, browned, divine
Focaccia
Will surely result
Individual parts
Coming together
Creates a new whole
Just marvelous
Do these parts know
Their own participation?
I wonder
Of what whole am I a part?
And of what possible majesty is it?
Certainly I don’t seem a part
For I experience the whole of the other
Yet perhaps
Whole is holy as they say
Imbued with mysticism
That my part will never know
Marvelous
Concentric circles
I love you so
Your form surpasses mine
And from here I look to you
And wonder
What do you point to?
Temperature!
What business do you have affecting deliciousness?!
Who told me about the spot of time
And how to spot one
Cinderblocks peel away
And come back together when I’m afraid
A structure is here
That has known itself almost forever
Awareness of mind
Reveals this blocky nature
Or the blocky nature, when seen
Reveals awareness of mind
(That distinction could be mine)
Always there, but hidden!
About to be fearful,
I summon their assembly instructions
And quickly put them back together
Shortness and sweetness
Have you known one another forever?
Sometimes I have met you apart
And forgot that you love spending time together
What is it about a nose exhale
That carries so much information
Relief some say
But I still question
I push air through my nose
And listen
Sinking in to where I am
Relief, I no longer question
Thank god for the banging sound
For I would forgot time without you
Each smack of this hammer
Tells me another painful moment
Thank god for the banging sound
The thing my landlord does
Home is the thing with the banging sound
Smacking its hammer with this reminder
Thank god for the banging sound
It reminds me of my body
What is a poem
A joke I guess
Sometimes they aren’t funny
Or the thing about the thing with feathers?
Maybe some words that tickle like one up close
Truth laughing
With an invite
Blessings beside me
My dog can bow!
(With fish on her breath)
My wife and sister pet her
Jumping to their shoulders
She smiles
The tail gives away her secrets
And her lack of language complicates
A happy creature clearly
Blessings beside me
Practice makes perfect they say
But practicing moves the ledge of perfect, which I thought would stay
So practicing something changes form
But that’s not obvious to the forlorn
Repetition of behavior works its might
On some all the way through the night
A simple poem such as this piece
Rhyming twice, like someone’s young niece
Simple form can become quite deep
When repetition works its will, isn’t that neat
Practice makes perfect they say
Really, perfect makes practice
Ha!
What is it about a goal
That pulls my head to toe
A place where I am not today
But want to arrive and made ok
A mountaintop I can see
Yet when I start to climb thee
There was no mountain there at all
For my personhood endured the fall
So at the bottom of this mountain now dreamed
I look around and see what I could not before
A mountain is no different from me
I am a person with a goal
That thing that pulls my head to toe
What comes through me
I call I
But it can’t be mine
So whose hand holds me?
There is some space inside
I see my hands in front
And not behind
Could it be time?
No, that feels silly
For we’ve heard its tick gone by
Push and pull
It must know me
But it can’t be mine
So whose hand holds me?
What comes through me
I call I
The thing with feathers
Certainly isn’t me
The thing called me exists
Or doesn’t exist
But still without a feather
The soul is too large to be perched upon
For it lives eternally
Where large is yet too small
But love
Love is eternal
So join me and forget
The thing called hope
And love, smilingly
What is it
About a wave
A note is played
On nature’s breast
Or could it be Her breath?
She laughs!
Cannot be intervened upon
Or changed by human mind
What is it
About a wave
A prism does with light
What a poem does with words
A morning glow
The ball of fire exploding in the sky
All objects are made clear by it
And it is an object too
My inner nature also glows
Maybe it, too, explodes
The light inside and
The light outside
Do they share more than a name?
A gaze holds mine
This thing has a face
And breathes
Like me
I wonder who sent you
I say
Where did you come from?
I ask
This thing appears to wonder the same
About me
But won’t answer my questions
Immediately, yet
Nor I, its
Yet
It looks like an ancient being
Are you my guardian angel?
Woof!
Thought
Pay attention now
Before each thought there is a bow
In body, in back, in chest
A ripple takes leave from rest
And bang!
Now I am the person thinking
Writing them down!
This way and that way
And this is that
And this is not that
Thinking about the ripple
That was in my chest
So can attention be paid
Right before?
Music
Puts the horn in my chest
I understand dancing now
Says my chest
My attention called to all that is not this note
So what does this note have for me
My chest may know
The note suggests everything that is now
And everything that is not now
So why do I depend on the next note?
And why does my chest already know it?
An interesting difference, to be sure
Over time, or over notes, revealing time
We call that dancing
Says my chest
What am I supposed to do?
We are alive. If you read these words, it applies.
Supposed is funny for the blind.
I am is funny for the alive.
Doing is for those who are.
Who are? Who is?
You are. We are.
Question not the word.
Question the nature of all words.
Can we question without words?
Can we question without doing questioning?
Pointing to the doer words do.
So of course do these.
Make believe. Make pretend.
Do no making, and then don’t do that.
Ad infinitum.
So, laugh.
Supposed to question.
Supposed to believe.
Supposed to do.
Supposed to be.
The difference in these words?
Who’s asking?
You are. I am.
Alive!