Thursday, December 14, 2017

West Wind


Now is the time to discover the wind,
on the way back.
If you can't feel it blowing,
it's behind you,
which is where we left home.
Sometimes it's difficult to go,
and sometimes it's hard to return.

December 14 2017

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Journey


Beginning a heartsick journey by pulling
undulating grasslands from the pool of memory and love
where we stood once, taller. Things made sense
but as you might expect, that's gone today
and a restaurant laid out its parking lot like a menu
to tempt all comers in.
What pain? Few medications would do the job I'd like.
Have you stood on the edge of unremembered plains?

It is morning.
Darkness stands at the bedside, waiting. God
spoke to you last night but you were asleep,
and now you're on your own. Face up to the shower, let it wash
if nothing more, at least you.
What broadens in the dawn is thinking, but
not thinking is the consummate.

The musculature of humanity is intimately connective,
tendons entangled and fleshed in indelicacy.
but pangs are instantaneous and gone,
happiness grokked in the moment of a glimpse:
brown overcoat at the other end of an afternoon street
shot by slanting sunlight. The terror of an absolutely
comprehended moment. It's a distraction,
but one I'd rather have than to see my all in longing sameness.

Once you liked brass. let it play, full face on to the horns in heat
and sunlight. What a blast; could you be any nearer to the heart
and beat of all of that? No; walk on, satisfied, even thrilled,
to the next adventure, full of happiness and cash. Later we'll eat
in an odd place where divers entertain. Last night I thought about
what you said, and I agree: Airplanes are desirable in a tedious place.

They were hijacking phone numbers all over the place last night.
I thought you were my friend, repeatedly.

You have not been here before; I understand it now.
But you have. If you are the one, tell the others, please.

December 13 2017

The Mills


Grinding. The power of Intel
twin core processors lets you redefine reality. Meanwhile,
where the unelectable giants don't see, enormous patience
regards the war with just a hint,
just a hint,
just a hint,
just a hint
of irritation. There are almost never words.
It was a roaring: Jeep owners told you
you wouldn’t understand, and you believed,
so you are not present in a subtle place.
There's the placeholder at the table
where you should have sat, but because you found the perfect escape
from monotony, you are behind the screen
when the show comes on again.
So many people, so many joys,
but hardly any are foam in the dazzling brook
where the water pours into itself and there is no thought
of any other way to be. It is the animal eyes, whose true message
is lack of understanding and present concern for food and safety.
I need a lifeline too. Can you share this worry?
It's a challenge, especially when the carnage dogs come back again
with empty faces when they lunge. All too often,
you stare: Much longer? Je ne sais pas. God, to be French again.
I remember William the Conqueror, and how he laughed
when his job was done. What a lark, to set foot on new soil.
As if no one would ever know--but think about the people who will
see you in their past. Too late, the chance is gone.

I am thrilled as a peach to send you this news from Patagonia:
There is no war here, only wind, and the nearness of world's end.
Wish you were here. Can this be anything but the truth?
Nothing bolder holds the candle up
to a lying mirror for the see-through revelation.
Try not to flinch.
This is nothing you could have known about
except that you are complicit.

We are simply running away from freedom before it runs away from us.

December 13 2017

Monday, December 11, 2017

About 1978


The slow ballet of glasses in the air
was at New Year's,
over some too many.
That's a college night, if ever,
but the friendship's my remember,
dancing as if nothing,
before it all said sad good night.

December 11 2017