Sunday, July 29, 2012


It was just such a sensation that the president spoke of
on television.
It was not the feeling that comes from the blush of
a bruised finger.
It was not the empathy I felt for the president as he
paused and said "excuse me," like he had lost his
train of thought.

With a key I washed my face in a bright blue hydrant
and brushed my teeth in a park drinking fountain.
Maybe it is like forgetting the name of an actor, where
I will wait for a clue, a pantomime, a cue.

In the middle of the city there is an orchard of apple trees.
I began to pluck one when another fell. I was left motionless,
arm extended.  What I felt reminded me of what the president
was trying to say. I feel close to the president for his having
said that.

There is a curvature to language in just such a way
 as it may appear that we stand on flat land.
Just such a way as the immensity of thought continues
to roll towards us,  rising in such brightness.
Here comes the sun. Right?

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Questions Regarding Lost and Found

All of this is ending, right here, now. We are seeing ourselves seeing ourselves in others.

In line at the lost and found people chatted with each other. It was a long line that didn't seem to be moving. In front three people took turns speaking to the woman in the window.The rest of us watched, as they took multiple turns expressing themselves. After a while it was clear to many of us that they had not been satisfied. Disappointment was followed by forgetfulness and a return to the window seeking what appeared to be lost. I saw myself finally at the window. Over my shoulder the line still reached the door. Now there were two people in front of me that I had gotten to know while we waited. We all agreed we would not hold up the line with endless returning, returns that seemed to bring fresh questions. Now I faced the woman in the window as the man who had just inquired stepped behind me.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.

Sunday, July 08, 2012

Water Hazard

The view screen seems to supply the ground 
for a ball that hangs there much too long.

Somewhere in a fairway, collar up,
you look up, check the distance while
forgetting where you are standing.
There are no bridges over hazards,
only the determination to project
a vision that when acted out
will produce clearance.

Extraneous factors,
like the wind, 
a song in a tree, or
like the tree itself,
where the song softly
rains down on you,
can go unnoticed if you
keep your head down
and follow through.
You are in a moment
of your own making,
aren't you?
But once you strike,
once you set it in
motion, hands unimagined
come into play.
The flight will be
predictable, and
possibly not true.

There is a pause,
right there where
you are watching.
Ahead in the distance
lies the embedded
dark pool of water.
Do you remember?
You created it
for yourself.

Saturday, July 07, 2012

In the Heart of the Country of Closed Palms

She decides to turn left.
The oncoming car never slows
It's that close.
What are we,  I wonder,
Guided by voices, wires,
Devices, maybe cunning,
Here in the age of forgiving/unforgiving?

They say a door of a Saturn is forgiving
While glass protects a Toltec bowl
From itself.

Buildings fall, statements flutter
And still
We are like two people riding
The back of an ass.
One of us has got to go.
Even as the spikey branches fall,
And people wave in recognition.
Even as we wave back,
One of us must go.

But it's not very far now
Why not pass the time
In idle conversation
Your head resting
Against my back,
Your heart beating
Behind mine.

Thursday, July 05, 2012


I can't judge blueness or
a ring of air on a stone
finger.  Everything we
know is in the ring. Nothing
we know is in the ring.
I break open a walnut
with an ornate silver
cracker. Inside is a tree
that I can eat. Does the
creative occur upon breaking
or is it in joining?
Two tigers chase each other
around a palm tree until
they become butter. Still
I can eat this. The smallest
thing I know is a thought.
But then it sleeps and I
can't be certain. Where is
something I read? Principles
come together. Rain falls
into leaves and becomes
applause. I forget something
and push my way back
down the escalator. All the
while there is still rising.
Where is that first moment
for me? It is not anywhere
and yet I keep showing up