New Year's Eve Afternoon

I wrote this poem on the afternoon of 12/31/2011 standing in my recently reseeded back yard in East Quogue


Looking at the just replanted
Half-grown lawn
I pleased myself
With the thought
That the only thing missing
Now is the weeds

There being fresh grown grass
And dog shit enough already
To approximate the usual
Midsummer scene

Only lacking are the crabgrass
And dandelions leaving
Me oddly forlorn with
The realization that weeds too
Play a vital role
In promoting a man's
Sense of well being
By defining tomorrow's
Task with a spade on
Hands and knees

A Journey Yet to Come

No matter how bad
The cell phone reception
In a particular part of town
You always want to stay
Connected to the clear blue sky
In an unmediated way
And if there ever should come
A moment where it appears
Things are going rapidly
The other way
A late afternoon squall
Blitzkriegs in from the south
Much better if you're not caught
Too far off shore when it hits
Or you just might end up
Blown far off course
Much further than you
Can even imagine possible

On the Afternoon Before Christmas

I wrote this poem 6 months ago or so and came across it today by chance. It strikes a chord with my mood this afternoon so I have decided to post it to the blog in lieu of words more contemporaneous. It was the afternoon before Christmas and I was home by myself, the dogs were both snoring, one on a chair and the other on the couch.

* * * * * * * * *

That it’s worth doing well

Doesn’t mean it’s worth doing

If no one else will ever know

Or care or tell

Unless you feel compelled

The way a swan plays the trumpet

As if it’s a necessary part of what

Or who you are and what

You have to keep doing

To stay alive

That’s what poetry

Has to become

Your daily meditation

And prayer

You don’t need a license

But it does take

Constant practice

So you can close your eyes

And pluck the truth directly

Out of thin air

To Dream Perchance to Write

This is a poem I wrote in my sleep on 12/19/2011, the night before I got fired from my job. I've tried not to change too much from what I first wrote down after waking up. One thing a little odd about the composition of this poem is that I woke up, wrote a line, went back to sleep, woke up and wrote another line, and so on four separate times. So if the poem reads a bit disjointedly, you now know the reason why


With or without
Careful adherence
To everyday
Appearances

By some method
Both proper and good
And by reality
Dispossessed

Whichever way you like
Or back and forth
If you can't decide
Already drenched in sweat
But trying harder even yet

Head over heels
Down the pathway
We tumble
Making progress
At minimal expense
A thing in itself
Neither good nor bad
While prone to something
Completely different besides

About Animal Co-Dependency

Almost everything
I needed to know
About my own addiction
I learned from Guston
The one eyed cat

Who developed
A pretty bad
Drug habit himself
Just from sitting
On my lap

You see
That’s how he became
Hooked on weed
And seemed to lose interest
In most other stuff

Whenever he saw me
Pull out my pipe
For a puff
He’d take a running leap
And soon enough

From the glassy look
In his one good eye
I knew it was time for me
To think about
Straightening up

Gan Yu - II

A Poem About Meaning

I don’t speak as
One officially trained
Or accredited by a school
Of higher learning
I have labored
With help here and there
From a few intensely wise friends
Followed by much
Dogged self-study

Poured over the dictionary
In point of fact
That proving
A most helpful way to learn
Through long steady gaze
At its handsomely bound pages
Only then did the patterns within
Begin to emerge

How meanings leap about
Whether by sound or sign
Or by means compounded
The mind thrives by
Such diversity
At each point
In the path
We notice
A potential
Divergent
Branch

Or as opposites
Meanings continuously
Attract one another
From shelter to
Abandonment
It takes nary but
A slightly different
Shape of the tongue