A Second Go At It

I wrote this poem a few days ago and then I wrote it again last night from scratch. Hence the title.

And so
Like many a
Middle-aged man
Before me
I have fallen into
The bad habit
Of comparing
My life to my father's
In various ways

Such as the ratio
Of opportunities lost
To regrets encountered
Along the way

How at the same
Stage in life
He too found himself
Unmoored and unsure
What to do with
Whatever years
Remained

But if the world
Is a sea upon
Which each of us
Journeys
My father relished
The part of Magellan
So many times he circled
The globe but to what end
I wonder other than
To expand his passport
Accordion style

Whereas
I'm much more
At home here
In the garden
Circumscribed
By the lattice fence
And privet hedge

The earth's hold on me
Is undiminished
Grubworms and all
Immersed in the study
Of all these befores
And I can only hope
A few more
Hereafters

Spring Three Times Sprung

-->

Spring this year

Has come much

Like every other

Except this time

As I’ve newly joined

The ranks of the

Unemployed

Unrushed I’ve been able

To savor its blessings

On three separate

Occasions

First in Denver

With my brother

At the very edge

Of the Great Plains

Where we biked along the Platte

I saw the Aspin bark quiver

A quickening of the spirit

At the mere thought

Of sap beginning to rise

And then walking

With Marissa on Easter Sunday

We beheld the rapture of

The Viburnum wood

Coming again to the Hi-Line

With thick pink clusters that ran

The full length of each tree’s spine

Extending to its outermost limbs

The very living and

Visual proof of the

Virulence of life

And now this evening

On a slow sunset ramble

I’ve traced spring’s lineaments

Along Fourth Neck where

Forsythia and cherry blossoms

Adorn every other front yard

To the early evening bird belongs

This most wonderful of scenes

As the stalks of asparagus

Make their first upthrust and glimmering

And the Star Magnolia blossoms are

Splayed across my neighbor’s front lawn

With Summer may come

Long dry spells and assorted

Other disorders but

So far this is shaping up

To be one hell of a great

Growing season

April has but barely begun

And already this Spring

Three times has sprung

* * * * * * * * *

This is a picture Marissa took with her iPhone while we were walking on the Hi-Line. I think it's a viburnum tree, or so I refer to it in the third stanza.

A Ralph Waldo Moment, Please

And what of my own
Ralph Waldo Emerson
As Jason had advised
Every aspiring Whitman
Should pursue

I'd like to know this
For myself
It being the subject
Of a long-running
Self-discourse
Where and when
May come the moment
Of discovery
Or will it be a moment
Forever adjourned

So today it seems
First by Gene and then Vikram
Once again spurned
Making me zero for how many
Hundreds of times at bat

And now as this game
Heads into the mid-late innings
It's increasingly hard
Not to come off as over-eager
Swinging for the fences
Ever chance I get

And even worse
I'm afraid of
Losing the timing
Of my natural swing

The Producer Credit

Today at lunch

Michel and I debated

Who deserves credit

As producer for

The Life and Times

Of Richard Musto

And I say it’s got to be

Richard himself

Because that’s the very meaning

Of life being fully lived

At the same time

Michel and I

Have drawn the assignment

To tell his life’s story

In pictures and words

But that’s the subject

Of a much more

Elaborate verse

The Rhyme Forsaken

It's all about
The rhyme forsaken
The syncopation
The back beat

If you want
To be a jazz poet
You've got to step lively
Stand high on your heels
And stay loose
In your knees

On Detachment

Sometimes I wonder

If you can get too

Detached like a retina

So it fucks up your vision

Ending in blindness

But usually

And thankfully

It seems to work

The other way around

Detachment leads

To greater clarity

No matter if your vision

Is completely unsound

iCloud

Today Apple did something to fuck up its iPhone users. I was talking with my friend Greg on the street corner when he said the following words to me. I am including this as part of my April quota of 30 poems, but I am only counting it as half a poem for me, since the words were Greg's originally, and my contribution was to notice and write them down - not an inconsiderable thing but surely not worthy of full credit for an entire poem....even one of such incredible caliber.


iCloud

iCloud
I tried
I don't have anything now