There is nothing like
a bathroom window
where you can sit comfortably
and watch the snow
piling up on the branches
of the barren trees
in your yard;
I once met the people
who invented thermopane;
thanks, guys! it looks
really cold out there,
I think I’ll bake
some cookies.

I went looking
for my mother's grave;
it took me two weeks to find it,
and when I did, I was standing
on it; I actually looked around
to see if anyone else saw
what I had just done

things which came to mind
when I read your poem,
I have been able to
flesh out with imaginative
reality, wrestling your
dilemmas to the floor
and pinning them there
while the poetic referee
pounded the mat, shouting,
and counting to three,
the match is over now,
and you can be free

-----------------
-----------------
-----------------
----- me ------
-----------------
-----------------
-----------------

just in case
you have been waiting,
someday never comes,
it’s always now,
it never changes
from that, so stop
saying it, someday
I’m going to do
this or that,
someday never comes

from Mary Oliver

“Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.”

fog dampens
the irritation
of a barking dog,
that's what I like
about fog

when I encountered you,
you didn't know to jump to the next line,
you just stood there, and
asked me if I was for real,
I am, and before,
I only had a small
perception of what
I was doing

I was afraid to go
to sleep last night,
because the two girls
in my dreams might meet,
Tatterina and Hugdalena,
so I sat up late,
drank wine, and
wrote this poem.

I want to slip easily
into tomorrow, no
jolting by noisy
garbage trucks, no
disrespectful distribution
of confusion, no snurgling
confusion of words,
as if

On a tranquil sea, I float,
upon a cloud;
streaming from my mind
are many flowers,
lilies I lay gently
in array, upon the water.
The wind arranges them
in pleasing patterns,
but then, the wind
grows stronger,
and stirs the water
and the flowers
begin to sink.
I reach desperately
for the ones nearest to me
and fall from the cloud,
helplessly into the sea.
Struggling to stay afloat
I sink beneath the waves,
and there, I am floating
with the sunken flowers,
only now there is no surface
I must remain upon

You would not believe
how strong my fingernails
have gotten, I can gouge walls,
tear through flesh,
and flick incredible distances
all while laughing

I got my new hearing aids
today. What? You didn't know
that I was just nodding
to be nice, but I really didn't hear
anything you said. Everything
will be different now. You won't
get away with all that **** anymore!
What?

You can listen
to the news,
you can express
your views,
you can point your toes
when you dance,
but the future, my friend
will unroll like a scroll
and there won’t be
a thing there by chance.

There are things
that you hear,
there are things
that you fear,
there are demons
inhabiting dreams;
but events that unfold,
or so I’ve been told,
are not the results
of man’s schemes.

So retire your talk
and just go for a walk,
look up at the stars overhead,
and be thankful that you
have no claim on the view,
and then, laugh, be happy,
go to bed.

words properly spoken
do not need to be strewn
all over the page
as if it were
a work of art,
let the artists
paint their pictures
while we poets
put our words
one after another,
line upon line,
hoping to be heard

I drive my head into
the buttress of Inko
to prove the truth;
it makes no sense
to you or me, we are
programmed to survive,
we make up words, ignoring
obvious cautions, and
delve, we delve

I want to share
my favorite poem,
but I cannot find it,
I have forgotten its name
and I am hoping
that saying all this
will bring it back
to me, but I am having
a preview of dementia,
and it is making me laugh

I hear your cries
from far away, your
needs are not unusual
in any way, you rant
and rave and pretend
to propound, but seriously
is your mind still sound?
No worry. Be happy. An
old prophet sang, for you
and for me, and for all
who need to be found.

You may ask yourself, ‘why is there carpet in the bathroom,’ but it will only be a detail in the description of where you are. The bigger question is why? Did you come here for solace and not find it? Were you anticipating a differentiation from your drab routine? Well, you got that, but there are things you weren’t counting on, aren’t there?

Love is always a risk;
once you give it away
you cannot be sure
if it will return.

Some will wear it
as an ornament,
posing, seeing only
how nice they look in it;

Some will reach out
and ****** it skillfully
from the air,
and throw it to the ground,
and laugh at your weakness;

Some will demean it
and call it a farce,
holding you accountable
for every act of transgression
before it;

Some, not knowing what it is,
will toss it, and play with it
until they tire of it
and then leave it behind
like a toy;

But where love is greatly valued,
it will be carried, carefully,
and placed upon an altar
of thanksgiving,
and reverenced;

And the author of love
will receive it,
and return it
in such great abundance,
it will overflow its course
and wash everywhere,
making debris of the
hard-hearted
and foolish.

I sat up all night
by the pool of sleep
stirring the water
with my toes,
but didn’t slip in;
you floated easily
beside me,
a couple
singing harmonies
behind an open door,
inspiring the curiosity
of children.

I keep Hello Poetry
at the bottom of my page
so that when I need to
descend into language
I stop gesticulating
in such awkward
maneuvers, and
start to think

Chicago alley
fire escape
mournful sax

(for erin and Kalliope)

I'm swimming alone in the river of time
Do rondy rondy rondy, do rondy rhyme,
Remember me as the one who swims here,
It's par, silly sage, nose buryin' time.

I must keep swimming to keep my nose even
With a point on the shore that I think must be mine,
I swim and I swim, and I never stop swimming,
Staying abreast of that arbitrary line.

When I swim over towards it, I start drifting back,
It never gets closer when I swim the oblique,
I turn back and swim harder against the strong current
No closer but even with the shoreline I seek.

I want to turn over and float on my back
And drift idly down, feet first in the stream
With my hands intertwined 'neath my head as I aimlessly
Seek circumstances that are more serene.

With my toes I could point and turn this way and that
Watching cloud pictures pass in the heavenly blue.
But wait! There is something I remember from stories
Of a waterfall somewhere. I think that it's true.

The waterfall stories are full of destruction,
Mangled bodies all broken on sharp rocks below,
So, I swim and I swim and I just keep on swimming,
There is nothing else. I have nowhere to go.

I pull at the water, do breaststroke and crawl and
Dog paddle when I'm tired. How I wish I could fly!
I seldom look over at the shore anymore,
It discourages me so much I just want to cry.

I used to swim as fast as I could
But then I would falter, lose all that I gained,
I now take it easy, I know my own limits,
I don't swim with my body, I swim with my brain!

A friend of mine used to swim with me and tell me
She loved me and wanted to always be there,
To challenge, encourage me, touch me and feel me
Splashing ahead with the burdens we'd bear.

But now she's veered off and she swims at a distance;
I can see her struggling like me, even more.
I'm trying to help but I know I can't reach her
Any more than I can reach that far away shore.

Look around! There are so many boats in the water,
I've been in a few but I've always leapt free
When with sad revelation I've found that their heading
Wasn't anywhere near to the port of "point me"

Ah, who's afraid of those waterfalls anyway,
Maybe, like rollercoasters, they're thrilling I'll bet.
We just fear them, avoid them and make up the stories
Because we have never been over one yet.

It's not easy to keep this stuff dry while I'm swimming,
I can't record anymore in the water, as such.
Would somebody please just hand me some goggles,
My eyes hurt from laughing and crying so much.

I think you are
my last known
viable human
on this network,
if not this planet;
ordinarity has been
displaced with disparity
and a reaching
for a handhold
in the confusion,
are you here now?
I promise not
to disappear into
my illusionary state
if you promise not
to disclose my location

if you must
just go slide
down that slide
behind you, and
we'll tell the tourguide
you weren't really
there, but if you like
you can choose
this silly aside
and be happy
for no reason
other than to comply

in times when joy seems
furthest from your mind,
you guffaw the concept
and refuse to climb,
but your friends remind
you of us, all of us, you,
me, and our friends,
don't get left behind,
we're struggling upward
with no immediate goal,
we need you with us
and you are there

Have you ever heard
a parking lot bird
rejoice in the sun?
No, parking lot birds
don’t have much fun,
constantly busy
looking for scraps
that aren’t really there,
they stare at the
undersides of cars,
they peck at nothing
there’s no food there,
no plants, few bugs,
they ought to be
full of despair,
but a parking lot bird
never complains,
and sings as if
he hasn’t a care.

They fly under cars
looking for crumbs
from hungry bums
who eat their meals
behind steering wheels,
then open the door
and brush their laps
and parking lot birds
grab up the scraps.

Have you ever heard
of a parking lot bird
being struck by a car?
No, by far, they boast
the most incredibly skilled
virtual acrobatics
of low-flying flight,
they flit and alight
and never are killed,
none are hurt,
they all fly free,
when you crank up
your trusty Subaru
they always manage
to get away from you.

A parking lot bird
hasn’t much to hope for,
lost from his woods
and full of woe, he
just has nowhere else to go;
they grew up under
the big marquees
of some of the finest
groceries, and
they just keep singing,
never complaining,
hoping one day
you’ll bring them a scrap,
a morsel, a tidbit
a crumb or two,
leave it on purpose,
it’ll be good of you.

there are things you were counting on,
out there, weren't there,
things you thought that you knew,
things that were not there,
are not there, never were there,
things that just would not do,
so you turn up the volume,
invent you some things,
things that you'd like to be true
and you conjure, and pause,
and give cause to the clause
that says anything goes; it is true

a triscuit, a triscuit
a green and yellow biscuit
I went to town
to see my shrink
and on the way
I lost it.

I like the girls
at the pizza place,
even though they're
not very feminine,
arguing with the cooks,
exchanging insults
with the dishwashers.
Still, they're good to me
and understand.
The waitress said,
wiping her hands
on her flowered apron,
I'd take you home with me."
And even though
she didn't really mean it,
still, it was a nice
thing to say.
I saw you at our ten year
reunion
with that big-mouth
you married
and I tried to be
friendly
but it was hard
with him there.
I hadn't seen you
since the party
when you rode out
of my life
on his back,
him prancing into
the bedroom and
closing the door,
you laughing.
You were so beautiful
that night, though
not very feminine,
drunk and riding piggyback.
I waited until
the party was over
but you never came out.
I told the pizza girls
how much I wanted to tell you
"I love you," but couldn't
with big-mouth there.
They gave me a free cannoli.
They're nice,
but not very
feminine.

I live in the house of peace
where softness reigns, where
the news is watched but easily
ignored, were not stupid, here,
we just choose a different path
where all things don't collide,
and there is a buffer zone
and foam rubber reigns
and we are all trained to
subtly reject all incoming missiles
and fill the world with songs
and what else, whistles

I am at the side door;
I tried the latch,
but it is locked.
Around in front
others are coming
and going;
I can hear the commotion
of their greetings
and partings,
and I am thinking of
walking around
and participating;
but it is peaceful at
the side door,
and I know if I wait,
that eventually
you will come around
and let me in
and we will be
alone,
together.

I do not want
a single wish granted,
  because if it is
   I will not have
    this exquisite longing
     in my heart
      for you.
It supplies me with
foolish and wonderful dreams,
  life-giving and death-defying hope,
   hearty laughter
    and childlike vision,
      the plotting of courses
       to distant, unreachable
        shores.
I do not want you
to say yes to me,
  and replace these things
   with the difficult drama
    of mundane reality,
     familiarity,
      with all her
       boisterous children.
No pessimist, I, no fatalist,
no hopeless, gutless,
  whining quitter, I bound
   up the stairway of hope
    three steps at a time
     the longing in my heart
      for your love
       invigorating
        my soul.
Remain aloof, and inaccessible,
and let me dream
   my impossible dreams.

my mind, my mind
is afire with artful
creations of words
and my heart is aflutter
with the anticipation
of usefullness,
the idea of mutual perception,
the hope of any modicum
of reminiscence,
the wish of forgiveness,
the happy distrust of memory

I know how to make yogurt
and kefir and sauerkraut and
pickles, but I have forgotten
how to make love, maybe
you could show me again

look at your clock
and believe it won’t lie,
while others, on the other
side of the world will sigh,
and side with me, I have
recruited them all,
don’t you see, they were all
weary, and forlorn, until I
showed up, with my
happy, my cheer
and my freaking
good luck; so hear
me out, I’ve had
enough psychedelics
for a really good bout
and I won’t shut up
and I won’t (fill in the blank)

everything is shipshape
around here, a place for
everything, and everything
in its place, there is a softening
layer of snow accumulating amid
the falling temperatures, and the
tempest is at rest, there is wood
in the woodstove, and dinner
on the stove; of course, everything
could change dramatically in a
moment, but not likely under a
blanket of snow in the West Virginia
hills, where constancy is preserved
and treasured just for the sake
of everything else.

with them I used to see,
now mere images come
to me, in abstract sometimes,
more substantial when I
am staring you right in the face
here I can only suppose

I await, faithful poets
with upturned face
for a little debris
from outer space
to fall and land
in just the right place
about noon this coming Monday;

please pray, faithful poets
along with me
for this unlikely event
because it really could be;
we’d be shocked for sure
but secretly,
our mourning hearts
would be full of glee;

(now sing the chorus along with me)

Space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready,
Oh, space debris, don’t fall on me,
I’m really not quite ready.

it don't matter whether I click on you or not, I promise to never, ever be your bot, and promise you words with sincere application, and never surrender to mere duplication, except when I'm winging my supplication I'll try to hold true

Because you are so busy
with the way I ought to be,
measuring me up against
that standard constantly,
you haven't taken time to get
up close and try to see
just who it is I really am
and what I want to be.

There are 2341 chords
you can play on a guitar,
sometimes, I feel like
everyone is just playing
their personal chord,
maybe if we all just
concentrated on the
usual ones, we could
actually get musical

The wind comes along
and cools your body
and lifts your spirits
and softens your day,
and pushes you gently
in a certain direction,
or blows so hard
you must stay wide awake;
and on those days
when it’s hot and still,
you want the wind to cool you,
don't you, and at those times
when you’re all alone,
you want the wind for comfort;
and on those days
when you’re not quite sure
and you want to see
clouds hurrying by,
you want the wind
to show you where
your heart must go,
but you cannot have it,
it comes when it wants
and it blows where it will,
it belongs to another,
one greater than you.

I asked this question of a one armed man,
“Can you plant a seed and make it grow?”
He said, “I really do not think I can.”

The same I asked of another one armed man,
He said he could but half-heartedly did sow;
He never finished with his plan.

The third bragged heartily but never began;
He talked a lot of all the things he’d put in every row,
But in the end, he ran.

The fourth realized it as a good thing to do, and
When he tried, what do you know?
He succeeded and became a better man.

The time in anyone’s life is not a prohibitive span,
To try out things that challenge you to grow;
Be brave, and try to do all the things you can,
And don’t be discouraged when you have to change the plan.

you have it right there
in front of you
in your double sink,
you've got the greasy side
where you toss the stuff
in your life that you are
done with, and needs cleaning,
and then you've got the soapy side
where there is real power
in the grease cutting aspects
of your ambition,
your desire, your dreams,
now where did they come from?
Grab a rag!

Don't look up,
because if you divert
your attention
you will be blindsided
with more misery;
keep a steady eye
on the goal and
trudge forward,
your prayers
have already
been heard

there isn't much
time left, the
round things
are all rolling
down the hill

I've only just discovered
that I have latent inert
potential merely by
not acting on my
initial instincts, and
using my mind, but
discovering my fingers
and allowing them their
full potential. . .hence
a;lskjf;alskdjf;allsdkjf'ksljf,
ain't it beautiful??

████ when █ ██████ feeling,
██████ a ██ ███ ██████ reeling,
and ██████ in a ██████ today,
I ██████ ███ or ██████ to say.