What All

or, real as a
boulder clutched by five
hundred-year-old roots
in the fluid of a mountain’s
gradual crest

or, our own
skeletons remain
clutched by continuity
in the fluid of a moment’s
gradual assumption

assume rise
crest fall, and
what all

Clueful

Debate

A conflict settled
by debate, away
will rise in appeal
some other day.

A Hybrid of Life and Death

The disease will not settle
for medicine, nor will the
remedy quarter the disease
doctor bills, they are piling up
a shot of whiskey, please.

Continuance

Things appear
to die, and I appear
to keep living
the welders are in dry dock
assembling the hulls
of sunken ships
at what point in the
figure eight of continuance
can one say end, or begin
at all points
amazing, how gracious
how sweet it is.

Clueful

I’m feeling clueful
today, little hints peeking
out from under bushes
the neighborhood jingling
like a phone full of urgent texts
bits of the crux of all matters
sparkling here and there
like gems tossed out
over beach sand.

Epitaph

Long in the hair and
gray in the tooth
he learned how to dodder
then he died, forsooth.

Pray (sol dep)

In the six regions
throughout the three times
under the one sky
peaceful, happy.


An incoherent notebook-dump from October 2018

Folly

the folly of humanity
can be summed up
in about a dozen words

but we’d probably come to blows
trying to agree which ones

people who say it’s
all just fucked—they’re not
wrong exactly, there’s an angle
that sheds a good light on
just about anything

it shouldn’t cost
so much, what we seem to
forfeit, to be able to laugh
it up (in the face of mortality)
and still honor the sanctity
of so many beating hearts

but it does, and we’re
already below the grade in unpaid
bills, afraid for what we have to lose
bad wiring in our calculations
crossed purposes in the DNA
of everything that was born
to believe its own eyes

try to say, ‘it’s love, just love’
over the thriving chorus of
‘yeah, buts,’—you can feel it
but you can’t even hear
yourself think it

and you find yourself saying
yeah, but     yourself

Damn Smart Hamster

Dizzy on the roundabout
We busy bodies raise a cheer
Tomorrow always comes, but never
Comes precisely in the way
We thought it would, now let us pray

When the next thing beckons
Say you wait a tick, hold on
The thing that came before has yet
Been done, or even well begun
So up again and at it, son

This time it won’t be at all
Like all the other times
You’ll see, the glory’s mine
Before I die I’ll make my mark
Get on it soon, the falling dark

Too much on your hands this
Stuff, this passing thing
This time, this beating wing
Not enough at hand, but wait
More coming, knocking at the gate

Footfall one upon the other
Look about, what do you see
No minister of fate, a
Damn smart hamster on a wheel
Keep it spinning, that’s the deal

Damn Smart Hamster first appeared in this blog on September 4th, 2016.

Shoe Leather

Breathe us | fragile lives
Scholars of immortality
Shoe leather knows
A thing or two about walking

For each | a day bubbles
Up Like a fountain of youth
Under the climbing sun’s
Ambling summons

How did Shakespeare
Put it | whilst this machine
Is to him | cuffed
By law to this

Holding cell of
Flesh | straight jacket
Of bodily sensation
Interrogated there | outpaced
By thoughts