static wonder

The mind perceives
a beautiful object
and pauses
with wonder
because the body
is unsure whether
to embrace it
or flee.

shadow

the bath

Today I had
so much stress
in my body
that when I got in the bath
my hands immediately wrinkled
into a thousand little folds.

Later
when I tried to worry
I daydreamed.

for sasha on her birthday

Two persons
looking at the moon
trace an arc
over the globe.

I drew two arcs
tonight,
thinking of a man
and of a woman.

She, I find in sleep;
a small crease
hidden in the curve
of her shoulder,
hiding, a pearl.

He, once,
I watched sleeping:
white legs are pillars--
more moons?
stacked high
under the blanket.

meal

The snow's going away
and now it's time for great things
to be made.
I spent all day
chopping the carrots
and potatoes, into tiny pieces,
because I decided to begin
with this meal.

objects

Noise and rhymes are now two different things.
We study the first with rulers and tools
drawing equatorial rings
and putting them into insurance pools.

The second we already mastered
with the same instruments
made of papier-mache and plaster.

air

The rain falls
In metal balls
Atomic drops
And cooing clocks
Melt the air
And make us scare
The ground is brown
I watch you drown
Killing love
A peaceful dove
In steel planes
With smokey trains
Bombed the city
Flying pretty

meditation

Gone are the days when
everything seems old.
I now feel new
and uncomfortable.
Still not recognizing—refusing
to recognize—this body of mine.
But also having exhausted
everything I could find
inside. I am aged
and cannot but feel real pain
in my fingers and in my arms.
How foolish was I to think
that my insides would have lasted me
to infinity!
What I should have known
is that I need these limbs,
even rotting and unhealthy,
in order to hope for anything eternal.

the day goes

The yarn bends.

I follow it to get back
home;
Because the day contains
multitudes.

**

(this one was from last fall)

ends

Sometimes I walk
between two brick buildings
an easy path
of numbered steps
when usually I don't think
of my steps
today I thought of each one
looking down
to follow the grey stone
in the brick that seems to make
a straight line going
where I'm going.

On this stone
I've thought my straight steps
before they've been taken
and moving slowly
I can fall
off the beam
into the sky below.

And sometimes
in the attic
I think still
sitting on your white couch
if the floor fell out
would my face flinch?

i do what i do

I still want to be great
And a year goes by
Figuring out what that means
Is hard and I think takes me
In the wrong directions
To investigate my mediated senses, the world,
Or learn inward archiving
Only those thoughts that move and form
Like the one I have of every triangle
With these three foundations how does use match up to greatness?
And even raw capability—
If that is greatness,
By another name—
I think I sense
But I do not understand.
Wanting to reject measure, others’ measure,
I can’t seem to find my own.