Thursday, December 31, 2020
YOU CANNOT SAY
NOT
Wednesday, December 30, 2020
WHAT CAN WE LEARN
THE WIND
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
THE LAMP
The lamp
within the stone,
like a star's
particles
flying at us,
light
we notice
or don't as
we go on
looking
at the surface
of things.
WINTER
Monday, December 28, 2020
THE CEDAR / IN THE WINDOW
The cedar
in the window
is somehow
changed by
my seeing it.
I am
somehow
changed by
its being there.
Neither of us
speaks
of this
in ordinary
moments.
ENTER THE DARKNESS
Enter the darkness
while light is still leaving
the day. As the cheap
sparrows find their place
to rest, lie down too
into some comfort,
sure in the promise
another day comes.
Sunday, December 27, 2020
SHADOW
CHRISTMAS
Saturday, December 26, 2020
YOU WILL SEE
You will see
I seldom
use the word
"plastic"
in my poems.
That's because
poetry
and plastic
don't often
overlap.
IF THE WIND
If the wind
has bones
in the night
the morning
light will break
them and what
we think is
song will be
a secret
the birds
are keeping.
Friday, December 25, 2020
THE GEESE
The geese
are only
shadows this
Christmas
morning, bare
trees waving
them good-bye,
their sound
a distant
silence.
TO SUCCEED
To succeed
a poem must
wrestle something
and win. It may
not always tell you
what it wrestled
and may never
say what it won.
Thursday, December 24, 2020
THE LANGUAGE I UNDERSTAND
The language
I understand
is a growl
which needs no
subjunctive,
no future
pluperfect,
no tense past
or progressive,
only the Hear me,
Hear me syntax
of this moment.
I WANT TO WRITE
I want to write about
as much of nothing
as I can fit in --
which is not much with
only five small lines.
Wednesday, December 23, 2020
THE EARTH
The earth doesn't care
if you believe
in climate change.
It doesn't care
if you resist,
or if you don't.
This is a system
which grinds
exceedingly fine.
Even as it flies
towards the last,
great reckoning
it grinds
exceedingly fine
and doesn't care.
SKATING THE FLOYD
Tuesday, December 22, 2020
EVERY NIGHT
Every night
you sleep
and enter
that other
world. There's
no telling
ahead of
time where
you get to.
Then, all night,
you spend your
dreams looking
for a way back
home. And you
don't always
recognize it
when you wake.
That's the sad
part. It has
always been there,
all around you.
SO THIS IS LOSS
So this is loss,
something gathered
in the corner
like darkness, tender
as a bruise. She
did not choose this
and she is ready
to say Enough.
Enough, she says,
and she does
what she has to.
Monday, December 21, 2020
IF NOT FOR STARS
If not for stars
we're then not us.
We come from things
we cannot know
brazed in eternity's
cauldron. We come
from a loss which
has heated, cooled.
We were fired in
the burnt heart of God
when those words were said,
Let there be light.
A NET
Sunday, December 20, 2020
THOSE LANGUAGES
I don't know them,
those languages,
only the sound
of them, not
the meaning of
words, but sound --
Russian, Dutch,
Korean. Does
the ear know more
than the mind
can handle?
WHAT MAKES
Saturday, December 19, 2020
AT THE FAR END
DARK FIELDS
Friday, December 18, 2020
LOVE
I am holding
in the cleft
of you, moving
and holding
and moving.
I think I am
and then I am
falling. I am
falling: there's
no way back.
A CUP
Thursday, December 17, 2020
YOU ARE DEAD
HOW MUCH
How much of this
conversation
are you following,
he asked me. None
of it, I said.
I am watching
the stars. They have
more to say than
you can imagine.
Wednesday, December 16, 2020
THE OTHER WORD
HIS FACE
Tuesday, December 15, 2020
HARDENING
Hardening
in the joy of
hardening.
Releasing
in the joy of
her enjoyment.
O Lord,
again I say --
Lord, lord.
THE POEM IS
Monday, December 14, 2020
I TURN
SHE DOES
Sunday, December 13, 2020
DEATH IS
Death is
thing as
thing is
thing. That is:
death is
darkness,
is the cold
rain, is
the least
bit of wet
light breaking
through.
Whatever
we call it,
that it is.
TO DREAM
Saturday, December 12, 2020
THE IDEA
ANNIVERSARY
There is no wisdom
in the grey silence.
Fifty-one years
we've been married,
wondering Are we
good for another one?
The sun will break through.
The moon this evening.
We know what we have
We have what we want.
Friday, December 11, 2020
HAD WE
DECEMBER
Thursday, December 10, 2020
READER, I DO NOT
Reader, I do not
think of you as
I write, except
and unless I am
addressing you,
as I am in this
particular instance.
Mostly I think
about what the words
want, not about
what will please you.
How could I begin
to know what you think
is truth, is beauty?
Where I see red-tail
you see symbol.
HOW MUCH
Wednesday, December 09, 2020
AND IF
I WONDER
I wonder
do creatures
of the far
stars have clowns?
Do they know
as we do
that when we
laugh, we laugh
at ourselves?
Do they laugh
at themselves
as we do,
at the far
darkness in
the heart of
our dark hearts?
Tuesday, December 08, 2020
ONLY BY
AT THAT MOMENT
Monday, December 07, 2020
POETRY IS
Poetry is a language
spoken by only
one person, the
poet--
but is related
to the brother and
sister languages
spoken by other
poets--
yes. So that, sometimes,
if you listen,
you might hear what
their hearts know.
THE LOCUSTS
How do the
locusts count
to seventeen
in their long
darkness of
waiting? Why
do they sing
all summer
in their time?
What does their
pregnant silence
mean in other
years? What else
am I not
meant to know?
Sunday, December 06, 2020
WATER FLOWS
Water flows
where water
wishes, which
is where it
must: seaward,
skysome, a
great returning
like a song
which can't stop
the singing.
SOUND OF THE STORM
Saturday, December 05, 2020
SENTINEL CROWS
METAPHOR
Friday, December 04, 2020
FROM BEYOND
Somewhere
from beyond
the scrawl
of code
on dirt and
grass. Lines
which, if
I could read
them, would
say what
meaning is
or isn't.
CHILDHOOD IN IOWA
How we wanted
to be so cold
only hot cocoa
could save us.
We made caves
in the snow
and waited
and waited,
until the blue
light failed us,
until darkness
pulled us home.
Thursday, December 03, 2020
WHAT DOES IT MEAN
Pale Moon
Wednesday, December 02, 2020
A FAR RIDGE
THE GREAT ATTRACTOR
Tuesday, December 01, 2020
YES, THERE ARE
HOW SOON
