Tuesday, July 14, 2020

someone i hoped to meet

someone i hoped to meet
i will never meet

but you can always 
write a poem 

how grateful i am 
for everyone i've met

there was nothing ordinary 
ever in anyone 


Friday, July 10, 2020

they say this morning garden is impossible

they say this morning garden is impossible
as all should be carefully selected and none possibly overrun the other
but this paradise is a reckless place life making it so 
every living thing excelling striving and billowing with stems and leaves
a riot of colors and charging growing that is as unruly as it is challenging
all notions of good order and what should be placidity out the window
bursting celebrating swaying together reaching up limits narrowness overcome
in the morning of this life were we may be pricked or stung  
we can admire it if we wish and sing this and love 


planet earth

Monday, July 06, 2020

what a fine summers day

all trees have plans
to put roots through
our corpses



one ton of happiness
is very light

one ounce of misery

what we think is happiness
or misery 

is interchangeable
weather-vane like mind


Wednesday, June 24, 2020

as your father/ i must say

as your father
i must say
this holy thing
all fathers say
and you know
beforehand what
all fathers say
but for some reason
you still will not

turn off the light
in the room
you just left



"Put your pants on!" he said to his kids, after 2 PM on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

"Why?" they asked. 


"BUT WHY!?!?" 


"OK. We'll wear our swimming suits."

"Fine." he said after thinking about it and deciding it wasn't worth fighting over anymore. 

___ ____

Sunday, June 14, 2020

on this june day

on this june day
what do you have to say?

the birds and the trees 
in full force

the squirrels in the yard
faster than the cats 

but nothing quicker
than an unsatisfied mind

and for what
remembering lost games 

where you landed
on boardwalk


Tuesday, May 26, 2020

i let my thoughts come and go

i let my thoughts come and go
i don't stare at my thoughts
that would be rude


Hat Lake

Wednesday, May 20, 2020


he had a booming voice
a personality like fireworks 
loud applause or thunder
organizing poetry at the cafe
he built a podium with a light
out of unvarnished wood
the podium was straight and tall
master carpenter
you had to step up onto it
as he ran a tight ship in readings
scrupulously fair about how long
you'd be able to read 
poetry was his ideal and his life
he was as impressive as irritating
gracious as impetuous 
courteous singing brash
and rude vibrant gloating graceful
remembering forgetting but
never for a moment 
regular boring
or ordinary 

"joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer"

'My father moved through dooms of love'
ee cummings 

Lew Gardner
1931 - 2018

there's poetry that lasts

there's poetry that lasts
too bad we can't hang out forever
get sick of each other's opinions
more than we are now

because there's something intimate
about being annoyed at your thoughts
how i derailed some of your readings
or made you cry 


all night you eat ghosts

everything is normal
though we do feel beat up by sleeping

all that traveling
through billions of places

every fleck and mote of dust
super real and will be there forever 


all night you eat ghosts
in the morning you shit them