Poem - who could know

let things rest gently tonight
remember you don't have to do or go anywhere
you can just sit and even stretch out

read a poem or part of a book
some music in the background if you want
free of other things you rarely stop thinking

you don't even need to do most of them all the time
most of your tasks an extension of worry
besides in a day or two it might snow

day of snow in later april
who'd know that
who could know


==

Osseo

no objections because
you cannot say no to it
this fond thing river of time
sometimes cold deep or slow
oftentimes rushing sparkly fast
each of us plunked into the stream

i tell stories as if i was a captain
and i had a boat but i go recklessly
from swirl to swirl just like a leaf
no objections because this is life
made so sweet because
of such uncertainty and wonder



***

Out in Osseo
4.15.17

i look at my mind
who i reason i am is irrelevant when centered

seeking to be protection
the order of my constructed thoughts

make a prison or a fiery bed
reeking with regrets and resentments

i look at my mind
and see it is like a cloud

if i admire it as the height of highest illusions
lit by fancy and emotions

as radiantly as a cloud by the sun
and just as substantial as a mist

with no physical foundation or reality
then all is well


***

in the fields of Osseo

stamped from a similar clay
the tilt of the head
the dress
the smile

in a previous time
we parted company
you going home
to a small safe room
to a small town
to mom and dad

this time just seeing
the picture by the lake
snippets of your wishes
naive at heart

an innocent blown here
then somewhere else
blown by the world
that yearns to be deceived


---

this morning at dawn a clean slate
i can make room for whatever i want

the pond has swaying branches over it
overcast with just a hint of dusty blue

i turn within and feather my own mind
then see each bird outside looking for seeds

this morning at dawn a clean slate
i can make room for whatever i want


**

the air
distances
hushed

first
grey
then

haze
like cloudy
glass

or how
memories
form

spring
rigging
blossoms
and buds

soon to be
hatching
out

of still
brown
meadows



****

it is what you do
take a birthday

in a new year
keep taking risks

on this day
celebrate where you are

on this day
think gee-whiz

the stuff i've done
the places i've been

what is in store
the best will be

the very best

impossible to ignore
after all the rest


___

for soubia
4/1/17

how we make our loved ones suffer
for what we think or call brave & good

but really just punishment and rage
directed at ourselves acted through them

mercy turn away from any thought up necessary things
you must do towards others to discipline them

avoidance of misery is heaven on earth
if only we would stay within our own circle


*

minnesota
the second day of spring 2017

show me your horses
your motorcycles and fish
show your guns and boats

on a sunny day by aspens
on a bright day by maples
on a summer's day on the lake

sports music and laughter
going out on the town or staying in
family is central sarcasm essential



**

when i thought of you
in the next room
i heard a spoon rattle in an empty cup

there my mind stopped
and i felt such regret
and sadness



**

what could be the last snow
of the winter is here

it is gentle and falls
my new neighbor walks heavily upstairs

they stomp from room to room

i'm told that everything
is a mirror




*

they took a road
and laid it over a charming stream
on one side the water splits into two
where birch trees sway and a rabbit runs

the dream of the undisturbed stream
defying our right of way that cannot be undone
mirror like glassy and calm in response
to plans or demands

do you yearn for a stream
from childhood you knew by heart
similarly crossed by traffic or muted
by complexes of houses

do you remember how a space
was a filled

a field a farm a river a forest


^

we all know the place i write of
your hands at a table
a crumpled note or a magazine

your father home soon
a buzz just coming off
from whatever you have

rationed by you mother
who is working upstairs
your phone heavy with texts

you go through being
smugly satisfied warm with
anticipation and deep anger

i am a phantom you filled
with desire and rejection
yearning hope and mania

but you're not here you're there
more real than here in the place
i imagine and write of

noted who is narrating
the scene begins

to pale and fade
only my selfishness remains

the great engine of desire
drove us both off a cliff
then beyond and beyond this

where even my remembering
how you might be right now
is an exercise in blind vanity

no nevermind dear nevermind
we live and new lovers and loves

when the phone rings or
a bouquet of roses appear
dear nevermind

did you ever cry
because you couldn't save

what you see as
a perfect sunset

love going
is like that

there are billions of suns
and as many loves



***

i'm suffering from samsara
but i'm not broken

there is nothing to break
except my illusions

saying conserve us
we're the spice of your life



**

mother cries at the gate
she holds your hand through the bars
but she is going back

it will be a long journey then
to be here
even to these bars

these bright lights
these painfully shining linoleum floors

as two separate points
you get farther away from mother
your mother gets father away from you

who knows when a journey
might bring you to her
or her to you

you stay at the gate
after mother is taken away
dots her tears on the floor

like a path
to another locked and closed door


**

hands moving in hotel rooms
drinking wine signing stationary
wish you were here glad they are not

vista outside of a perfect white beach
wind blows through the room
everything neat and paid for

from the 40th floor you see everything
everything is possible and exciting
either considering to jump or eat dinner

balanced in hotel room you know well
that one motion starts another everything
from that first perceptible accident


**

pictures of hotel rooms
of hand signals
of outfits
of cars
of restaurants
of drinking
of beaches
it never ends

there is no narrative
only assumptions
of what is gracious
of what is stylish
of what is attractive
of what is fancy
of what is desirable

the mummery continues
wants and desires
wrapped layer on layer
until the mind is paralyzed
the true self unrecognizable

but finding true self or clarity
was never the object of this

behold my beauty
and despair




**

because i was dead
i could see everywhere
i knew everything
but i thought back

to when i was alive
when i fished at night
i seemed to be pulling
fish out of a starry sky

the boat moved
over the moon
an orb that winked

the great deep
blackness of time
i easily conquered

the only break
in this

were the fish
writhing and dying
gasping to death



#

you can find me
i am in the sky
just beyond swaying leaves
i am in the fields

if you are happy
i am here too
all kinds of happiness

i am in the sky
in the fields

by the lakes
you can find me
in noon and in dusk
golden light
apple colored light

if you are happy
i especially appear
all kinds of joy

white ice
melting
tan grasses

i am in the sky
in the fields
by the lakes


*

Osseo MN