on hot summer days without a stain in the sky

on hot summer days without a stain in the sky
they pull people out of the ocean regularly 

dead, sometimes alive 

living by the sea you get used to it 

see how the sand moves rocks covered

tourists arriving hunting for the best spot  

at dusk beach towels/ toys are left behind

i walked through a spider's web down 

on the way to the cove

the spider didn't cry 

-----

this series of explanations like old oven mitts

i had an amazing dream last night
that was a whole poem  

it was bright it was rare

it soared you'd say gee whiz

and now waking i can't

even get it to fit into this jail

this tube

this box

this rummage sale

this series of explanations like old oven mitts 

-----

i had five or ten poems

i had five or ten poems

pass me in the last week or so

most seemed to be pretty good

but i didn't write them down 

now i see them in the distance

they pretend they don't know me 

o poet

this isn't like fishing and saying

what big ones got away 

put a pen in hand and grab

the first thing you can write on

-------

birthday

july 11 i'm grateful

because i know i should be 

my sister asks me what was

my all time favorite birthday gift

i say it probably was

a 1976 yellow stingray bike

with sissy bars and a 

glittery speckled banana seat 

but thinking about it more

i'm most grateful for being born

so thanks mom 

------

beyond

everything on the outside
appears a demented but looking closer
i see it makes sense 

then looking closer by backing away

i am demented and back further

we are standing on a summit

all around us is the brightest sky

a total culmination arrived at by nature

beyond grace and faith 

look at me like a stump of a smashed candle/ or a lopsided tomb or a fool

look at me like a stump of a smashed candle
or a lopsided tomb or a fool

see me like the grapes in the valley

or a treetop touched by the sun or a flying bird

i wanted to give you a pocket of moonlight

sounds of water rubbing on pebbles

i'll listen to you but i won't judge 

follow you but not imitate your grace 

-----

honestly i have something more to say/ and it may be the truth

honestly i have something more to say

and it may be the truth 

but no honesty in me to say it 

my excuse is the long drive the fields

the history of feeling lost in words

or hiding in the plainest considerations

how many of us have stayed 

in this futile place as if in a place preferred

saying one is marooned yet one is not 

never stop seeking honestly

 what you can 

and wish to be even more clear

you will forget all your petty ideas and chores

stumbling blocks are like crumbs

like specks when we become 

bright inside like mountains 

write me something/ random and clever

write me something

random and clever

but never tell me

the truth 

be honest as the day

sure like sunlight

so when it rains

i'll smile 

be like my tears

or a book i loaned 

and never got back 

but all is well

i dream about the mechanics of dreams

i dream about the mechanics of dreams

i work on their stacks and piping 

i rummage in their bunkers and storehouses

walking for miles down corridors

going through caves 

 

i assign the ballast of bliss and of nightmares

i dream of all their illusive operations

i am assigned to work between the scenes 

i see where they illogically join

weld the broken seams 

in a phantom train yard

switching dreams like freight cars

run endlessly steady over the horizon 

i dwell on the timetable

read dream maps 

study dream histories 

i had something to say / i took a vacation from self

i had something to say 
but i left it alone 

and when i did this

everything smoothed out

became calm and easy

i took a vacation from self 

i don't know when i'll be back

plus when i left for my trip

i took everyone along for free

they get to do whatever they want

and this is a nice day

and this is a nice day

sky a robin's egg blue 

puffs of air ruffling your hair

each minute a peppermint

every hour like a flower 

-----

sweetly say there will be/ no terrible retribution

sweetly say there will be
no terrible retribution 

in a race to ruin every kind of kindness

people bravely command 

the end of any kind of affection

(can we really be held responsible for this?)

the objective and the prize?

there is no objective or prize

(we are beyond logic)

there is oblivion 

there is annihilation 

there is silence 

imprisoned

laying in a grave 

the sun burning down 

ashes to ashes and dust to dust

it is ridiculous
all i want to do is hear you sing
in that language i didn't understand
under the shadowy eves

and teach me about life

but in the sweeping searchlights

of these focused times

with sweat running down our spines

and a sour taste in my mouth

ashes to ashes and dust to dust

we go on like there's 

nothing to explain 

.....

America, 2026
 

i guess it must be fate

i passed you the other day

and i pretended you were not just like me

with hopes ideas and fears 

and much to do in life

later i came back with the police

i wanted them to lock you up or make you nice

but the cops said you were harmless 

and sent you to a country in africa

after that for some reason

i have a hard time sleeping at night

and i don't enjoy my walk past where you stood

day or night rain or shine

i guess it must be fate

.....

America, 2026

there is something frightening in what we say

there is something frightening in what we say

anything at all is born with intention 

mostly to annihilate the moment 

or more like seeing pristine snow

a glittering layer that would wilt 

from the warmth of your fingers

and shoveling it 

-----0