reversal of roles

my dad died
i'm looking at all these shots of him
pictures of the family and friends
neighbors backyards

photos seen all my life
but now i can't remember everything
there's an emptiness

before i'd have
10 or 100 or 1000 incidental recollections
seeing the picture now like
a scene acted out by people i know

plus irony?
my dad gone
reversal of roles
my dad is young and i am old

and where did it all go
moon is the same sun is the same
stars too but not all of us

even age out of order
every immovable
down here moved


**

12th Ave N & 3rd St N

scooping water by hand
praying by hand
writing poetry by hand
all laborious constantly
gathering up and dropping
getting down to fingers
plucking at ukulele strings
ukulele ukulele jumping fleas
getting down to nails
beds of them the crescents of them
down to the tree i have
on the side of my hand
the tree with four nail moons
below it

i want to be writing and making sense
but not meaning anything

being free

then because of this
we may arrive at the truth we arrive at

look at this

like a stick dipping into the surface
of our minds

ripples are words


**

Fountain Ave

several times yes
i do not know:

every tree we see becomes a mansion
that the planets and stars sashay in
appealing to the backdrop of mind

**


несколько раз да
я не знаю:


каждое дерево, которое мы видим, становится домом
что планеты и звезды танцуют в
обращаясь к фону ума

**

for ee cummings

i can give you nothing but this face
fixed in white plaster

a funeral mask

in it i hope you will see i know nothing

i am beyond all hope

and fear

if you give a few lines how i could be

careful and even

kind to love

i will be grateful wherever i've gone

you will not know where

but joy i'll be

---

for ee cummings

Post Street

stay with me down the lane
where fame never comes
but the moon sends us letters
sun cleverly rises like a cat

where angels drop by in jeans
above and below mingle for pantomimes
death demures to win at cards

beautiful odes going in and out
of the windows like carrier pigeons
the afternoon tea full of stories
and clocks stuffed with honey

stay with me down the lane
where pillows are plumped
and the bed is covered in gold ingots

civilizations astounded by
red beans and rice
doilies and pumps
crow rickshaws wiser

**

WB

he sang this
o beauty

every place he lived in or loved
was knocked down

his gravesite was neglected
lost then found

angels he heard sing true
never stopped

crowded in the trees above
new white stone

can you hear the songs
can you see

he sang thus
o beauty

___

8.13.18

he said a sense of longing starts a poem

he said a sense of longing starts a poem
keen homesickness loss or grief
and if the poet knows the reader knows
hope rescue and belief

life moved mysterious deep and sweet
of journeys and in verse
harbor is never far away and often
we are safe before we see



**

for gurr
8.10.18

and

Robert Frost

Sedgwick Street and 21st Lane SW

i am free
to think a hell or a heaven
see the end or the beginning
say we are separate or united
feel we are far away or close
with such freedom

o my what a big sky

**

to gurr
8.9.18

Boston Avenue South

we have nothing we can give to anyone
but also everything to give

supposedly each of us on an island or in a castle
untouchable and separate

or we are all one and there is no division
you are tending to my heaven and i yours


**

to gurr
8.9.18

33rd Avenue Southwest

a manager of dewdrops at dawn

the counter of sunbeams on leaves at noon
listening for every bubble pop at the brook

guesser of what the frogs think

sky and all the clouds
measuring the quality of the day

mediating unspoken histories of
anything in anything

in every task it assigns to itself

doubly and triply effective 

inching closer to perfection

by every grain of dust collected

*

Seminole Avenue West

as a courtesy i stole every thing from them
every dream every hope every holdout and illusion

from this outrage they then claimed it all back from me
when they had nary a complaint nor a resentment

with a peace so high and so calm and so constant
every mechanization of mine was flowered into a bouquet
of bliss of blessings of return and home unending


*

Lambeth Place

let me have my mountain
i'll climb it and i may find you
climbing too or ever at the summit

you might be that star i was seeing
all my life that i thought
would never be reached


**

July 13

the living the doing
the involved the busy

we can't see anything
but that is not sad

beyond ordinary eyes
worldly sounds

majestically the retinue
is gathered

having a good time

*

when you do see them
we'll all have a good laugh

remembering how detail
is so real and every flower

is like a mountain
and bees

like eagles





***



July 13

dad this tribute to you / until we meet again

dad this tribute to you
until we meet again
above the sky beyond
in timeless time
we turn to memories
recollection stories
that make a smile
photographs become
beacons or stages

like the one
on the day of marriage
it is a bright scene
him prime steadfast
earnest heart united
with his bride and
she in white satin
bright as grace
or like lightening

together a life unfurling
great and unknown
they both so young
poised too in that light
it is so far away
and yet so close

miles moved
off to the west
the houses cars
children and stories
jobs commutes
songs dinners jokes
work roofs roofed
yards and fireworks
faithful dogs books
packards and campouts
redwoods bodega bay
industry passion
like an arrowhead
like a finding
and if needed a push
would give a shove
when striving
he won

for some he is in
everything we
ever thought
above all
he was and still is
not done but moving
in hearts and in minds
son brother husband father
grandfather companion
friend steadfast
a veteran

him in one
recent photograph
taken not far from here
a knowing smile
kind tilt of the head
caught in that light again
so bright so far away
and yet so close

love and joy
for him that comes
because he gave it

if you decide
to look for him today
you cannot find him
anywhere because
he is everywhere

----

6/17/18

under the purple sky

i dream quite a long time
vividly about being able to fly
in this dream flying is easy
and i can go vast distances

i fly to a land that has big boulders
resting on waves of pink stone
the people native to there
build houses at the bases of them

it becomes dusk and the lights
of all the dwellings start to come on
i watch this from a beehive shaped stone
i landed on under the purple sky


**

i had a dream of dying / in a micro hotel

i had a dream of dying
in a micro hotel
guarded by teenagers high
armed with automatic weapons

i woke up not in a
micro hotel on a day that
promises to breezy and sunny
with no problems really

the issues are all out of sight
developing in directions
causes and conditions form
like innocent clouds at first

but for this bright easy day
why should anyone worry
or think dark thoughts
of a broken world

on this bright awake day
there's still time to change
spread peace and hope and save
the parents of the parents

and their parents and even me
the owner of the micro hotel
and tyrant
in that dream


**

lie in my obituary

"No me dejen morir así, digan que dije algo ..."

 --- José Doroteo Arango Arámbula


lie in my obituary
tell them i freed every lion bear and tiger i met
tell them birds would land on my fingers
i could sing whole operas by heart
i knew 350 languages
i traveled the world
tell them i knew the best places that made shoes compasses marbled paper fireworks and beehives
i invented complicated technology that contacted alien life
that allowed barriers here on the planet to fall
tell them i was grateful dignified knowledgeable and funny
tell them i had a tattoo and a parrot and an orchard of golden apples
and when i swam every river i encountered i was like a dolphin
or like beowulf

tell them i had the sky in my eyes with a hint of lightening
all the world was in my heart and peace and justice in each hand
when i rested i was meek as a dove and when roused valiant like a lion


99

reading my father's obituary

reading my father's obituary
i'm a little bit angry he's gone
but it passes the details are nice
my sister wrote it for the paper

she works for them as an editor
how good does it get to have
your obituary written by family
but i suppose all obituaries are like that

and it comes to me that there is so much
i will never know and i never asked
because i resented the information
or i thought we had more time

in what you could know
in what you might want to find out
in what you keep forgetting to say
all my selfishness toward my father

for he is like a mountain that has vanished
mountains of mountains or even the sky
gone distilled into words on a page
with a photo on how he'd like to be seen



@@

99

i've been poisoning my own mind
by thinking about what i want or what i'd like

as if desiring something right would justify
what i am doing in poisoning myself



99

Essential Knots: Lao Tzu Says Don't Be Sad

I learn 5 essential knots. When I get home I want to show them to Lao Tzu, who is sitting on the couch and petting one cat with one hand, and the other cat with his other hand.

"Here is the 'bowline' and here is the 'larkshead'" I say, "But I can't remember the other three essential knots."

"And the 'bowline' I just made fell apart. So I don't know the 'bowline' after all." I confess.

I feel very down that I couldn't tie 4 of the knots.

"Don't be sad." says Lao Tzu, smiling, still petting the cats, "If there were bows here to tie lines on, you would know how, and do it."


----

Osseo

Chung Tzu: Why don't you give them a heads up like I do?

The morning is beautiful, bright, with a few stray clouds going west. Going to work, I get cut off repeatedly by a fiery red Dodge Charger. I think the driver is not paying attention, or they are crazy.

When I pull into work, it pulls up next to me.

Chung Tzu is at the wheel, and I see Lao Tzu and Henry Ford talking quietly in the back seat.

"I am astonished!" I say. "I did not know you could drive."

"Yaaaas?" replies Chung Tzu like Dean Moriarty.

"How so? Why?" is all I can say back.

"If you are aware you know so little, why do you take such pride in what you think you know?" says Henry Ford.

"Just what the man said." says Chung Tzu.

"But what about all the bugs and little creatures that will get hurt when you go speeding down the road?"

"Oh, that is not a problem." says Chung Tzu, revving the engine, "I just yell out from time to time as we go that I'm completely mad ... "

"I don't think that will work for me."

"Have you tried?" asks Henry Ford.

"Not yet."

"Well, if you don't try things, you'll never know." says Henry Ford.

"Even things that seem to be silly?"

"Yes." says Henry Ford.


***

Later in the day I call Chung Tzu up.

"How is the driving going? How are all those critters and bugs?"

"Just fine!" says Chung Tzu.

"Oh?"

"Yeah! We can be OK out in the world, anywhere. The only person they have to watch out for is people like you! Why don't you give them a heads up?"

"I'd rather be the kind of person where they don't have to watch out for me at all." I say after thinking about what Chung Tzu said.

"Oh?" asks Chung Tzu. "You could try that too."



***


Minnetonka
Cheshire Lane

at the window sill on a windy day / there is a downturned drinking glass

at the window sill on a windy day
there is a downturned drinking glass
set on a square of cardboard
purpose forgotten and a cat content
cleaning his paws and face

wind roars and the window opened
just a crack lets the breeze in

the down-turned drinking glass
could be covering could be holding
every secret contained in thoughts
what you kept and what escapes
at the window sill on a windy day



***

Maple Grove
6/3/18

the money route / it all costs money

the money route
it all costs money
the house
the lifestyle
the ideals the happiness
the anger
the self-justification
if you're going to live
with money
the money route
money becoming
higher than even
who you are
or will ever
want to be

having the latest
looking perfect
on the outside
ever striving
racing over the globe
life fleeting
unhappy children
co workers breaking
house too big
lifestyle ridiculous
a tyranny of fashion
of lawn parties
of clubs
of worthy causes
of sorees
of NY LA and Paris

and the yacht you couldn't get
and the event they blocked you from
and the award you never will get
and the recognition imitators stole
and the truth of all the effort
and the valley you wanted to cultivate
and the villa you would have retired to
and the countryside you would have wandered
like a newly minted vagabond




***

a door slams hard in the hallway / a woman screams someone falls more words

a door slams hard in the hallway
a woman screams someone falls more words

takes me back to oak park
we were the new couple from california

the newcomers who fought
the neighborhood hung back and peeked

didn't want to get whatever
we had like it might be a disease

the house we owned
was known secretly to be unlucky

whoever called the cops
to clean out our 'shit act' from california

whoever hung the rear bumper
from the back fence while i was away

whoever broke in looked
and investigated the home and remains

thanks it was a pleasure
for the hospitality and your kindness

confirming the kind of neighbors
to those in trouble you'd want to be

i heard a new couple moved in
with three small girls and a couple of cats

they're from around there
they redecorated and are very happy


____

corcoran over country road / before it rains i see a two red birds

corcoran over country roads
before it rains i see a two red birds

playing on the side of the road
almost like a dance where it was

just a month ago a layer of mum snow
now as i passed a seeming endless

place where living and dying is freely exchanged
over the fields as far as you'd care to see

marked by every fence and
animal dream


***

corcoran / over country roads

corcoran
over country roads

before it rains
i see a leaf and plastic bag

playing on the side
of the road

almost like a dance
where it was

just a month ago
a layer of snow there

as i passed

now seeming endless
place where

living and dying is
freely exchanged

over the fields as far
as you'd care to see

marked by every fence
and animal dream


***

Corcoran
6/2/18

noon field so broad / full trees and the earth

noon field so broad
full trees and the earth
all witnessing sky

fox and eagle fight
grasped rabbit in-between

thought doomed
the rabbit wiggled free
bloodied but alive

vanishes into reeds
fox and eagle denied

noon field so broad
fox goes one way
eagle goes another

full trees and the earth
all witnessing sky



**

let me express my zeal

let me express my zeal
for the burning of the world
but the hotter it gets
the colder i feel

o stars i was the brightest
none came close to me
thus my coldness
my hate

i forged the depths of hell
from the most stalwart of souls
invincible like me
in defiance

revolutionaries great cause
the highest one of all
break the sacred yoke
suffer and be free

glorious in anger and rage
wrath higher and higher seen
embers flung spite
angles eyes

i pledged

all you betrayed all you
murderers takers stealers
besotted and insane
all abandoned

perjurers deniers killers
hate mongers revenge seekers
oath breakers teller of lies
corruptness

those who will never make
amends those who never
will bend or ask pardon
or surrender

come to the darkness i arraigned
come to the fires
that turn all to ashes
even mother and father

i will crush you
i will press you
i will use you
for all eternity


**

el diablo

Lao Tzu by the Grass

This morning, just after dawn, Lao Tzu is by the grass. He is by the pond with a flock of geese. They are all looking over the water.

I go downstairs to see him, with a cup of tea. I have to excuse myself past several of the geese, but they tolerate me.

"The grass is cool and wet on my feet." I say, as I give him the cup of tea.

"It stays that way almost all day, until the sun warms it." says Lao Tzu quietly.

"I meant to say 'good morning', but I said what I felt instead. The grass and the cool water on my feet."

Lao Tzu smiles, blows on the tea. "Few speak what they feel!"



***

Morning
By the Pond

on a hill of gozo/ there is church

on a hill of gozo
there is church
stout like the hill
pink like the rock
virgin mary
in a cave
at the foot

souls go to it
and back like
birds to it
and back like
ships to it this
church on the hill

even at night
if you are lost
or lonely or
tired you can find
on a hill of gozo

this church
virgin mary
in a cave
at the foot
stout like the hill

Peacefully or Fretfully

Chung Tzu and I sit outside under the trees, the dogwoods and serviceberrys are fragrant and bursting with white petals. They fall like snow! The sky is greater and greater and the petals keep falling.

"What do you say about these petals?" I ask Chung Tzu.

"They are all perfumed and falling sweetly." says Chung Tzu, "Some cry and say this is terrible. They cannot even sleep at night, clutching their pillow, moaning, grinding their teeth."

"Oh?"

"Others rejoice and are elated."says Chung Tzu, "Those sense the night so peacefully."

"Why?"

"Depends! How do you spend your night? Peacefully or fretfully?"


--------

By the Pond
Under the dogwood trees
Spring
MN

Chung Tzu Says Quietly

"Water does not run uphill. Wind does not blow backwards." I mention to Chung Tzu.

The light changes over the surface of the lake. I can see ripples spreading, as the wind blows. Dry reeds bend, from last summer. The new reeds will be pushing through.

"Ahem." he says.

"Where do these thoughts come from?" I ask him sincerely.

"Water flows. Wind blows. Mind plays at flowing, blowing." Chung Tzu says.


___

Afternoon
View of the Pond
MN

Chung Tzu Goes HONK

It is the morning, on the 3rd floor. Cats are fed. Chung Tzu comes in and points.

"Where you been?" I ask him.

"Been? Brother, I've been here all along!"

"Where?"

"La la! Down there. In paradise." he points to the pond.

"What did you find? Water and mud?"

"Reeds! Sticks!" says Chung Tzu.

"I saw you all along!" I exclaim, jumping up, shaking his hand. "I thought you were a big goose!"

"HONK!" goes Chung Tzu.



**

i'm not afraid of what i will find

May 7th

i'm not afraid of what i will find
it is a lock of your hair
i think about your shoes
how they were still there
pointed at the wall
the idea you were not
coming back to put them on
was insane impossible

i'm just a little afraid
of what i might think next
how it might extend the sadness
past where it is due
and should be felt
past when it is good
might extend past where
it should be let go

so i pray in three
different languages
all the heartfelt prayers
of devotion and generosity
that i can pray for you
my mother my enemies
and even for me
letting it all go

because we don't count
our tears by weight or
numbers nor on the
richter scale our thoughts

i'll pray for you now
and i will pray for you later
for all of us even dear reader
this will make some light
for those who decide
to keep on loving
after they cried
and the heart
was broken



**

there is a recent picture of you looking sprightly

there is a recent picture of you looking sprightly
with a huge grin the biggest i've ever seen from you
and something else more like how part of us
goes on forever after whatever happens next
mom called me and said she picked up your ashes
the other afternoon and they were in a plain wooden box
just the kind of box you might appreciate and i think
of agony of sleep of trails and planes connections weariness
leaving arriving leaving moon rising falling venus black night
small bedside light sheets the blues a bed turn turn unspooling
dawn whiteness of stones and green green grass at dawn
home you smiling in the kitchen because my sister said
'smile dad!' and you were feeling pretty good so you did


**

for my father
5.04.18

this may day beneath the breath of

this may day beneath the breath of
a bronze and powder blue sky
branches all trembling
shoots and buds to enjoy
all the sun and admiration
of every creature that can be glad


----

Osseo
May 1
2018

i won't say it

i won't say it
of the loving grace
and the mercy of the sky

i won't say it
everything about you
and i abandoned all hope
all thoughts

i won't say it
two geese looking like silver
flew under the orange moon and
i prayed


8

let me get the feeling

let me get the feeling
muse of a dream where i was stealing
from dead friends or that the ghost
of jc haunts the  GREAT BICYCLE OF THIS EARTH
in his lonely way high high up as the holy spirit
like a moon reflected in the attic window
in the eyes of a doll reflected in a black mirror

and i would never
be stealing from my friends who have passed
virtually or in this waking life and i would never
think that jc is haunting the RAMBLING MANDARIN ORANGES
with a feeling of wandering sadness high high up
where you can barely see his wise and lonely face
that is at both revealing remote and frightening

but how do you live
and where did you go and who did you see
and in what city did you travel to and see the face
of jc in a cathedral or a canal or a eatery or bar
or the leftover portions of a house or mansion
bombed and the shelled and then repaired and then
still haunted with such faces and the holy spirit
WE THREE KINGS OF ORIENT ARE

no tour de force
no abiding and no never claiming anything
from my friends who have gone before me
and just watching the moon where i am
how things come and go in this mansion i found
by accident and the mirrors and the high window
that revealed this poem this moon and the deep yearning
for  REMANDED TO MY BROTHER'S KEEPER
that surprises one when the night is right
and you are far away from faith




**

not to be dark

not to be dark
but in being watched
at any time reviewed
the potential of being scanned
online

like the same
as if they got a ladder
and light and shone it in
your night time window
when you were
sleeping

and you can't
do anything
to stop them

or could
brick up your window
and not breathe

such is the security
of the state
shone through
the prism of personality
of
privacy

creating these
floating rainbows
and algorithms
on the ceiling
in society
in the law
on our minds


*

in every bud scores of leaves

in every bud scores of leaves
every leaf an entire world
all these places unfurling
so millions and millions of worlds
teeming waving taking sun and shade
adding to my own little world

i find myself singing out
laughing wanting to run or play
how can i bide with ideas like
if i should go or not or be restrained
when mother nature abounds
with such wonderful multiplicity

go!
play!


_____

Minnetonka
April 30 2018

i've been thinking about / my life now ... a poem that took 27 years to write

... ..... me at 23:

i've been thinking about
my life now and
wondering if it is
worth living --
not thinking of suicide
but just thinking on
the alternatives one has
besides suicide

what can i do/ or could do
to change the changes

i wish i could think
about my life seriously
like it was some precious
mineral
or think about my life
considering it
like one might contemplate
something holy

i don't mind to say
that great holiness is
not a thing i see as
all important to a good life
holiness has
always framed up external
barriers bridges and
avenues

i can see them but
i know they are
not for me -- i am
not for them
yet we get along alright

i could have overlooked
something dangerous
that will be popping up
out of the smoke
i'm not immune nor fixated
on pain
and at the same time
i don't want to say
that i ate slept and
breathed myself into
a coffin

 ... .... me continuing at 50:

i believe
we should live well
specially
in being happy
and tell others how we did it
and if they want
do what we did
and it is good for them
then that is
the whole point

-----

for latif harris
for robert funge
for lama tharchin
for dudjom rinpoche
for my own father

some of my own notes
written in about 1990
found in a book
about Jack Kerouac
"Jack's Book"
two days after my father died

on sunday morning come soon

on sunday morning come soon
his breathing is slow and light
his eyes are open and he is composed
after two days of toil
after two days of work

the body lessening grip on a soul
or unwinding like a tight coil
a bright spring that ran
as a someone being a man
letting nature go bit
by bit as if out of a cage
out of a box out of an envelope
loose from the flesh

morning noon evening
deep into the last night
speaking sounds
with some inflection
that we could comprehend
meaning 'going out'
'going soon' 'hearing all'
with exhaustion we sleep
he works on works on

then sunday morning come soon
his breathing is slow and light
his nails are gently blue
his eyes open and he is composed
laying in the bed
that was his grandfather's
at home home home

some breeze
fluttering the blinds
and then still free bright


**

For my father
Robert Werth Evans
4.22.18
Napa CA

fully involved

now in age 50 fully involved
seeing a vision like a fire
burning down a physical self
thoughts center around aging again

cycles turning spinning a regime
of meditations as if like an athlete
i must be in prime shape for time's assault
that will never stop until i am stopped

plans are made but seldom go
unplaced into motion plans expire
despite the game of thinking on
thinking thinking

feeling helpless and on edge
yet suddenly sometimes entering
another zone of having all the time
in the world like i always acted like i had

just as quickly now i see i do not
by witness of my parents
passing friends in a world that
came before me and thus owes me nothing

but i will be valiant in poems
and not give up happiness
because it is happiness
because i am happy

not think about things i should not
arrive at any conclusion of

or have any right to


----

for Robert Funge

at four pm

a snowflake
as a bird
or see a flower
as a mountain

all together
in one afternoon
at four pm
me thinking



**

i am asleep/ do you know me

i am asleep
do you know me
recognize me
then you too are asleep

we wear
these bodies
wear the
outerness

12345 main street
anytown anywhere
like bragging
bluster

farther out
there is wind there
is weather and
events

people places
things as nested
gears in a
mechanism

meticulously
arraigned shining
layers oh
so fine

crafted wound by
delirious clock
maker mind
architect

while the
present moment
is empty and
resependant

lumious
naked awreess
emptiness the
light

and this light
mistaken
for a trillion
thngs

silly silly
silly how can you
not be laughing
smiling

at a generous
pantomime
with the best
of intentions

innocent play
of a mind without
an ounce of
malice

lighter
than a sunbeam


____


for Jñana

a new snow / on this white spring

a new snow
on this white spring

i am grateful
for the slush and for the flakes

light or heavy
as it falls interrupts anything dull

shows the universe
is full and more is being created

more blessings
more over everything



**

we meet but we are not strangers / no one is a stranger and nothing is unknown

we meet but we are not strangers
no one is a stranger and nothing is unknown
we are inventing games and stories
in every room we wish in the mansion of god
we might even say we are scared or sad
but when the time changes all is forgotten
god opens up the front door and all the windows
we are like birds and we zoom into the sky
what glory is the reaches of all possible flight
stars we navigate by are constantly renewed


no fear or signs or signals holding you back
every limit is gone every change is done
go weights measures or schedules or creeds
prohibited thou shalt not or do eclipsed
into the original state of mindful bliss


where every trail and path becomes same
and innocence begins again though in
that very state you see you never slipped
or erred



**

they say don't wait / i am not waiting

they say don't wait
i am not waiting
if it seems like i am

who waits for the sun
to rise each morning
we know it comes

when your eyes open
you see the light

the same is in hopes
for the heart assuredly
people come and go

sometimes they stay
they say don't wait
i am not waiting

if it seems like i am
i am not

letting go i go
coming to my senses
see the fields see the lakes

outside out of thoughts
what i was really waiting for
was this perfect bird

singing
with red on the shoulders



**

you can't give me the moment / i give it to myself

you can't give me the moment
i give it to myself

you can't take away where i am
i take it away from myself

you'll always inspire me
to be kind to those around me

that is why we need each other
when we walk the path



88

inside

time robs me of all my illusions
there is no happy ending

but then i disagree with myself
there is always a happy way to live

a sun sets and we both admire it
you happy in your way and i mine

inside we both have possibilities
beyond all conceptions


----

Minnesota
Spring 2018

that was 10 years ago/ when we were both alive

that was 10 years ago
when we were both alive
and nobody was going to die
planning and jiving
joking making books
getting into quarrels
with literary figures

today a white bank
of bright snow with
some mud on the top
of your grave the snow
so bright as sun jumps
from behind a cloud
it makes my eyes tear

i never noticed
the wildness of wind
never noticed
how many leaves
never noticed
the depth of sky
never noticed
the tallness of trees

until i stood at your grave


**

this spring morning / when i was waking up

this spring morning
when i was waking up
i was thinking about you
then i heard a voice
a voice said

'you have choices
and you can pick from
many kinds of light &
many kinds of darkness
so choose well
for you can pick any
kind'

i opened my eyes
i said a prayer for you
and a prayer for me
that we both awlays
pick the brightest
the best of all the light


___

3.24.18

show me the road

show me the road
when it is especially beautiful

so that i may take to it joyfully
and with best intentions

this is how we kind souls encourage
others to take up the path

promising beauty and surprises
taking us beyond any kind of death



**

with our own play

in one of your pictures
you balance something
on your head
with a kind
of humor and grace
that says pages and pages
of who you are
and how you feel
that this poem
will never reach
but the poet can say
when we are happy
and have such fun
other souls
people closed off
can open up
laugh and breath
as if we had saved
their very lives
with our own play


***

Reprise

he gets that light racy feeling
in his heart he might feel faint
when he looks at her/ but doesn't tell
how he feels
almost like a child who doesn't want to go
he wants to see her face every day
even if he just walks by and says "hello"

when they talked he tried not to stare
when they walked he managed to walk carefully
the time is passing/ their meeting
is ending
he is mindful of this and tries not to be mindful
their meeting is ending like running out of
food or water or whatever is irreplaceable

when she is gone he is quiet
as all men are when beauty has passed
not sad not desperate / and yet
there is missing
every avenue is strange every road is long
when they may meet again he hopes
but as for when he does not know


**

i try to remain but i'm barely here

i try to remain but i'm barely here
seldom did i arrive fully without being then
halfway gone into some other thought
or being as polite as i could manage waiting
for you to be done so i could speak my part

now remaining a bit easier as time
and toil removes objects and persons
brings in new baubles and takes more people
with less friends to talk to i see how i used them
when they were happy kind and willing

i wonder was i ever a true friend to these
the people i call friends or was i just warm
to the idea of companionship and the uses of
i read richard III's midnight address to himself
his mourning self assessments reproach affirmation

see i am such a like puppet to my own discussion
but for me i know there could be so much more
beyond the ideas if i was good friend or a villain
past the part of the party in gardens of delight
or one's youth is the only place to find such joys


**

sunday being peaceful and tranquil / free of nagging doubts or any fear

sunday being peaceful and tranquil
free of nagging doubts or any fear

the heart naturally rests and details arrive
what blessings we all have if we choose to see

a precious world

there's a backyard to gather with friends
by an arbor that will be full in spring

beyond this a field and rows of trees
then the river which will last forever

the snow starting to melt and a small stone fox
in the corner of the yard peeps out

to some trivial details like any other
but for the ones in gratitude

a precious world


***

=

Reprise

keep me more like
a little joyful bird in my heart

the kind of bird
that can play in any kind of sky

even the stormy ones
bouncy and fun


***

ag al da

ag al da
ef mo ad
oe gi xi
yo kex pya


__

at night she waits up

at night she waits up for her son
something mothers have been doing
for children always

father might say
'be home at midnight'
and 'here's the keys'

but mothers wait

her son comes home
he's happy a bit tired
just past twelve

says 'you don't need to stay up'
she smiles seeing him almost grown
in a warm lit space

her progeny home


____

Elk River

after a long day

after a long day it is nice to come home
put my feet up and even daydream

adding something to the coming dusk
imagining the red gold rays of the sun

congratulating everyone
and thing in town



**

keep me more like

keep me more like
a little joyful bird
in my heart

you see them
playing in any kind
of sky storm or calm

full of delight
that never ends
all day long

never weighed
down these larks
of happiness

free in any
kind of
sky


**

there is sleep / the kind that burns

there is sleep
the kind that burns
eventually forgets
then dreams come
about loss or new bodies
castles ruins churches
plateaus on the verge
of dry endless moutains
details that cut into the eye
brightness you can't look away from
details in detail in rivers of memories
recollections that aren't yours from others
stashes and jails and barns and valleys cold water
turning and going and returning and waiting and not knowing



xx

malta's red tower

malta's red tower
wrought iron balconies
below it floating on
tan stone walls

a brave flag
over the battlements

windows in zig zag
patterns of life
and death played
almost like a play

until night
the sound of the waves


***


malta's red tower
dedicated to st agatha
staunch like a lion
looking over the sea

a brave flag
over the battlements

terraces below
patterns of life
and death stones
stubble and thoughts

until night
the sound of the waves


***

let us go farther and farther

where is it the farthest
i want to reach it
let me not linger or doubt

any journey undertaken
has certain risks or dread
even the one we are on now

let us go farther and farther
if you see that horizon star
you might know me


*

If I Do the Right Thing

living a patient bourgeois life

living a patient bourgeois life
as time fritters my charms away
i read lamantia and his dreamlike horror
of all the surrounding implications
red lit clouds and the sky or rain
in the inner dissensions of things
the things that come next
like a searchlight can't stop
and whatever is in the beam
of the cone of light is death

poems offered to starving minds
offered to starving eyes offered like
clouds of offerings from a holy meal
that might be catered to in the nick
of time for motorcycles owls
in the inner dissensions of things

don't step out into the cold
for your share of horror
until you've been fed

__

for Latif Williams

you can have sugar water as pets

you can have sugar water as pets
snakes or loaves of bread as guards
keeping the safe place from ________
or any other hi flyer you don't like
because of their condemnations
and lack of real love feeling




**

there isn't any more there's us

there isn't any more there's us
we are and anything else is not
you might think the deus ex machina
is coming down through the clouds
but it is your mind that can't be hid
it is coming through in all directions
lights blazing trumpets playing
fireworks blasting sweet days bloom

because of you and us my what tall trees
what a sparkling lake under the ice
or a spring dawn kissing your face





**

Eagle Lake

there's a picture of you looking lost in a room

there's a picture of you looking lost in a room
holding a white tiger but you don't seem worried

you know you are in the right place
whatever happens next is perfect

the window above you shows a bright blue sky
sometimes it rains when it is clean

you're half turned away from the viewer
in motion
could be coming or going

when it all turns out just fine its clear
having or losing
is all the same if we are free


**

i stood at your doorway/ but you were gone

.... for captain beefheart &
.... 'the same ol blues'

i stood at your doorway
but you were gone

just like the song
wrote you a letter

you must have
read it wrong

other poets write
on the threshold

at night looking up
at blank windows

being full of tears
a story as old

as there have been
broken hearts

night sky stars
closed doors

and the separated
missing someone

as time goes on
you might forget

the doorway
and the person

but never
the feeling


**

we don't have to forget or remember anything

we don't have to forget or remember anything
we just keep seeing ultra clearly with no interruptions

we move gently lightly brightly through oceans of sleep

we travel together seeing speaking and being seen
that is how we find happiness beyond control


**

i hoped all of your lies and all of my lies would come together

i hoped all of your lies and all of my lies would come together
to become a enchanted castle of lies full of whimsy and finery
where we could live in style forever but it was not so
such things cannot be though you can try to perfect it
by being untrue as much as possible


**

at night when i get tired and it is late / i want to talk to you i always want to talk to you

at night when i get tired and it is late
i want to talk to you i always want to talk to you
it will never happen and it is okay but it is a bit sad too
all these causes and conditions and the intangibles that rule us
and beyond irony we think that we make conscious choices
when the impulses of most of our decisions are based
on whims or however we happen to think we feel at the time
then permanent set and ego testifies this is how we always have felt
nothing else matters and someone else will make us happy

someone else has the solution
we believe in with all our heart

to a problem that does not exist
never existed but we created


**

love is like money / you can't get it by wanting it

love is like money
you can't get it by wanting it
you have to earn it

it is a bad thing
when you don't know how
to work for love


**

i can't make it rain / or get you to love me

i can't make it rain
or get you to love me

like finding a desert
but wishing for an ocean

how can i complain
or be dissatisfied

wherever you travel
we are where we go






***

maybe you can teach me something i want to know

maybe you can teach me something i want to know
a lesson i've been praying to learn because i know how badly i need it
instructions that will ease my skillfulness and insistence on creating drama
seeing everything and everyone as how i want them to be not how they are
because talent i have for this and inventiveness to color in and out of the lines
skill i have to attribute drama and plot pacing the rising and falling of stars
to conjure people out of shadows and significance from incomplete delusions
is a misery

the end of the day
me here and you there
a great moon rising into the dark sky
getting brighter as the sky darkens

i cross the dark space
into a bright series of rooms
and everyone i know there
has seen how big the moon is



*

your thoughts like dogs getting into a kitchen

your thoughts like dogs getting into a kitchen
rooting & getting at all the food on the counters
ruining the meal for everyone who waited
even you and all the bounty you gathered
into yourself you trampled and slobbered over

the untrained thoughts we run with
mind slipping past and all the mischief
this exuberant savagery revels to create
rebellious purposes and justified revenge
later causing weeping and isolation

turn from the braying of the world
braggarts would have you be like a dog
flinging treasure onto the ground
despoiling your own self
as you try to outrun death



****

i won't confuse you by talking in code / but i am trying to elude my own committee

i won't confuse you by talking in code
but i am trying to elude my own committee
my own rectifiers certifiers and checkers
that perform search and destroy missions
to eradicate communication and personalities
from the purity and whimsy of the subconscious

we all born with this galactic channel of bliss
beating behind the beating of our heart
the color of the color behind the eyes
insistent and spontaneous full of surprises
full of challenge and revealing play and kindness
lifting us out of the tyranny of ego and will

yet expunged expunged denied expunged
explained blunted broken burned
electro shocked removed crafted curtained

through this we discovered
and those who would cure us
it cannot be shut nor turned

if it is universal and true
the seat of every expression

in the center of all directions
it cannot be trained nor tinned


^^^

go to the highest height / eat sliver and gold

go to the highest height
eat sliver and gold
is your culture holding you down
take geophysical readings
find the context by extending

on an early day
unwrap you eyes from cotton
unhinge your eyes from snow
go to the magic cafe
lay the marble tea
find context from the poets

your culture lied to you
about silver and gold
about what is higher and lower

you are under the earth
your eyes are buried
in stratification and a feature

find an early day
full of golden light inviting
escape your own will

escape silver and gold
break out from the cafe
say fuck off to your culture

make the oaths accountable
only to who matters you

wisdom the day out heart
and mind out of forges

endlessly higher

meet the stars



**

true mania cannot see proofs for its own self

true mania cannot see proofs for its own self
i am the maniac who thinks they are even-keeled
i swear i am largely unoffensive and mild
but i crackle with energy and am always disruptive
offended toward what i think is boring or superfluous
which actually are just examples of consideration
towards others and how they deserve to be treated
with compassion gentleness and dignity




***

sunday afternoon before 3 / a few flakes of snow fall

sunday afternoon before 3
a few flakes of snow fall

the cat sleeps curled up
i read other people's poetry

it is a forgetting of self
a release like looking at snow flakes

reading another poet
now again hearing people

in the apartment above
creaking creaking walking shuffling

bumping banging shifting creaking
thumping walking

putting on a cd of music
sounds above move to the background

in all this there is a mantra
that is very specific for what i notice

...  whatever sounds are heard
...  be they pleasant or annoying

...  hear them as sounds of emptiness
...  remain in that state without judgment

i am connected so intimately
with every sense and creature perceived

every person i am with in poems
snow cats music and walkers above

**

realm of desire / land of no fear

realm of desire
land of no fear
put something before me

another house
another face
another form

so i may burn it to ashes
with the fire in my eyes
furnace of my brain



****

put something before me / another face

put something before me
another face
so i may burn it to ashes
with the fire in my eyes and the
furnace of my brain

isn't this the way we go
to destruction ourselves
turned from breathing
warm flesh with feelings
to nothing at all

in the crucible of
electronic exchanges
humanity now
string of numbers
sterile signals

back into patterns
meaningless stacked
endlessly
atoms emptiness
void

none of us were disposable
none of us were forgettable
none of us were cliche
or useless
or undesirable



***

this day for today

this day for today
has no set form we can have it
any way we want it to be

you could say it started
with a tear or a hurrah
and kept going that way

let us be vigilant then
true awake bright and here
today a persistent perfection

if you have bad cares
let the day convince you
it should be otherwise

do it through yourself
with a kind thought or smile
for you and someone else

winnowing out all errant
untamed and random wild
we become more reasonable

even to ourselves
even to the sky even to you
even to what is wild


***

let go to hold on

let go to hold on
hold on by seeing

there is very little
that must be done

what must be done
is already in doing



**

what a blessing to feel there are blessings to be had

what a blessing to feel there are blessings to be had
for having courage to even make peace with doubts
then nothing needs to be altered or be different
may it change or be the same however it may be
because you and i are the gatekeeper and we are the gate
we see a desert space bereft of all hope or a holy field farflung
indeed became full when we allowed ourselves to be included


***

on monday morning it is snowing which means

on monday morning it is snowing which means
everything is perfect and nothing needs to be changed
traffic will go slower but who cares when we can watch
a new world be created that turns into a fairyland over all
which was rough or dirty or too familiar now becomes palaces
for the eye to admire all the twigs decorated with ice crystals
offerings extending into infinity the wonder it can be


***

we take few risks rarely budge for our small orbits

we take few risks rarely budge for our small orbits
social media and text have made us shadows to each other
you or i could be anything like silhouettes cast on the wall
the work of inventive hands -- as a dove as a wolf as angel or savior
or just telling tales and fancies with symbols and charms
that eventually are false because there is no substitute
for the presence of another who might honestly meet us halfway

alas the heart shrivels
in the vacuum of this space

i am the electronic ozymandias
look upon my works and feel nothing


**

god take me there and keep me there if you can all the days of my life

i don't understand anything do you?
i can merely report what i seem to be seeing and what i choose
the freeway is flowing along smoothly this late afternoon
the customary speed when dusk is coming
adjacent field has the last bit of sunshine flung out
all the reeds above a snowy ice covered pocket lake
with a charming wall of clouds in the background
even a few birds in the sky like thoughts in my mind
blissfully unconnected with details on this slice of awarenss
to stay just in seeing without any thoughts connected
only in awareness of things as they are and not how i'd like them to be
god take me there and keep me there if you can all the days of my life


888

the company and you

the company rips your mind out and stomps on it
you accept this because you've been socialized
to be a good worker and keep your chin up no matter what
if you complain you won't be able to get another job
but there is no reward to being a good worker
the only rewards go to the company run by investors
girted in the armor of algorithms
nor care about anything real in the world

the company gets rid of you with an offer you cannot refuse
you accept this because you're human ballast
but you thought you were something else

you are money houses cars yard pool revenge tie and dining
you are vacation hawaii dancing sessions prep school martyrdom
you are liar oil popping time waster subordinate grinding angry face
you are excuses fucker private prison bitcoin bitch investor wannabe

girted in the armor of what could have been
and what illusions could be
nor care about anything real in the world


---

here are pictures of me 1,000 years ago

here are pictures of me 1,000 years ago
when i was young and we breathed outside
on the place called earth that you say does not exist
or is a fairy tale or fantasy to instruct and warn
the little ones to conserve energy and think twice

in the pictures you'll notice i am not made of chrome fibers
that i had a body of flesh and bone made in a womb
no multidimensional quantum bubbles no scintillating synapses
no ocean we all share of calculation and sensations
yes we were separate from each other

separation that almost doomed us
it perverted all our thinking from wholesome outcomes
we lived in fear because of our bodies and couldn't surrender
when earth was almost destroyed we were removed
here are pictures of me 1,000 years ago




***

towards end of day / i can see

towards end of day
i can see
a shaft of sunlight
across the field
illuminates
the tops of reeds
and a light pole
straight and bright

farther back
in the landscape
rows of cars drive
towards
the edge of light
like the pole
signifies a barrier

past is death

but they drive on to it
cars drive past it
they don't know
don't know
live or dead
they don't know

-----

Minnetonka
1.16.18

let it keep snowing / and i'll play jazz records

let it keep snowing
and i'll play jazz records

tree branches will wave
in stray gusts of wind

the cat will be fascinated
with racing squirrels getting food

may it snow intricately
fulsomely ensorcelly continuously

let it keep snowing

and i'll play jazz records


_____


Osseo

more beautiful snow this bright morning / this time the flakes are bodhicitta

more beautiful snow this bright morning
this time the flakes are bodhicitta

zig-zagging back and forth loving absolutely without limit
everything above in the sky and below on this earth

i naturally think of you being loved by the snow
on this white still bright day


----

Osseo
Eagle Lake

true dharma makes us / want to shout

refusal
to challenges

brings
same results

arrogance
boredom

tedium
restlessness

true
dharma

makes us
want to shout

and
annihilate

our
illusions



**

you believe you live in a fortress / with a commanding view of all the world

you believe you live in a fortress
with a commanding view of all the world
and everyone in it

you think you are secure
with all the means and freedoms to succeed
through your will

but you live in a prison
that you made yourself and there is no vista
you can see no one

from time to time
you notice how small your cell is becoming
and go deeper into dreams

you suffer but you think
someone else is responsible
for a granting of parole

what a pitiful state
to be a prisoner in your own mind
and not surrender

all are lost in will
all imprisoned ego's slaves
until we let go


**

when it snows i don't think of anyone

when it snows i don't think of anyone
i don't miss someone

i watch the snow fall and the wind blow
free of everything

so content it takes an effort to believe
i'm here in this body

if i do remember you i'm instantly glad
and i don't miss you

you're here for a little bit and then gone
i don't hold onto anything

as long as it is snowing
i am free of my own mind

am and see
no difference



**

fond thoughts go nowhere/ yet i still believe in them

fond thoughts go nowhere
yet i still believe in them
and i still send them

i owe you a great debt
kindness you did for me
a long time ago

so i believe
you'd want me
to keep my heart warm

these words
like pebbles
into a great division

seeming endless
yet can be filed up
someday

in any case
there is no end
we are never separated

above or below
time are just illusions
and we are at play





**

my words
like martlets

merrythoughts
beyond douceur

cantillations
orectic to you



**