if you put me in charge of everything 

you will be disappointed

do you want to be disappointed

Poem - all the curse words

all the curse words

for this year

used up 

but i was the cause

to start with 

what a savage

savage world view

to feel a curse 

even once 

would work

>>>

Poem - the skies promise stars

the skies promise stars

we get plenty of them 

how the universe loves us

this autumn night millions

every conceivable path 

your feet touching them 

dipping your toes in

a midnight lake

**

Poem - in the blue bathrobe in the rain

in the blue bathrobe in the rain

up to your elbows in water

trying to get the drain unstuck

at the base of the driveway 

there are some thing you will remember

the weight of the robe soaking wet

seeing the mark above the garage

where you knocked bikes off a rack

***

oh what a charming stream 
passed over by me but not to itself 
i was here or there blocked by thoughts
concerned amazed by silly asides

while stream never moved it just flowed
leaves in it by day rippling stars at night 
through meadows of grass and many copses of trees 

a pleasant scene of a pleasant stream 

the mind conquered and the soul reminded

by the stream that as all our plans are like leaves

that it takes and makes disappear round the bend 

around another bend and so on till all is gone

They mark it DEAD END
But I call it a the start of something new
For at your feet begins a meadow 
Full of tunnels of dew and leaves still green 
And if you go further you find a stream 
Whose waters and shimmering sands
Glint coldly gold and silver specks 
Alive with sleeping fish nature’s body 

Poem - shhh! do not speak

shhh! do not speak

the moment is so delicately poised

like a tiger about to pounce 

like a candle could go out 

==

I dream I am in back my routine job in Heaven, and God has lots of things to say because it is Monday

I dream I am in back my routine job in Heaven, and God has lots of things to say because it is Monday. When I wake up I can't remember what my job is in Heaven, but I dream about it from time-to-time. 

But back to the dream:

"Take a look at all these new fish." says God.

I look at them. 

"I want you to sort them just like the other ones before, OK?"

"Gotcha." I say. 

"You sure you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes sir."

God isn't sure but he's willing to let me do my best.

"I'm going to round up some angels to do some encouraging in Brest by 4 O'Clock."

"That sounds nice."

"Doesn't it? It will be fine. I'll be back when you're done with the fish. We might paint rain this afternoon, so it is nice and silvery."

Before I can reply, God puts on his grey sweater and heads across the cool white room of clouds and out the door full of moonbeams and pillars of sunshine. 

Poem - he stood there in the play area hood up

he stood there in the play area sweatshirt hood up 

dressed in blue and gray and black

watchful and hostile for some reason 

while his wife or girlfriend pushed a little girl in a swing

he kept watching to see if anyone would look at him 

and he'd push an empty child's swing 

next to the swing his child was swinging in back and forth 

sometimes the full swing and the empty swing 

would be swinging at the same time in the 

same direction 

**

Poem - for every threat or every other normal thing

for every threat or every other normal thing

here is this day striven out with dereliction or grace

that converts strain into sudden pleasure and stain into meaning

emotional pleas from trees black bark and yellowing leaves

not so many going now to fall but soon a waterfall of reds and yellows

every street and alley canyons of hue and the mind begotten anew

more days in there with duty or sloth patched or sundered 

whittled down like droplets of ink into a black story of a black night 

or unexpectedly lifted when every angel's plea is detected 

***

Poem - it is foggy but

it is foggy but 

keep walking forward like you know what you are doing

the trail is slick and you are alone as you go you can't go back

but you pretend at the end of the walk there is no sense of loss

go in and boil water 

put away stray groceries and make sure everything is placed 

as if you are on a ship bound for the northwest passage

the sky the ice a milky hue one and the same with the sea

memories like waves 

how you thought it would be impossible to make such a way

to be alone on a path in the fog with children far away

on their own walk and their own voyages you do not take

----

Poem - normal spacing

normal spacing in fall

seen through one window

one room one couch

three paintings

eight pillows two throws

one ottoman one tray

two mugs one glass of water

18 sheets of paper 2 written on one crumpled

eight pieces of mail one post-it

six pens 1 pencil 

two cats one girlfriend

one boyfriend four books

two newspapers

three smart phones

(one that is used as a clock)

----

florida street south

Poem - oh you know, to go on

oh you know, to go on

to write on 

it takes courage and a bit of sut

stu

stupidity or stubbornness

even some humor don't you see

---

robert nye

robert nye

wrote poems about fresh bread tears and the moon's hair

words about singing and bedeviling his wife

as a novelist 

wanted to be remembered as a poet

think of all the vaunted things you want to be remembered for

would it be for silliness

imperfections and tall tales 

or how numbers ideals and guns mowed down people justifiably 

 a

poem 

owed

to whom?

to someone.

everything you see you do not own

everything you see you do not own

if you think you posses it 

it is merely passing though your hands

and you have no hands 

**

we are all not so simple

to be summed up as only 1 thing

but people do this all the time

with personal opinions

**

you are as big as a mountain

you are as small as a flea

all at the same time

in the same way 

---

he's gone/ we are going

he's gone

we are going

we'll all be gone

and it is sad

but we were 

never here

to begin with 

just vibrancy 

elation emptiness

as stable and

continuing as

fireworks and

hammer strokes

sparks and 

stars 

888

i think

i think

someone hopes

their screams will 

cover my whole life

and smother me

which shows

i shouldn't

take seriously

anything 

i can think 

..

where does

invented dread

come from?

from the one

who dreads.

that could be for us too

the tree was over 80 years old

vast with leaves yet fading

it had a broad strong side

on the other a great wound

cracked open

for many years 

weakness spreading

through the branches

a limb yielding from high up

smashed to earth 

so today cut down sawdust

all i can think of is impermanence

also a deep pang of regret

for such a giant beautiful thing 

sighing and swaying

rustling and billowing 

stout sentinel no more

and so one day all of us 

still look closer though

in the grass 

tiny shoots of the same tree

ever revealing new life

that could be for us too

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 

**

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 

_____

7.10.20

planet earth