Big Day

Nowhere going today,

no visions expected.

In the sun at 10 a.m. i can sleep

if i like and i do.


No heeding calls today,

no first-hand observationing.

I in the sun at 2 p.m. i can sleep

if i like and i do, i don't, i do,

Oil Train along the Casselman

Casselman River near Pinkerton. Click to expand.

Music of the river and the music of the train

one score rolling to you on the bridge

purling wail and thumping rail

the tumble and erode of energy to burn

going for broke and tankered black

no proud name lest the river

flash to flame lest the land explode

lest the echo of consumption

turn the mist to smoke.

Even Though

Please enlarge with a click.

   

The nascent woods has its pointillist splendor.

Here a silence could me made, a place

where i could ask to be left alone, even

though i wished for the company of a brighter sun.

A Nearly Perfect Poem

Look.

The moon.

Unhindered Moon

    

Unhindered moon,

Numbness registered the shock.

Why do we think adding means increase?

To me it means dilution.

Our assumptions we think truest

Warp tight-stuck like doors,

More a style our lives bring with them,

Habit for a while. Then suddenly

They harden into all we've got.

—condensed from Larkin's "Dockery and Son"

Argument

Please enlarge by clicking.

Days in early May it little matters

How many disappointments

Friendship proffers.

The pear tree blooms.

I hear the bees.

That's all i offer.

Mantra at an Angle

   

Going out to meet the day sideways,

its ghosts and fates running in the field,

childlike with their tresses sunlit in the breaks

between the organizing clouds, instructing me.

Words could be a way to keep yourself unbroken,

poetry the only way to keep an angle to the world.

I say them then to the wind that smells of rain,

More me here now alive.

More me here now alive.

Bean Counting

This is life beyond the wire,

the deep reality of things that matter most,

or at all, when consciousness is summed

and the accountants of joy have made their report:

the willow pitching its chartreuse tent

over the underground spring,

the vivified flies strafing in harmony,

the drum circle of pileates claiming their territory,

the sarvis berry blooming when you weren't looking,

distracted by nothing of substance — say income,

say achievement, say recognition — small beans

at the end, under a comfort of cumulus.

Sarvis