9/22/2004

I walked

into the bar

at an ungodly

early hour

because

it was

the only place

open

where I could get

a cup of coffee

which

wasn’t a problem

and

there she was

pretty in pink

and famous

as she could be

a songbird

sitting on the floor

throwing a

handful of small dice

like jacks

then translating

the outcome

into words

and phrases

she typed into

the laptop

in front of her

a

freely chosen gamble

humming to herself

and

with my

hot coffee in

one hand

I

sat down on

the vacant crate

next to her

introduced myself

again

having met her

once

many years ago

and quickly

ran out of

anything worthwhile

to say

wishing her well

not wanting to intrude

on her work

without cause

but

unable to move along

without first

paying my respects.

9/21/2004

Once

I heard

the noise

from outside

I knew

it had been

going on for

some time

censored

until now

and when I

opened the door

and

walked through

I was in

a world

changed

dramatically

and

unexpectedly

many laborers

doing their jobs

knowledgeably

their

many offspring

looking on

speechless

unusual for children

an excavation

the size of

a small

ancient civilization

where before

one could easily

drive up to

the house

park

get out

and

come inside

without difficulty

a river

rushing into

the open hole

not unlike the

Tigress

and Euphrates

as I

upbraided

the man in charge

not sure why

I was angry

my heart

not in the effort

though

put out

that

I had not

been told

what was afoot

surely entitled

with

the work under way

at home

a failure

to communicate this

a breach of

professional conduct

the jefe

looking at me

with incomprehension

as if

this were

a commission

I

could not have

forgotten about

and

it seemed to me

I knew

all would be

put right

when the work

was done

everything

beneath ground

reconfigured

for the better

the extent of my grasp

of

this reality.

9/16/2004

Half boy

half prodigy

smiling joyously

he

sweeps up

the deck of cards

as he

crosses the room

shuffling them

in mid air

a demonstration

worthy

of an audience

arriving

at the table

ready to deal

knowing that

skill

in a game

of chance

is no guarantee

of winning

luck

having felled giants

eager to best him.

9/15/2004

A ghost of

his former self

he is still

a force

to be reckoned with

when I meet him

between

the wrappings of

a life's work

able to teach me

many things

I need to know

slipping them into

my

circulatory system

so I

needn't be concerned

by what I

don't quite understand.

9/14/2004

Not yet a man

no longer a boy

he met her

on the battlefield

at the end

of the war

her hair short

posing as

a young man

on the opposing side

luck of the draw

becoming lovers

at

a perilous time

and

when she knew

she

had to leave

or fall into

the hands of enemies

he was too young

to understand

what she had

already learned

saying

he would

go with her

delaying her departure

long enough

that

both were caught

and

though there was

no longer anything

to fight about

his people

would not let him

go to her

standing before him

young and lovely

in her filthy

rags of war

their eyes

on one another

helpless

when

a short burst

of jealous 
automatic gunfire

destroyed her

in front of him

past

present

and future

bloodied forever

what was unnecessary

irrelevant.

9/12/2004

Circumstances

are such

that

anything might

set me off

the trigger

releasing

a flow of

unleavened malice

into my bloodstream

making me

a danger

to anyone

around me

loved ones

becoming

embodiments of

their

worst shortcomings

deserving

what they get

and

lying in bed

with

the lights off

I am ready to be

this

venomous person

forever.

9/5/2004

Don’t know

how

it came about

he said

thinking

a respite

had been arrived at

until he

looked more closely

seeing

he had

taken beauty hostage

again

and was treating her

pornographically

not

he would swear

on anyone's life

his desire

or intention

but his actions

are there

for all to see

troubling

this lapse

into violation

of what he cherishes.

9/4/2004

The slaughtered

were the entrée

again today

the special

a serving of children

satisfying some ideology

or derangement

difficult

to know the difference

those giving orders

getting the same 
results

for reasons

dressed up as noble

while

hiding dirty secrets

with bloodstained hands

and

off in the distance

stand those

most outraged

their response

premeditated

serving well

the black holes

where their souls

used to be

while small bodies

and the mangled lives

they leave behind

are wept over

and soon forgotten

making way

as

we have always done

for yet another reminder

of our capabilities.

9/2/2004

In the last light

of summer

fearing

the slow fall

into winter

when the body

insists on

curling into sleep

plans for

a better world

shelved ‘til spring

leaves little time

to succeed or fail

before

it is again too late

until next year.

8/30/2004

I am

alive and well

but reminded

again

this morning

after

sleeping soundly

through the night

unusual enough

that

I cannot remember

when

I didn’t know

I was going to die

and

while I hope

to be ready

when

my turn comes

the sadness and grief

in the pit

of my stomach

which will pass

I know

as I

attend to the day

measure time

more poignantly

than I would like.

8/28/2004

I suspect there is

as much separation

between

what is God’s

and what is Caesar’s

as there is between

body and soul

heads and tails

but

the failure to see

the difference between

full worth

and what one can

get away with

will decide whether

we sink or swim.

8/24/2004

Time changes

everything

but

on this day

at this hour
and this moment

her bottom

moves the seat

of her pants

as she walks

like a theatre

in the round.

8/24/2004

It was

only yesterday

that

a monologue of despair

detailing the difficulty

in meeting my needs

passed my lips

no help from

the meek

mild

or avenging

forthcoming

a lamentation was

the best I could do

but

that night

on hearing a story

about an old woman

who likes to

get out and about

but no longer can

without help

and her son

who

lovingly protects her

from all harm

as best he can

feeling guilty

when she gets hurt

as happens

despite his best efforts

though

in the story

when chaperoned

in her wheelchair

on an outing

by a close

and trusted friend

of her son’s

she

foolishly jumps about

with such force

she

falls over backward

bumping her head

which bleeds

as bumped heads

can do

though she is

not otherwise hurt

and unconcerned

but because

she understands

if her son finds out

as he will

he will suffer

unnecessarily

nothing she says

changing that

she asks

her son’s friend

to whom he listens

if

he feels guilty

for what was

clearly

her own doing

to which

he says no

only concern

and

a little blood

from

a scalp wound

doesn’t seem like much

to him

a story

I did not

fully understand

though the moral

seemed clear

that

being alive

and getting around

as best we can

no matter how careful

we may be

will always involve

some foolishness

leading to trouble

but rarely

so bad

we need berate ourselves

for an outcome

human nature guarantees

just enough truth

to ease my mind

for a while

when I awake.

8/24/2004

Adultery
is for couples
some married
some not
for some
evident worldliness
for others
causing heartbreak
and then
there are those
who die
terrible deaths
for their actions
everywhere
in the world.

8/24/2004

I overheard
an old woman
swaddled in wrinkles
say to others
of her kind
I couldn’t get over
their story
I never heard
such a thing before
and
the others agreed
proof
some people
don’t get out much.

8/24/2004

I sat on the sand
looking at the lake
at the climbers
on the cliff face
at the woman
a white scarf
covering her head
skinning a stick
with a long knife
like the trick
was old hat
beneath big clouds
navigating blue sky
then
turned in time
to see
a black bear
had shuffled
out of the forest
onto the beach
no cause for alarm
room for everyone
I said
under my breath
reaching
for the camera
I nearly left behind
on my last day
in the high country
where the predictable
can be interrupted
at any time
by anything.

8/23/2004

After
shopping around
and with the gunshots
of slamming doors
going off
next to my head
as people
come and go
death picking up
where life leaves off
I have decided
though love
may not be
the best buy
on market day
with atrocities
and an aptitude for
reliably poor choices
readily available
I see nothing
more likely to improve
one’s perspective
at any given minute
and
do not think
I have overlooked
the many fine uses
to which money
can be put.

8/22/2004

I have
seen the day
from departures beneath
a cold gray scree
of cloud
to a sunset of
pink smeared blue
and what I feel
immeasurably exceeds
what I know
and can say
about myself
all else
and the weaving
of you and me.

8/22/2004

I broke bread
with a man
whom small talk
lead me to guess
correctly
was a scientist
of the kind
we all hope to meet
now and then
and
when we discussed
what it means
to be a poet
at this time
in these parts
I was led
step by step
to realize
that the undertaking
is to find a voice
that feeds the hunger
of many
for vittles
that have a habit
of disappearing
as soon as
one sits down
to eat
when
the mere mention
of such ambition
can precipitate
blood letting hostility
so violated is
our faculty for words
we can trust
bringing news
we can’t live without.

8/20/2004

She
went to bed
late
and was
unable to sleep
a troublesome knot
she
failed to undo
despite
considerable patience
and
comparable effort
danced free
of her will
reveling in
its temporal victory.

8/20/2004

Where
we are going
requires
leaving behind
a patch of green
in the desert
the mountains
accessible
using
an easy trail
past trees that lay
as they were
when they fell
three hundred and fifty
years ago
already
four thousand years old
walking in thunder
no light from above
then
settling into cloth saddles
astride two-humped camels
that carry us
to the foot of
the flaming cliffs
we arrive in time
for a toast
and jamboree
of archery
wrestling
and
three hundred children
on horseback
racing one another
into the distance
and back again
glad
to be alive.

8/15/2004

Listening
attentively
I hear words
spoken for
the sake of speaking
nothing more
snatches of music
false enthusiasm
ships passing
not much curiosity
everything crackling
beneath the surface
and one man
almost unnoticed
entrusting the secret
of his future
to
a handful of bystanders
not an innocent
among them
who
recognizing the occasion
accept his offer
with the utmost regard
for his destiny.

8/8/2004

He entered
the underworld
aboard
a small train
and though
no one else
appeared aware
of where they were
as if all frames
of reference
had been forgotten
he was relieved
when they emerged
from the darkness
into the light
the train climbing to
a magnificent
architectural work
in which he
expected to find
exceptional works of art
discovering instead
the suppressed physicality
of a mausoleum
which seemed to explain
why certain turns
in history
had been taken
interesting but insufficient
to slow his retreat from
all that had
never been allowed.

8/7/2004

You sit
still and quiet
the shifting land masses
and relocated oceans
beneath your skin
as the world
again changes shape
all you are expected
to contend with
at present
besides cleaning the house
doing the laundry
and having your cat
put to sleep
perhaps to dream
perhaps not.

8/5/2004

I
met the troll
by accident
or
so it seemed
at the time
and though surprised
to see
he was wearing
gold rimmed glasses
an anomaly
that ameliorated
his repugnance
his friendship was
even more unexpected
but
his thick skin
a genetic blessing
made it possible
for him to tell me
unorthodox things
about survival
and prosperity
without distress
when
I initially recoiled
his failure to charm
soon giving way to
the gift of candor
my appeal for him
that of
the receptive student
a troll rarely gets.

8/3/2004

He moved
wrenched and disjointed
by the severe beating
that
taught him what
he had to know
when
a man and woman
came upon him
walking the streets
alone
in the dark
early morning
and
came to his rescue
settling him
in the spacious
bottom floor
of a tall
vacant building
due for renovation
an accommodation
he could not pay for
he said
though the rent
was nominal
the couple
assuring him
something
could be worked out
which seemed to
settle matters
for soon
his paintings
were suspended
in mid air
by thin wires
hanging from the ceiling
throughout the
length and breadth
of his new living space
wordless spirits
at rest in
their new home.

7/31/2004

They say
no one is ever
truly alone
and that
we are all alone
in the end
both sayings reliable
solitude
a precious thing
like
those we care about
and the solace
their presence brings.