Poetry for Scientists
------------------------------- So and So Decomposed There was a Cupid's heart carved in a tree long ago. When the tree died, the earth rushed in letting the arrow go, taking with it two names, forever. ******* Interiors December 27, 1998 Yesterday this yard was a blank page. Today there are clues to a story. It's plain to see: prints in the snow left by creatures who have business in the night. I can't let it lie there-- here I wait at midnight. I'm looking for causes and intersections, the inside story. Waiting, I contemplate the speed of darkness, darkness that just is, without source. Darkness that claims time and space, before light began. I'm here to see the creatures of the night, that's all. They'll speak for themselves. These are not mere tracks in the snow. This is the account of forest commerce. ******* Do you know the reason why keys get along so well on keychains? Because they have holes in their heads. ******* All in Good Time Boulders wait patiently... Slowly in their turn they become their sons and daughters. Rocks, stones, pebbles will be their grandchildren. Dust, their final witness. Up stems they run and through boughs, on their way to becoming us. ******* When we attempt to describe the grandeur of being, we need to use up all the words, past, present and future. Sentences convolute and heads ache, giving birth to a new revelation. ******* A time machine to the present, your breath. ******* 12/18/09 The optimist said: I expect the best thing to happen all the time. Am I ever disappointed? All the time. ******* Straightman 7/2/09 It wasn't a Big Bang. It was uproarious laughter. The second great act of the Creator was the knock knock joke. We get to say, who's there? ******* Microwave Conversations August 13, 1995 Microwave conversations quick and lean. We hold timeless in something namelessly real. Emptiness fills with grounding-- the connection I need to make this Sunday morning. My old dog is sick again. The tax bill arrived, but the paper didn't. I still have this coffee and toast. We put them to sleep, we put them down. The morning shadows are leaning toward the cold angles of Fall. Sunflowers in the garden smile at me like children in a play. I worry I may be losing my sense of humor, and wonder if I'm covered for that. They're put out of their misery. We lay them to rest. He can barely wobble up the steps. My friends hold an intervention. The light is disappearing from his eyes leaving only love. If I pet him, he buckles beneath the weight of my affection. He no longer hears me and still we speak. The sun has cleared the tops of the trees. A part of me gets left behind and can't pass into this day. He shakes and shivers. This won't be his last Sunday morning God damn it! ******* |
Poems from the Heart
------------------------------- Garden Grace Thanksgiving 1981 Thank you Lord for growing this food for us from your seeds and your ground. You rained down upon it and gave it life. In our repast, we hold hands and smile across the table to watch you partake of this bounty. Amen. ******* 12/27/03 Better than these words are these thoughts. Better than these thoughts are these feelings. Better than these feelings are these feelings. ******* Is Rape and Pillage a Bad Thing? 11/26/03 Has anyone who lived in the forest asked: If a tree makes a sound when it falls if no one is there to hear it? When they look up, do they consider an explosion to be the beginning? Might they discuss the passage of time at the speed of light? Well that maybe... These convolutions of logic are born of idle bodies, that settle and sag into one place. The luxury of our contorted way of living leads to the superfluous. A distracted awareness is a weak pillar. If the last tree fell and hit a civilized man in the head, would he know it? ******* Thirst 8/15/03 Like hungry bees we dive inside looking for nectar. When you fold yourself around us, is the best. ******* Hound dogs on the scent of the divine. ******* The Last Interloper 2003 The church introduced me to the devil. The temples to guilt. Make a list; you follow? These bittersweet interlopers mean well. Even the History Channel. But when we travel inside ourselves, we get to trade attention for peace. We barter time for bliss. We sell mind and body for soul. Not a bad bargain. We mean well, sacrificing the gifts we've been given for something much greater. I, the last interloper. ******* Joy Crystals 3/6/03 A pale snowstorm within me has turned into a blizzard. Buried in pure white blindness, one snowflake is a blessing. ******* 8/27/03 Green consciously fades into Fall. Flowers succumb to gentle persuasion. When we are finally convinced love is lost, we stumble on shadows, fall on our knees. A special wind then comes to blow us away, and light becomes darkness, and day becomes night. ******* What's the American tender? Cash? No. Soft and sweet, fragrant compassionate love is at the center of the center of things. No one can change that, not even the weak willed. ******* Iceberg 2/14/14 The way we hide ourselves. If all were spoken and above the icy veneer, one would see that water is water. ******* |
Observations
------------------------------- Potato Koan Koan 8/20/03 Mr. potato Head clouds assemble in the sky. A mustache, a nose... drift by: the face he had before he was born. See his one hand clapping! He Doesn't Push the River That He Is is his original name. ******* Clipping the wings of the mind allows the heart to soar. Sucks for the bird though. ******* Pyramids How could anything good come from slave labor? ******* Hundreds of auditions: the path to one's part. ******* They watched me fall and take the bumps and bruises and grow up. I watched them take the bumps and bruises and fall, and grow old. ******* A vast ocean washes onto a shore deep within, perpetually sounding a melodic tide that rises from a current sublime, ever moving ever here, ever distant ever near. ******* Going Out of Business September 20, 1977 I have no business here. I don't remember choosing to be. No one asked me. There's only one game in town: get to the source of this expedition, the broker of the experience, the one who booked the passage. Because, what's next? ******* December 1978 You can win a heart with love only. You can win over the mind with anything. ******* Rings January 1981 It took fifty years to grow this tree. Count em. See its circular account of the world, offspring of roots, raindrops and radius. It marries the sun at the center. ******* October 1981 Where distraction ends, creativity becomes the splendor of unity. ******* A little girl becomes bigger by carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Under the bulk of her grandmother's clothes, she looks comically smaller and they laugh and laugh. This is the way she distracts them from hurting themselves. ******* K.A. December 25, 1979 Her tears fall on the American flag. It's still made of cotton; not much left that's real these days. She clutches the flag like someone is inside it; because it's so empty and she's so full of sorrow, weeping. They both just did their duty. He went, and she let him. ******* February 22, 1980 Beyond the horizon and above the clouds, the sun always shines, even in the night. ******* Trench Coat Collar Up The wind blows a message loud and clear. The sun doesn't mince words either. But what is it about rain that makes it so mysterious? ******* |