Poems

So many things are so many things. Is there one thing that is just one thing? If so, name such a singularity.

So limited, the alphabet, so few letters, only 26. Twenty six, for god’s sake. Can you believe it? What can be said with a maximum of two dozen plus two? Think of how much more could be said with only a few letters more. Or thoughts we could have in the noisy silence...

In the beginning, the old beginning. the first ship sailed. Then, a next beginning, a new ship, same captain and crew. A destination without rival unraveled. No arrival. Other ships have sailed. fresh starts followed by decay. Again, we begin the next beginning, new...

Sun scream, moon sob, caught between voices, earth echoes earth does not sing.

“Poems are never finished - just abandoned” Paul Valery Only write unfinished poems. To finish, a poem would need to be finite, complete in and of itself. Definitely defined. Poems are not finite, they are infinite, always done being done. The poet builds a spacious...

Don’t flicker or flit, land, linger     steady     on, come to rest in nearness. Soak, a sponge in the sea of the world. Like God early in the first week, ‘let,’           ‘allow’ Recognize what becomes significant, a sign of presence, an erotic moment with Being, the...

I am not discontinuous with the mountain, with the forest, with the sea. They are not out there. I am not in here. I have been taught a divisive language as if my eyes were windows look out -  [there] look at   -  [that] look in   -  [here] I make a mental effort to...

Sometimes an eyelash can irritate an eye even more than watching an atrocity.