now i can write the Poem
one: Letters from
once primitive symbols
an alphabet as accepted as
day's transition
to twilight then night.
two: Good that English exported
Sparrows to this country--
how two soft r's deep in chest;
the ending w extending breath
sustains the species.
three: Street musician breaks song
rubs nose
recalling Bach's violin
partitas echoing within Barcelona's
Gothic Quarter...Find now
me possessing two places,
transported by memory to past present.
Walking on hot coals could not char my feet,
nor few pennies in pocket
help either of them musicians much
as my appreciation for their playing.
four: What a solemn poem.
Why so gentle
in such a callous world?
Many social inequities and injustices
can be listed yet
why heap redundance on readers? Today
is my love most even repugnant odor
that passes before me.
Cause may be this first warm rain of Fall.
five: ....
now i can write, but, Poem
One half sheet of paper
half a life--give or take two years
--some events should be not precisely known.
My weight and density have grown
--there is little desire to run
as child will, out of control, joyful
--in that, I've lost my child-like pose.
These days all things taken
too seriously, even you, Poem.
Harry Lyon Morris is dead at 77. (obit. 11.92)
a thick and massive man who hadn't
run in fifty years. The world is lighter
he weightless
as bit of sun coming through skylight now
where I sit near espresso concession
--Monday morning mood manifest in but, Poem.
can one be written now?
Balance. And. I am
learning again.to write
poems. Do not know
what. poetry is always
not it. Is
testing self, patience
passion remaining.active.
Humble & open. Before you