the first night

September 13, 1980

the first night – getting there

on Broadway
cold gray sidewalk
under warm evening glare
of cool brown street lights
shadows of leaves
confused

brown on hard blue
gray at night
moving
jumping
sudden
knowing not where to turn

shadows searching for darkness

a cabin in outer space

a cabin in outer space
–midnight rave #26

it isn’t really as cold as outer space,
but that’s why it’s cold, the snow.
it’s colder than the earth
because it starts out so much closer to outer space,
and it’s cold there.

and you know,
as green and shadowy and warm as sometimes it is here,
we really are just in outer space.
a hot spot island maybe
(if you’re lucky or it’s summertime)
but still…

the sun is there,
the sky is blue,
but it’s in outer space too,
even the clouds,
they’re just near.

and nighttime?
nighttime is outer space.
daytime may be “looking in the face of your mother”
but nighttime is seeing only one thing
and knowing that you’re not it.

nighttime is naked sky
it isn’t empty
it’s full,
but there is so much space between everything
and everything is just what it is
at least most of the time
especially (in our lifetime)
stars,
and you too
are as there and as real as a star
and just as lonely

To Bill

To Bill
freedom is the gift to be alive though dead
-Anthony Towne

rumors of dead burying undead
reach me here
but do not touch,
the flags still wave
the signposts stand,
words of welcome
and love’s strange silence
hang in the air
like the puppet acrobats and clowns
in his study

rejoice, rejoice
again I say rejoice

e.e. keeps damning everything but the circus,
and the parades of life and death
keep clashing in ever larger
ever smaller circles
death to life
life to death
silence, accommodation, mediocrity
love’s passion and longsuffering
the onceness of our passing and being
the taking up and laying down
of our lives
for others
for the world
for ourselves

rejoice, rejoice

he was always passing
from death to life
life to death
many times a day
I feel so little sadness
at this latest passing
one more glory
to glory
there is so little
that needs to be said

elsewhere already

books crooks

books, crooks, looks, nooks,
crannies, grammies, summer camp cooks,

football, baseballs, late to school
your old donkey’s just a plain old mule,

green tea, black tea, coffee and crumb
four long fingers, and a crooked thumb,

thumbs up, thumbs down
newspaper town
itty bitty king in a tin foil crown

my shoulder

my shoulder tells my hand
whose shoulder it’s touching not

heart makes poems
when my flesh cannot

his motion

his motion was not as smooth
nor his presence as full
yet he rose like the sun
and his life shone ’round him

feigning weakness

feigning weakness
on account of a strength unbearable
and loss irreplaceable

I wait on you

no answers

there are no answers
there are only people
you
and me
(and you)
(and you)
(and me)

(there are also many many seagulls)

no less certain

no less certain
than the moon
my candle is brighter
and fills the room
with light
and shadows