Writing Poetry Is Like Work

Work is hard

So is poetry

I would rather play than work

I would rather daydream than write a poem

People don’t like hearing about other people’s work

People don’t like reading other people’s poetry

Work can be hard to learn

Poetry can be hard to learn

Work and poetry have the same ingredients:

Force, displacement and cause

An example of work is:

A horse pulling a plow through a field

An example of poetry is:

A horse pulling a plow through a field

When a weight lifter puts weight over his head

He has done work

But he has also written a poem

When a poet writes a poem with his head

He has done work

Even though he only put a lamp over his head

Two joules of work result from

One newton of force times two meters

Two jewels of poetry result from

One Robert Frost in thought on two ideas

A compilation of noteworthy non-sequitors

The Apostle Paul was never the same

After the trip to Damascus

Ulysses should have sailed quickly home

From the Trojan war

We usurped a continent

Only to contract an anti-immigration virus

The great depression

Followed the gilded age

World War II came on the heels

Of the war to end all wars

The fall of the soviet empire

Rendered the cold war moot

Lincoln’s assassination

Concluded a life of valiant service

Kennedy’s death in Dallas

Was preceded by Camelot

Obama winning the White House

Came out of nowhere

Your life and mine followed from nothing

And will return to the same

History is a compilation
Of noteworthy non-sequitors

Prodigal Propitiation

She said take down those poems
No one reads them anyway
As if I were a cigarette butt to crush
With her boot heel
Only she doesn't smoke or wear boots
I don't even smoke, unless you count dreams
And I hung up my steel toes for 
Moccasins, long ago

I drag out a cross and say
Here, nail me to this
For the sins of all men
Sort of the first all-women's Calvary
And I think of the word propitiation

We had our kitchen 
Redone recently and I can't
Remember the word countertop
It comes out sink or shelf
Suddenly I'm cutting onions on
The thing, kitchen countertop
But by god, I'm gonna be a savior
A propitiation

My tongue keeps rolling in my mouth
Like I've seen cow tongues do
Til I think it'll start bleeding
But I doubt they'll write a New Testament over that

On my birthday I got a call
She had bought tickets to
See our team play
Little did I know
Those were my last days
In the graceful land of the uber confident 
Now I'm back where I started 
Doubted by everyone that matters 
Especially me

Welcome home, young man
Let's kill some battered tofu 
Eat, drink and be merry
For tomorrow, the sun may never rise


Sent from my iPhone

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday to Me

I wonder…

Why do I do what I do?

Instead of watching TV?

Or playing the lottery?

Or making dulcimers

Or fiddling with tools

I think:

Some things I do,

I do with mixed emotions

But most of the time

What I do

Is bereft of feeling

I know…

I am no barracuda

In the food chain

No William James

In the library

No Pilgrim

In Progress

No Buddha

Sitting still

I imagine…

If I had money

I’d give it away

Me talking big

We’ll see on that

I bet…

If I were smart

Somebody would

Know it by now

And have me branded

With the mark of the best

I feel…

Numb to the touch

Alone in crowds

Happy in bursts

Up to my neck

I hope…

Oars are for rowing

Sails for blowing

Wind for moving

Horizons for seeking

I assume as much

But…

I remember Walt Whitman

The way he asked us to

Now if only I could

Tell him as much

And if only I could

Touch tomorrow

The way I feel

The wind and sun

Touch me

In the end…

I have vital signs

Enough to make

A hospital machine

Draw lines and go beep

Happy Birthday To Me!!

Happy 

How To Not Fall in Love or Write A Poem

It is not hard to avoid love

I can do it with my eyes closed

It’s the same skill required

In not writing a poem

After a little practice

You too will become good at both

I have not written a lot of poetry

Just as I have not loved a lot of people

And those are not just clever phrases

I really have not done these things

In the Summer of 2007

I lay on the bed beside an opened window

In the Hotel de Nesle

In the heart of Paris

After my daughter and I had gelato

In the hotel courtyard…

I was half awake

But my most vivid memory

From Paris was the sound of

Delivery trucks in the alley

Outside that window

To my ears the trucks were French

And words I could not understand

Wafted up from the street

No doubt, under this influence

I would have fallen

In love with the next flower

Or work of art, I saw

To say nothing of an unsuspecting person

But after I awakened, my daughter and I

Talked a while and then we went out

And a motorcycle ran over her shoe

On the sidewalk and she said

I did not show proper concern

For her foot and so we argued

Instead of me seeing art or life

And falling in love

We spent that evening walking

The streets of Paris

And I never wrote a poem either

So, in one trip to Paris

I am now an authority

On how to not fall in love

And to not write a poem

All it takes is a mild diversion

Allied with a sense of urgency

That’s it,

If you live distracted and in a frenzy

You will never fall in love

And you will never write a poem

But you may make a lot of money

Or win fame and fortune

Which would serve you right