OREGON IN WINTER
The big plane slows, mists rise to meet it
droplets begin to play along the windows
My body, mostly water
falling through clouds, mostly water
I have been traveling some
The water in me comes from
the limestone caverns of Austin
the rivers of Upstate New York, and
million year old glaciers in the Rockies of Alberta
The clouds have been around the world
rising and falling as river, air and sea
Quiet now, as I am
I can feel them meeting again
hear them, telling stories
VALENTINE 09
Every Saint Valentine’s day
one should write a poem
to their beloved
Not just to remind them
how lovely they are
and your bursting desire
to show it
But also how lucky you are
to know that you know it
BACK TO SASKATCHEWAN
After mountains piled on mountains
trees crowding trees and
sense sating cities
a cleansing fast of horizon
NEGATIVE SPACE IN NEW YORK CITY
At the Guggenheim
they make a big deal
about the negative space
between the right arm
and the body
of Picasso’s “Woman Ironing”
Which makes sense to me
as a boy from the prairie
Since I have often been told
that there are many
beautiful buildings in this city
And yet have only seen
a few tops and sides
My gaze always glancing
off glass and stone
In its wild rush
to grasp and embrace
any small piece of sky
THE INNER CRITIC ON HOLIDAY
You will get lost in Paris
it is not your fault
it was planned that way
You may find it unforgivably gauche
not to know the left bank from the right
Let it go
It is not necessary
to criticize oneself here
they have waiters for that purpose
And looking out, not in
you may stumble Americanly
upon Marie’s little side street shop
with bread as new as the cheese is old
and a three dollar wine to bridge them
or catch a brief glimpse
of that seriously happy young man
pedaling down the very center
of the Champs d’Elysee
one foot and a base fiddle
resting on his skateboard
INNER CRITIC AT THE BEACH
Sand, sand, sand
and perfect bodies tanned
And the same sand-paper line
not mine, not mine, not mine
WITH APOLOGIES TO DAVID SUZUKI
In the center of
a great Pacific gyre
fridges, bottles, nets and wire
circling like a rotting tire
a fast expanding garbage heap
larger than the state of Texas
and a hundred meters deep
Plastic choking bird and beast
who in error on it feast
A concept difficult to grasp
especially when forcing rhymes
It helps to think of a woman’s purse
multiplied a hundred million times
PROGRESS
The roads of St. Lucia
are mostly narrow and precarious
Trucks careening inches from cliff edge
chickens and children clinging
to the wooden sides
Car horns doeplering their nearness
to a blind curve
where one must cede
or both will crash
Slow speeds
and quick reflexes
scare the island food
out of tourists
but keep the locals safe
Close to the beach on the Caribbean side
people from away, in their wisdom
and generosity have build five miles
of well-marked, well-paved
perfectly straight road
Where you can drive sixty
and the drivers of St. Lucia now
quickly kill themselves and others
RECESSION ON 42ND STREET
Limo hits pothole
driver’s hat lifts
Count one, two, three
how soon will it get
to you and me
LOSING
If the physicists are right
we may share molecules
with all those who went before
like Shakespeare, Socrates,
Cervantes, and Tagore
It has been suggested from time to time
that I would be well to go on a diet
but it would feel too much
like parting with old friends