DUST MADE OF DUST

You, human

- you, dust made of dust,

your days are short

and your nights are fleeting.

From the birth

you stand on the side of your grave,

so look up

and see the starlight

on a blue sky

and the moonlight

on an autumn sky,

the sparkling diamonds of winter.

Look up, and know,

that they endure

and you, you dim

and fade away.

31.05.2018

ALAS, PHILIP ROTH

Speak no ill of those
beyond death

they say, so

alas, I must be

silent

of the horse-lover

with the famous name,

and let the green of earliest summer

and the burning heat

of the late May afternoon

speak, life

speaks

as life fades,

blade of grass dies

and a blade of grass grows;

the morning dew 

and the evening rain's droplets

on it

reflect the world

and are gone,

the water containing the surrounding

and the blade of grass

but until the very evening of the world

there will be

reflection of blades of grass

on morning dew

resting on blade of grass.

23.05.2018

ONE OF THE GOOD DAYS

One of the good days, recovering

from that bad sickness, recognition

of sins. Surfacing

to where the past glimmers

through today like stones

through clear lake water.

There, in the past, they

give hope and strength, a

shimmering illusion; so

a hundred pages read of Tiptree

and others, rambling

through a friendly world

in peace, Coltrane

from the laptop, sunshine

flowing on the wall, outside

someone cutting grass and

seeing, smelling the new green grass

while walking out to Des Moines

when everyone you meet is a friend

and out there in the kitchen new hot coffee

you can taste even before you drink

it from that singing mug as

Coltrane, dead Coltrane still alive

in his music like Tiptree still alive

in her words, like they are

glimmering through the years,

alive, still alive, still here, still are, still are

part of you, part of the world,

together, all of you together, still.

21.05.2018

SPRING

I am thinking of the new grass

that grows above;

the first flowers,

the shade you would seek

on days like this;

I am thinking of you,

I am thinking of

the new green grass

on your grave.

18.05.2018

THE VOID AT THE BOTTOM OF THE ABYSS

One by one, all

that makes life worth living

taken away; yet

that wretched need to live

survives unscathed,

the pointless time

precious without meaning.

Inhale, exhale,

carry out the bodily functions,

be. This

all that there is,

and the fear of death

only grows.

For life in bloom hides

what withered can but show.

05.05.2018

THE HUMAN CONDITION

Such pitiful creatures,

we, bending

to every demand of time.

Bad actors

on a shabby stage

we insist calling 'society';

we perform

only old dramas

rehashed new.

So easy, we go through

them absently,

on stage and audience

alike. Bad

actors deserve

rotten audience,

from whose ranks we

stand up and walk

to the creaking

stage and from which we return,

indifference carved to our facial bones.

Such pitiful creatures

such pitiful lives make

out of such stale drama,

such pitiful stage keep.

To time we bend

and time we bend

cyclical, so long

a tragedy made farce.

04.05.2018

Rough wind

through the alley

of brick

and bare trees

blows

Figurative?

Literal giving

rise

to figurative

life

It will be

sweet warm

breeze

of summer

soon

Cold wet

wind

of autumn

Crisp freezing

breath

of winter

That wind

puts on

the masks

we

only dream of

04.05.2018

THEY WALK IN THE RAIN

They walk in the rain, splashes of water

tell of their movement. In the

early gloom, twisted

reflections on brown water;

laughter,

someone jumps. Brown

droplets mix with falling rain

like their joy with mud

on their boots. Children,

running free, in the rain.

01.05.2018

SPRING DREAM

In my sleep, a dream

of my father and grandfather sitting with me

on a table, separated

from them by it and death,

and my grandfather having trouble with his dentures

as he talked, ate and talked.

There was pale spring light

and we were in my grandparents' old house,

they were both younger

than when they died, ten years

or so, and all was in order,

a perfect moment. Awakening,

coming through the deep waters,

I suddenly remembered, a joy 

throughout my being, and now,

now the sound of spring rain

from an open window

to a world mended.

01.05.2018