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I SPEND THE EMPTY HOURS
I spend considerable time thinkingabout what it is that I am, what is I,whether Descartes’ God or Spinoza’scould possibly exist, or must if I can havemeaning beyond self-reflection, needinga godly mirror, and image reflected.Cogito, on what basis can I draw that conclusionwhat logical proof, carefully constructed willnot fall under the weight of the axiom, cogito…
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FELIS CATUS
She says just think of it,when the cat is twentyyou’ll be 87 and I’ll be 92. I never thought of itquite that way, of the catbeing twenty, I mean. My cats all diedin their teens, and thoughI missed them terribly, I assumed it wasjust their time, just howlong they should live. I’ve now thought of…
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SENSELESS
You place the shroudover my head,it is dark, but Ican still touch her cheek. You cut offmy fingers, leavingonly stumps, but Ican still taste her tears. You pull outmy tongue, there isonly bitterness, but Ican hear her morning laugh. You drown mein a sea of noisenothing breaks the din, but Ismell her sweetness. You fill…
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MIRROR IMAGE
Each morning when I lookinto the mirror I imagineI see me, but of course thatis impossible, for in that momentonly the mirror sees meand I see the mirror. How deluded I must beto assume that I look at alllike the mirror, but it is,I know, just such delusionsthat enable my sense of self,and that is…
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AROMA
What I want, no, need actually,is to remember the smells of youth.The images I can recall, but they areaged pictures, run repeatedly throughthe Photoshop of memory, andcannot be trusted only desired. The old, half ready to fall oak,in the Salt Lake City park hada faint pungency that lingeredeven as I departed my body asthe acid…
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SONGWRITER
Bob Dylan is, to the best of my knowledge,the only songwriter to successfully rhymeoutrageous and contagious, which doesn’texplain why I knew I could never bea successful songwriter in this life. The explanation is far simpler, it was whenLeonard Cohen served me tea and apricots,said he hated the river even living in Montrealand said I should…
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GROUNDED
it was so much easier when I could stillimagine myself a bird, untetheredand free to take flight on a whim. In dreams I often flew, no Icarusbut a raptor, peering down, seeingwith a clarity the earth denied me. Now my roots have taken holdin the enmeshing soil plunged deepand spread tendrils anchoring me, and even…
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THE MIND’S BLIND EYE
He imagined the end was coming,but that was his problem, imaginingfor it was about all he was capable of doing. He started small, near visualizationmore than imaginings, but he grew moreproficient with practice, his ideas his conceptions of an increasinglygrander scale, until from a single threadhe could weave a tapestry that boggled even his mind,…
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ON ARRIVAL
This morning arrivedwith a painful slowness, the slothof irregular dreams refusing to concedeto the light struggling to creep aroundthe blinds that hide the oversize windows. It had been that sort of night,sleep arriving and departing witha frustrating lack of constancy, my bodyuncertain of its proper placement ,the mattress offering no easy solutions. Conceding the failure…
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CUTTING THOUGHTS
My wife pauses by the placardin the nature preserve and tells methat what I have been calling grassesare in fact a sedge known as sawgrass. She points out the warning thatit’s serrated on the edge and earnedits name from those who graspedit without knowing or thinking first. I feign listening but she knowsmy mind is…
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an old writer and his words 