A poem — To be as much in love as those two Such that they’re spun together By an unseen but kind hand Mixed and inseparable Water and soil after weeks of April rain And then there’s walking Stepping in puddles Jumping from dry spot to dry spot An umbrella so huge as to cover the world and into the future April rain forever Coming down for months of Sundays Umbrellas up all over town| And leaned by the door Where you order coffee and read

The past is a dog or a cat Or both The dog you can call over by crouching, patting the rug in front of you The cat stalks around the house And if it spots you It might come over It might let you rub its head And it might purr And then drive its teeth into your hand Running off Later it’s lying on the bolster of the couch Its tail keeping time to some inner music Staring at you Daring you to come over and remember

To find beauty in this day Is to walk towards the sunrise Knowing it is behind the clouds That ugly houses House beautiful people And every car that passes Is driven by a fragile organic ball of doubts and hopes that might or might not survive till sunset Why isn’t…

A memory today of my son Maybe 13? Behind the closed door of his room doing exercises Push-ups? Squats? Something of his own design? What did someone say to him at school? What girl did he like? What display of incompetence in the gym? He would tell me of sports he invented, and his mastery of them For some of us, there is this moment where we know we’re stuck Battling a part of us that despises us

Superb piece. Good to see it in The Haven.

A certain awkwardness In newish shoes Which get pulled out and put on When hopes are high and expectations… Expectations are exciting I think her name was Caroline She of the shy sideways smile Her shoulder against mine But whatever else went up into the sky on an Indiana night A bird flushed from its hiding place The wisps of smoke from the fire Laughter, and words you can’t quite make out Blond hair cascades over the collar of her cardigan And the strange way she’d say my name

Poetry — How often have I walked out into my own neighborhood and hoped to get lost… It’s familiar to the point where it isn’t even comforting anymore I know all the dumb plants and the stupid flags the cracks in the sidewalk and exactly where the majority of dog shit might be…

February sucks or is it just things that have happened that will keep happening? — When I returned to Ladyshire It was February and naught was blooming The cars moved with slow velocities The sun awkward and low in early afternoon Inside we sat At a window table Thumbing the local paper There were things to notice Framed photos, a porcelain turtledove Bric-à-Brac on shelves… The way your hair turned to…

I think I’m becoming a better human being. I just passed a homeless woman who had her pants half down, taking a shit against a wall off 3rd Ave in New York City. And my first impulse was to hold her hand so she could better balance. My second impulse was to somehow screen her — to give her some privacy. Someday, and I hope soon, I’ll act on those impulses, rather than walk by and think them. Some more…