“The one I worship has more soul than other folks,” said Auden. Then he added, “than any I have met so far.” Even poets need to be accurate. For accuracy’s sake I admit I’ve met some “big soul” people but they were pick-pockets also.
**
I will be an old man just like other old men with watery eyes. But I won’t be cheaply sentimental. For accuracy’s sake I’ll be richly sentimental. Like my dog.
**
Here’s to the old moonlight of romance, reflected in water, the water in a cup, the cup made of tin.
**
Here comes Lord Byron, clunk clunk. Nimble, principled, cripple. Templar “tapper” to be sure. All of Greece was his reasonable accommodation.
**
I gotta get right with the banana clock.
**
Irony and humor, lice to the body of pain. Or not. For accuracy’s sake I admit the lice may be bigger than the body.
**
Good morning blues, blues how do you do?
Well I’m doin’ alright, good mornin’ how are you?
You see, when you really have the blues they’ll talk back.
**
Someone asked me about tenderness. How to find it. The recipe for empathy is written whenever and wherever dogs turn in circles before lying down. Or yesterday, my wife, came upon her horse asleep. She talked to him softly and he opened his eyes and nickered. Small joy. Shared.
Planet of the Blind 