Don’t moan!
Just pull your hair
as I do—waltzing
in my head
with death
& a glowing point
straight before me…
**
Who appointed you? Nah. Forget Spinoza. I mean “who” besides your mother told you your thoughts are worth a damn?
“Well, when I was a boy the postman said I was smart.”
**
My face is a flag of surrender. I’ve cultivated it. My torso fights on…
**
Happiness crawls in and out of me like that childhood song about the worms and the corpse…
**
How beautiful to see we are still funny. Five friends and no one is selling anything. Though one of us who has lost a lot of weight lifts up his shirt and I say if he keeps this kind of display up, a piano will fall on him. The dog walks into the room with her dish clutched in her teeth. A five point buck looks in the window. Any moment now, Dr. Doolittle will drop by for coffee. We are just laughing animals. Save the human textbook for tomorrow.
**
Carl Jung thought the plants were talking to us. I’m with him.
**
I want you to understand me. I come from one or two regions beyond the blurry pasture. The dark pines are engraved with the bold eyes of my sleep. Here I am, new to this day. What should I do?
