Notebooks…1980

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?