lost my pen
checked my pockets
pulled out fuzz
nothing hatched

went to the doctor
that's where I've been
took me a pen,
can write notes again.




.

can a car be in river
water to the windows
and still work?
Before the Internet
you had to write a newspaper
to the column Ask Mechanic Bob,
or some one like that
who might answer your question
and were really five guys
working i an office
eating donuts.



.

sometimes i work harder and sleep longer,
or drink more coffee and think of days
spent far away - other places, other times,
i'll take my pick, depending on the weather,
how the sun is shining, how the wind blows.

now where i'm sitting the sun is in my eyes;
but isn't it grand...because that's the same sun
you're looking at; amazing.
that's how it functions...
world without end.

you know, when i used to make a camp fire
wood would burn down and there'd be no fire.
the sun has been burning since before we were,
so how does it do that and not turn to ashes?
who's adding fuel to the fire?



.

just read February has been the warmest on record.
they say it will be 65 Fahrenheit today here in Ohio;
meanwhile Trump is complaining about the news media.
i'm glad there is something to read with coffee in the morning.

well, where is the snow?
it's the dead of winter...time for blizzards.
so where did it go?
certainly not as i remember.

kids have to play, you know...days off school.
while old people watch white pouring down,
thick on the ground, all around, packing us in.
this year i never had to look for my boots.


.

chi gung

fingers on the collar bones,
rotate the head around, slowly.
both directions. my neck pops
like i'm wringing a stalk of celery



.

maria

she has gone now.
got word this morning;
alberto called. before he said
i heard the message in his voice

she...a few words yesterday,
wanting to say to me...
then dropped the phone.
i know you friend, maria.






.

to creeks jumped
and those fallen into.
to bridges crossed,
those ducked under.

to all frogs and fish,
birds and the clouds,
rain in the forest,
over brambles, through fields,

and down long highways.
in sun, snow and quiet nights,
flowers, weeds and vegetables included;
a salute to the finish and new beginning.






.

waiting for james.
he stopped by a month ago,
oregon to ohio,
to Boston, to Rome.
back with his brother
52 and 50,
the drummer and the unpredictable,
nicest guys i could know.
known 'em grow.
said he'd be here last week
that was the plan
now short hours away,
ahead of the snow.
he and Alex heading to Portland
and adventure.
while i read...check out the window,
waiting for james



.

had coffee...
tapped my spoon on the table,
no sugar for me,
ate enough cookies this week.
gazed out the window
saw more parking spaces than usual,
and fewer birds; seems they all
flew home for the holidays..
gazed more... thought
of warm water swimming,
took just one last cookie
for dipping.


.

the olives can go in the refrigerator
is what she said to me
can they now? that got my attention,
i squinted at her

didn’t believe her, not then.
that was absolutely not true.
those olives can’t go anywhere,
watch them; even if they tried.

i know for a fact, no doubt about it.
take a load off, olives,
you can put the load right on me.
your going days are over.



.

such a beautiful Christmas tree
nearly twenty feet tall
in the neighbors front yard,
been watching it for years;
he's not using it anyway.
our ceiling at home reaches seven,
i only need some off the top.
i'll buy neighbor kids beer
have them cut the top at night
and deny involvement

forget the above. I remembered Gregory
Corso's beat generation poem about
learning to drive and
mowing friends down:
humor from another generation.
unkind doesn't work now
when we need to go easy,
we surly do.
we need kindness, even in humor.



.

practically Christmas
a few days to go
they say it will rain
how can they know?
staying home i'll sing in my head
White Christmas...
"may your days be merry and bright"
at night go to bed



.

shortest day of the year
can you feel it?



.

five days before christmas
a mexican food lunch
loosen up




.

i awaken and look at the news
then i'm sorry i did, for what i read;
for what is said saddens me.
where is the love and the dreams?

softness, it seems, is waylaid by power
and grandeur of prominence.
shall we avoid the sweet scent of flowers?
give mankind gentle notions again.



.

America has computers.
Pick an issue and a day;
in 24 hours know exactly
what the people say.



.

a lazy gray day watching droplets;
well, first sensing them until
i looked beyond thin curtains
to see silver sprinkles puddle up.

visible from my easy chair,
pearls splatter and shatter softly.
will pour later is the consensus
of weather forecast providers.

i sip coffee to heed what is
given by professionals or,
as in days of old, will dauntlessly
draw my own conclusions.



.

2016 super moon, bright white
and larger; nearest until 2034.
got up at 2:00 and saw it a minute;
went back to bed. slept through most of it.





.

you can yell at the dog
he'll feel bad
and not remember
why you're yelling at him.



.

two horses
in the small corral
stand in extreme opposite corners,
though horses like company.

these two must have been
together long enough;
each knows
what the other has to say.



.