Keep moving.Keep creating.Do. Forget the “or do not.”Just do.There is no “or.” Yes, there is no “try.”But once committed,there is no choice.
One day I stopped writing poemswhen I noticedpoets seldom get rich. One day I stopped writing songsbecause I figuredI’d never be a star. One day I woke upand realizedthose were silly reasons to stop.
Here are the heroes of time immemorialLocked in the struggle that lasts for all time;Here are the questions and some of the answersWaiting for someone to call them by name,Here in the vault tucked away in Elysian,Here in the hearts of the beings named poets,Not asking, but asking, and serving as pagesTo carry the messageContinue reading “From ether to planet”
I think a sky is full of reasons to look up. I think there is no end to up and stars go on forever. I think a world of possibilities is a lifetime. I think the more I think the less I see. I think looking up shows all the reasons to hope. I thinkContinue reading “a sky is full of reasons”
Gladness is infectious But so can be despair So seek out reasons to be glad mon frère (This little ditty does not appear in the book, but it describes the theme.)
The war ended, and peace was at hand. The people celebrated by making babies, a veritable boom of babies. But the old men had other ideas and they conjured new wars. And one day the baby boom grew to old men and started new wars of their own. Who will be the first to cryContinue reading “merry-go-round”
Does it become a poem whenI place the words just so ? Does poetry dependupon spaces andreturns? I hear poetry in an autumn breeze even if I describe it in a short paragraph, taking up all of the space between the margins. Is itany lesspoetryfor the margins?
There, did you see it, just then? I napped like death for an hour and a half this afternoon, and you almost slipped out without my knowing, but you whispered my name to be sure, and I heard. Now, alone, I breathe full and deep and feel the life renewed from sleep, rested and recreatedContinue reading “on waking”
The wonder of this moment that is here and will never come again, overflowing with oh so much life the sunshine and the color and the silence (or the chitter-chat) of so much everything all around