all we see/old age is cruel/coffeeshop #72

all we see, be, and conceive
is the One, by any name astonishing
delectable, noble
raising hair through ecstatic static
the element of surprise, the sun in the chest
_________

old age is cruel
bent bones, bent low, cane for crone
softened, withering
__________

trees with red berries
long stalk, sunflower turned down
love, a thought, haunts

karma gaining

just leave it
to time
time and letting go
karma gaining on us
here it is!
and there, it's gone
and what is here
in its place?

the future
right now
in all of its mercy and sutures

what once you rejected
here's its response to you

gratitude for saints

grateful for saints
seen and unseeable
100 million Buddhas
Siddhas, seers, sages
enlightened Bubbes
freeing sentient beings
and every being insentient
each pebble and star
each molecule, atomic particle
each grain of light
in this ocean of luminosity
the expanses of darkness
in the folds of black velvet unconscious
I salute the world saviors
the day laborers
on with the light, back to the laundry
down the mountain of realization
to mingle with the ordinary
rub shoulders, impart vicarious sparks

defining "can't"

defining “can’t”
grating on my nerves
parmesan cheese
and Muhammad Ali
things I can't achieve
maybe solely
because I don't believe
crazy, criminal, karma bound
thinking about my cross a lot now
a bleeding fool
in a Burger King crown

I wasn't giving her money, and she wasn't using it for drugs

she stood by the abandoned storefront
where Big Fun once dispensed crass and hilarious items
holding her own against the wind, it seemed
while there was no wind to speak of

as I plodded the crosswalk with my cane
she caught my eye
when I arrived on her side
she asked if I had any change
she was hungry

I fished in my wallet
full of bills earmarked for poetry books
handed her a $1 bill
she thanked me sweetly
and I proceeded to Mac's for the reading

as it was, I did not buy any of the reader's books
left early in a hurry, in between open mic poets

when I got to the crosswalk, she was still standing there
I looked at her, smiled, and she frowned
"where's your cane?", she asked

I opened my mouth
uttered a profuse "thank you"
and trundled back to Mac's
through the shop and down the stairs
to the water pipe I had left my cane by

seeing her one last time on my way to my car
she asked if I could give her just two more dollars
she wanted to get a sandwich from Tommy's
I was glad she asked, because I didn't want to hand it to her
unsolicited, as if it were a tip, though that is what
I had planned it to be

"try Jimmy John's", I told her
"you'll get more to eat for less"
she took the two dollars and disappeared into the evening crowd

the whole time
I was embarrassed to tell her, the cane is somewhat only for show
her concern overshadowed by an awe
that some miracle had corrected my walking

braille of moment

some can read
submerged and dreaming

I am not that confident
I have my issues

I am only clambering
with impertinent hands

for a better view
of drowning

this one note

Bill Frisell

bending a string

through light distortion

offering to the Muse

his aural veneration

this one note

could stop an army

could win a Grammy

could melt a stone heart

could empty a music hall

and fill the surrounding countryside



crickets and fireflies

lighters waved high

tiny flames flag

the gentle breeze

seat of jeans soaked

on grassy hills

slick with thin drizzle