Pocket Poems

Have made a start on this page. As I round up poems from notebooks, I’ll post more here. Am quite behind on this plan! Page may ‘present’ oddly. I’ve worked on it – hope it’s ‘good’ at your visit. I hope you’ll find pleasure, interest, meaning in my poetry – any one or combination.

These are poems for pockets.
On the whole, they are small.
Like pocket stones, they can serve to remind.

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Leaf Cutter

(Leaf cutters are small good natured solitary bees, pollinate alfalfa, a delight to observe!)

Taking a tuck out of summer,
the leaf cutter
slams into summer skies,
pushes the clouds apart,

By evening, lays loosely,
wrapped in a curl of green smoke.
Still later: drifts into fat wintertime cold,
six legs waving goodbye;

and maybe, with make believe hands,
knits logs into fine cabins,
with windows peering westward,
in arc of necessary vision
filled to bursting:

trust:

the sun never stops going west,
never.

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House and Walls

A wee sound taps against the favored walls of our house,
tucked secure in night’s soft darkness.

It is the house mouse.

We built the walls for just ourselves,
to keep within them our affairs –
to pick and choose, from all the world,
whom we remember in our prayers.

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PERSPECTIVE ON GOD AT HIS ROCKPILE

(Likely best understood by those who’ve picked rocks
in northern glaciated clay fields!)

I know the process of getting stoned each spring,
the labor of bending in the field, then standing,
in my hands, this small, slow, hit from god.

Winter’s isolated crystals may come and go with speed,
but for heaving stones, time, spread out through frost,
is the primary need.

It’s not at all as if stones rocketing up from underfoot,
might strike you unawares,
spinning you across the landscape;

It’s nothing like the fast surprise
of coming upon god
a rock in his hand.

Like everything natural in this climate, god adapts to winter,
choses the slow ferocity of frost,
for heaving stones.

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I Have A Basket Of Size

I have a basket of size
and able love, woven thusly:
loose fibers which swell,
reach out and grasp at rain,
a basket which surrounds itself
with air among its weavings.
A large basket
one willing to send its center
on endless, outward quest.
(It is a basket of size and able love —
a basket which holds.)

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BRING US A MOUNTAIN

BRING US A MOUNTAIN OF SUBSTANCE!
POUR HOT SILVER INTO ITS STONE HEART!
CAP ITS PEAK WITH WILD, FREE FLOWING ICE!
We have pick-axes …
BRING US A MOUNTAIN!!!

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What Voice From Where Calls To Whom?

What voice calls?

Listen: (shh …listen, still, … even more still than that …)
Listen: (shh … listen, deeper, … even more deeply than that …)

Let hearing pass beyond global interviews with experts
Let hearing pass beyond national interviews with experts,
Listen beyond local community economic matters, parade plans,
Listen beyond throats of one and another conferring, analyzing, concluding …

Listen … shh … more still, more deeply than that …
Open to what is heard beyond children playing, adults laughing,
even beyond birdsong…

What is heard beyond soft air
sliding surfaces
of grass, of leaves,
against one another?

What effect on global, national, community, economic matters, parade plans, interviews, conferences, discussions?

Somehow, these fade,
when listening is still enough, deep enough.
Listen … What is that voice that is not a voice, voice with no sound …
(… what IS that…?) (…shh … listen…)

“Sound” that is no sound, voice that is no voice …
… from everywhere, thus no ‘where’…
(HOW is that?)

Sound of no sound, voice of no voice …
How does “empty sound” “move in to fill all space?”
(WHY is it so?)

Let no-sound-voice bring to you that which it carries.
Send thought to sound-which-is-empty:
Ask: “WHAT IS THERE FOR ME TO KNOW?”

LISTEN! … (deeper)…
No-sound-voice directs attention to “collateral”,
unnecessary suffering occurs, continues, deepens,
while I and others analyze, discuss, solve, plan…

It suggests, with unconditional truth, without judgment:
THIS IS WHAT THERE IS TO KNOW.

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“64” (a real cow, well known about the community)

A cow, you know, who’s very tame, and jumps outside the gate,
does not run off as you come near — she ruminates, and waits.

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CHINOOK MANDATE

I tell you

when the Chinook blows,

Orion, like poet possessed,
flashes messages across the sky,
turns leader,
commands our souls to march!

and we are helpless to deny him!

following his air-born style,
we breathe deep,
draw his experience into ourselves,
and we grow!
become sky-giants!
our path the very heavens!

Ah, … but when the wild air quits
we fall earthward
in thudfull astonishment.

Looking up,
we notice Orion –
behaving as if
there had been nothing whatever
between us.

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What if … in a Cosmic scheme of how things are…
… it turns out we must attend to physical imbalance, material inequity, compassionate act, in order to serve inevitable unfolding, and are not enlightened enough to know this? I do not necessarily mean a mandate embedded in a Cosmic Consciousness, (although we have no proof this is not the case.) If we can imagine a future in which humankind has found its way to well-being for each and every, then we can make this our goal. Individual and group can measure practice accordingly.

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