~Every Poem Is
Overwhelming
Forgive me for misquoting
Jane Hirshfield. She was talking
About life, not poetry,
But I have a fractal view
Of experience,
And if life’s overwhelming
At the universal scale,
I’m not surprised at finding
An overwhelming couplet.
The grander epics, of course,
Anything praised and obscure,
Will do, too, but I have been
Overwhelmed by small bad poems
Who begged me to take them home.
~Well Being
Said the kitten by rolling
On the warm boards of the porch
Then dancing on her hind legs
To play-fight her old owner.
Well being, said her owner,
Blue sky and straight sun
And a good night’s sleep,
Greenery in the garden,
Strong lungs drawing in clean air.
Well being, cawed the sleek, fat crow,
Declaring that the day was on,
That every life was on the make
To eat and keep its kind of cake,
Back in summer, by the lake.
~Wayside Wildflowers
in the Mountains
Whenever I notice this,
Whatever this is, I think,
“All my life has led to this.”
Rather often, this is bliss,
Or at least better
Than anything worrying
About what might happen next,
Which is why I’ve noticed this.
So, I get the fans of Now,
Those despoilers of context.
If better than expected,
This, why waste time expecting?
But this is only thinking back
On how this came from all of that.
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