Present
Are we present? I give
my wife this morning
mourning things
in the cellar
of the cellar
of today.
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Ursus maritimus
A white bear
catches dinner, very hungry:
snow at sea.
Double Dutch: two poems
An off day, an in day,
a be-at-home day.
I am my things.
I let this day down.
Selective Memory
This morning at home, looking over
the remains of our past:
where did I patch the house,
where did I paper?
Reluctant Prophet
I see a sea of hands,
a wine seller in the wine cellar,
a night made even with the sun.
What to do? I pray for
a change of tune.
Crickets
Here we are: a strange
dry din
again in
the afternoon
again in
the night.
Grayscale
White and black:
day buried night
in birch paper.
A Zen monk.
Any hat.
A Drinking Reed
I fetch a friend to send to sea
and see a reed reckoning
the profits of drink.
How much to expect of vice?
I found all my desire
quite spoiled by reason.
Inheritance
Velvet land, given to make money:
the hole bad usage made of it,
the well, the firkin.
I take half
for a bridge to elsewhere,
water to comb my head
in the kitchen.
Open Sea
A sitting day
at the sea,
that sudden country.
The business
of sea is absence,
home to prayers.
Pinnipedestrian
Kin to the seal,
I walk beyond the version
of the sea I am.
Rain House
Is rain a good house, sunshine a good car?
I have one home.
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