Poem at Year’s End
In one sweeping, Spring Cleaning, at year’s end,
I gathered up all the year’s photos,
...
Each man must have a corner
A patch of earth
...
All truth is quicksilver
slipping through the fingers
The moment I speak
...
Speaking, gutturaly, in the fractured
fragments of a foreign language,
a tongue unknown to her
...
Like Zen in her old age,
she moves as calm water
within the slow metabolism
of ancient stones and giant redwoods.
...
Looking in the mirror at fifty
I am getting older
the loss of muscle mass
...
I have gained many pounds
since you went away these many years.
Mounds of flesh piled as a berm
to defend against
...
Remembering birthdays at the beach:
wormholes
drawing you backward
with the undertow,
...
going out
I leave a lit lamp
and t.v. on
so on return
...
Sun sets into self-delusion
stirring the synapses
from a steaming cup of coffee
and under a dimly lit oil lamp
...