thanks louie

 Bright moonlight

On white bright snow

This January, cold 

And colder

I remember Thomas

Merton’s birthday

A man

Worth his words

délivre-nous des personnes malveillantes

 When did we 

become so disdainful 

of decency

when did being

cruel and ugly 

become winning strategy

it is beyond my understanding

but for them, they say

“it is only me, just me, perfect me"

my buddhist friends say

there is no 'me' -- who are

these unexisting ghouls?

una brevissima storia di un ricordo congelato

 Sarsaparilla, eh?

     Yeah, what of it?

Seems odd?

     Why so?

You seem odd.

     Don't start.

Were you just fingering beads?

     Yeah, what of it?

A rosary?

     What of it?

Seems odd.

     How so?

Can’t put my finger on it.

     Well, i can…and do.

But sarsaparilla…

     Jeezus!

[In the gospels there’s this riff about an executed guy showing up a few days after his murder. It seems highly unlikely, but a lot of people think that story is true. They wait for some reappearance replete with justice, charity, maybe — joy. Seems a long shot.]

[entr’acte:] 

Rockport harbor is iced over.

Long icicles outside window.

Somewhere, under snow, on frozen ground, a bottle cap.

nothing follows

 The Buddha and the Christ 

walk into a bar —

Buddha: “Can i get you anything?”

Christ: “Thanks, a sarsaparilla please.”

Buddha: “Odd what’s going on in America, eh?”

Christ: “Damn odd.”

Buddha: [sits in silence]

Christ: [sips drink in silence]

[as scene ends, nothing is clear, 

nothing continues,  nothing follows.

Light fades.]

the end of disgust

 Time is here

The man has to go

There’s no doubt left

One by one

Weaklings understand 

They are crumbling 

upstaging himself

 there’s discussion

is trump just playing

the fool

or is he not playing --

I hope he’s just playing

for his own soul

else when curtain

drops he’s trapped

on dark stage uncalled

mu...[sic]

someone wanted me 

to teach 

a college class about zen

I’m silent

I don’t know 

anything about zen

but I do like

bruce springsteen’s song

about Minneapolis

not lasting a second winter

the frozen battery

has no pulse

charger can't revive

I’ll try the paddles

one more time

before calling it

as the cat meows, no doubt a mouse

 They say

The beauty

Of life

Is that

One day

It will end

I don’t know

Beauty

Is the beginning

Of the end

Each beginning

Is the end

Itself

6:56

 Disappearing 

I do not see

My way clear

Snow is deep

Depleted energy

This step, this

vigil, a watchful unknowing

When his name

Is printed

In obituary

I will say 

a prayer

Because

That’s what

A decent

Teaching teaches

Belief is irrelevant 

Prayer is where

Not-knowing gazes

asked no questions, tell no lies

 Night

Nothing

To see here 

Not at, but

Look through

Nothing

If you see

See nothing but 

What is there

Think

Nothing

Of it 

please, pass the broom

 We’re ashamed 

of the president

Vice president 

and cabinet

Ashamed

Of them

Truly

Ashamed

disappearing

 Cold hands

Find letters

Where no

Words go

Never

Mind

all my troubles seem, at 6 degrees, so far, away

 Plowing guy

Pushes snow

From yesterday

He might as

Well be

Called spring

comes sun over tree line

 Icicles

Hang from

Eaves

Looking out

Window 

Frozen shut

una volta, e poi basta

 If you need to sing

If you want to sing

Then sing

Your own song

Once

Then done

loco cenae

Two sips of coffee milk

Four pills at bedtime

I’m retiring 

from most everything 

something in the air

 And you know it’s right

of course we do

And you know that it’s right

of course we will

get it together

sooner or later

because the revolution’s here

now

one thing done, poet said, the rest follows

 Up east

Sliver of blue

Faint

Silhouettes trees

Night is being

Pushed aside

And where being

Stood, a child’s eyes

The world, they say,

Will break your heart—

I am ready, there are

Broken pieces on ground