YOU THINK SO, HUH?

The words are scattered
all over the floor, with
the books, papers, god knows
what else waiting to move
to its new home the next
bedroom over, my wife and I
having decided to swap
home offices, after eight years.
They are upset at being dislodged
don't like at all being disembedded
and vow that for some time
much of what I write
will look remarkably like this.

THERE IS NO DOG IN THIS POEM

Billy finishes his reading
to robust applause, thanks
his hosts and proceeds to the tables
set up the the lobby of the theatre
pen clutched firmly in hand.
The slow procession to him is orderly,
we hold out our books reverently
await the kiss of his Sharpie.
Let us freeze this scene, Billy
smiling a practiced smile
pen firmly grasped, hovering
over the title page.  Let us
peel back his scalp that time
has prepared for us
be shedding the obstructive hair
and let us carefully lift off the skull
and peer quietly into the mind
of the now famous poet.  It isn't
what you expected, a brain calculating
his royalties on the books being sold
on the adjacent table, how the soon
to come added sales on amazon.com
could easily raise his newest book
to the 38,785th most popular.  No,
it is neither of those, just
a mind smirking I've
hooked still one more
on the drug that is poetry.

READY?

The Buddha said
when the student is ready
the teacher appears.
My Rabbi used to say
when you are ready
the Lord will appear
but you may not recognize
God and that's okay.
Both Buddha and my Rabbi
actually said
that when you are ready
you will appear
and it is then
you will no longer
recognize yourself.

PACKING

Boxing books for donation
I am surprised it's now easier
to part with those whole flyleaf
might say Scribner & Sons, 1815
than far less impressively bound
volumes of modern poetry.
It might be that for most
of the contemporaries there is
still the chance of the meeting
while Pope's and Swift's ashes and dust
have long since been carried off
on the ever present wind of history.
It certainly wouldn't be
that in for precious shelf inch
the ancients bring a far greater
tax deduction.  No, not really.

IF

He asks When?
as if it were all
a matter of timing,
as if the immediacy
or lack of it
somehow really mattered.
She would never ask that
but would want
to know who.
She's far too polite
to ever ask why
preferring to replay the scene
in her eye's mind
allowing for a thin
veil of mystery.
each wants to know
how the other found out
but neither has
the slightest idea
where this all began.

SEEING RED

Tomorrow morning
I will step outside
and on the Austrian Pine
hope to see
the crimson flash
of the cardinal's wing
foretelling the day to come.
We will bow
each to the other
and await the sun.
Even the squirrels
will pause and take notice.
This is my fondest hope
for I have grown weary
of the egotism
the self-preening
of the crows each morning.
How dare they
act so human.

PAUSE

and there are
those rare days
when the less
said is
the better
and this
is