THE FUNERAL POEM
It’s just a matter
of compressing
a whole life
into twenty lines or less
A wafer to melt on your tongue
A K-ration to carry with you into battle
There are times
when you
will need their strength
Just add a few drops of salty water
ALONE KOAN
What is the sound the old monk asked
What is the sound of one hand clapping
It is, of course, the sound of loneliness
playing pat-a-cake pat-a-cake with the dead
Hoping that they will rise again
at least long enough to applaud
the poem you wrote for their passing
FEEDING AMELIA
I knew you’d come
was the first thing that she said
as she lay
cancer hollowed on her bed
On the second visit
Robin and I read her the poem
the one you usually get to read
only after they are dead
On the third visit
I brought mushroom soup
from the good restaurant across town
and fed it to her, spoon by gentle spoon
A last meal in three courses
AMELIA IN FLIGHT
Amelia in this life
you have had wings on your feet
Wings that have taken you skyward in dance
Wings that have taken you away from these
prairies
and wings that have brought you back
In this life Amelia
you have taught so many of us to fly
If you go on to other wings
we must go on to other teachers
and to other students
Each with the gift you have given us
Each with a sacred feather
IT HELPED AT THE TIME
Today I visited the graves of my parents
flowers for my mother
tobacco for my father
and chocolate for the orphan boy
He had a stomach ache later
but it sure helped at the time
I WAS AFRAID OF THAT
My mother was afraid of everything
She may have been afraid of me
even before I was born
I can almost remember
pulling knees and elbows in
so as not to cause her pain
Afraid even in the womb to whisper
anything she didn’t want to hear
That sort of thing stays with you
Perhaps I should be thankful
for the cliffs I didn’t step off of
too brave and blindly in the night
buy what about the doors
the doors I didn’t open
into rooms filled with light
IN THE MOUNTAIN PARKS
The beaver does not bother
to stop his building long enough
to slap his tail and dive
The black bear ambles unconcerned
along the flowered motorway
across from the great glacier
You want to be, at least for a day
that mountain goat
hanging impossibly on the slope
I want to be the bighorn sheep
that just passed four feet away
the one with the biggest horns
TWO FOR BREAKFAST AT THE CHATEAU LAKE LOUISE
The sun strikes early on Mount Victoria
waking diamonds in the old monarch’s crown
washing softly down her ermine covered shoulders
While surrounding peaks
in playful disrespect
throw hand puppets of bears and wolves
across her lower skirts
*************
Lake Louise
windy morning
shadows of clouds
avalanche down the glacier
FIRE RELIEF CONCERT IN AUSTIN
“Roll me up and smoke me when I die”
– Willie Nelson
It’s damn dry in Texas this year Y’all
It was summer in spring and it’s still summer in fall
The big old lakes are all piss-puddle small
and the cows are eatin’ Bar-B-Q grass
the ones that are eatin’ at all
A million trees and a thousand homes
burned up in Bastrop just like dry sticks
But the stars are gathering over in Austin
Willie and George and the Dixie Chicks
Neighbors who know and care how they feel
Lovett and friends and Asleep at the Wheel
So let’s all chip in and do what we do
I’ll write a poem, what about you?
THE NOT QUITE DEAD SEA
Thirteen hundred and thirty eight feet
below sea level
Unless you live around there
and then all of the other seas
are a long way in the air
Driving through the West Bank
watch the signs as you drop away
After the first six feet you are living with the dead
Down, down, down, you go
foot by foot and year by year
heading for Herod’s health spa
King David’s refuge, and source of balms
used in the mummification of young King Tut
Eight and a half times saltier that the ocean
You float in the water so thick that you can’t sink
and air so thick the sun won’t burn you
as you look up and East into the hills
where the scrolls were buried
You don’t have to read them, you can feel them