VIEW TO THE EAST
Reading haiku
in the limb veined dawn
I do not long for spring
Author Archives: neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
MONARCHS ALL A FLUTTER
MONARCHS ALL A FLUTTER
I wonder
what that
papillon is on
Reeling from
too many sips
of purple flower wine
I feel fine, I feel fine
but does anyone
here know
the way to
Mexico
THE NEW HOUSE
THE NEW HOUSE
In Boulder Dorsey gets in touch
with her inner artist
and Judith’s lovely new home
On the early morning flight she says
“We need a house that’s a work of art”
and I say “Yes dear”, which I almost
always say – and before the end of the day
a short cut through the neighborhood
a little sign on the corner
a house we’d been in before
a work of art for sure
purple and blue on the doors
scrabble tiles in the fireplace and
gemstones in the floors
so we went by for tea and a look
the rest is history
and a few poems in this book
OREGON IN WINTER
OREGON IN WINTER
The big plane slows, mists rise to meet it
droplets begin to play along the windows
My body, mostly water
falling through clouds, mostly water
I have been traveling some
The water in me comes from
the limestone caverns of Austin
the rivers of Upstate New York, and
million year old glaciers in the Rockies of Alberta
The clouds have been around the world
rising and falling as river, air and sea
Quiet now, as I am
I can feel them meeting again
hear them, telling stories
VALENTINE 09
VALENTINE 09
Every Saint Valentine’s day
one should write a poem
to their beloved
Not just to remind them
how lovely they are
and your bursting desire
to show it
But also how lucky you are
to know that you know it
BACK TO SASKATCHEWAN
BACK TO SASKATCHEWAN
After mountains piled on mountains
trees crowding trees and
sense sating cities
a cleansing fast of horizon
NEGATIVE SPACE IN NEW YORK CITY
NEGATIVE SPACE IN NEW YORK CITY
At the Guggenheim
they make a big deal
about the negative space
between the right arm
and the body
of Picasso’s “Woman Ironing”
Which makes sense to me
as a boy from the prairie
Since I have often been told
that there are many
beautiful buildings in this city
And yet have only seen
a few tops and sides
My gaze always glancing
off glass and stone
In its wild rush
to grasp and embrace
any small piece of sky
THE INNER CRITIC ON HOLIDAY
THE INNER CRITIC ON HOLIDAY
You will get lost in Paris
it is not your fault
it was planned that way
You may find it unforgivably gauche
not to know the left bank from the right
Let it go
It is not necessary
to criticize oneself here
they have waiters for that purpose
And looking out, not in
you may stumble Americanly
upon Marie’s little side street shop
with bread as new as the cheese is old
and a three dollar wine to bridge them
or catch a brief glimpse
of that seriously happy young man
pedaling down the very center
of the Champs d’Elysee
one foot and a base fiddle
resting on his skateboard
INNER CRITIC AT THE BEACH
INNER CRITIC AT THE BEACH
Sand, sand, sand
and perfect bodies tanned
And the same sand-paper line
not mine, not mine, not mine
WITH APOLOGIES TO DAVID SUZUKI
WITH APOLOGIES TO DAVID SUZUKI
In the center of
a great Pacific gyre
fridges, bottles, nets and wire
circling like a rotting tire
a fast expanding garbage heap
larger than the state of Texas
and a hundred meters deep
Plastic choking bird and beast
who in error on it feast
A concept difficult to grasp
especially when forcing rhymes
It helps to think of a woman’s purse
multiplied a hundred million times