Author Archives: neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com

MARY OLIVER

MARY OLIVER

Of all the poets I admire
only one did I envy

How she could take us all on her journey
remind us of the wild beauty of our lives
and the soft animal of our bodies

It is disowned parts of us I know
that we hold too high or low

And yet I wanted to go where she could go

This year in the merry month of May
on a trip in search of other things
a book I didn’t know she’d written
in a town where I didn’t know she lived

I hung five days like her hummingbird
on the green wheel of its wings

Her flowers were my food
her town became my town
her dunes became my dunes

Sip by sip on that Cape Cod shore
I began to envy her less
and love her more

And that pretty green stone
I was taking with me
I threw it back into the sea

KURT

KURT

I am sure that the life
of my dear friend’s brother
held great meaning for a great many

He will be missed

My poems will miss him

He would take them down
into the greatness of his being
wrap them in music and meaning
and sing them back out to the world

I am sure that Kurt touched many people
in ways they have not been touched before
nor will ever be again

My poems join in the mourning

for that touch

REED BETWEEN THE LIONS

REED BETWEEN THE LIONS

My mother’s will was always
stronger than my won’t

My father’s won’t was always
stronger than my will

Caretaker soft or Cowboy strong

How quick I learned to change my face
to face the faces that I faced

And’

I can still spin that mirror now so you
can see the face you want to see

But neither you nor I will know
which one is me

BLUE EYED BOY

BLUE EYED BOY

Blue eyed boy
blasts off from breakfast like a quail on a rail

Collie dog leaps on board
and they’re off across the prairie
barely touching the tops of hills

Sun gives warmth or cloud gives shade
all depending on his whim
birds and rocks and swaying grass
everything living embraces him

Burrs don’t stick and thorns don’t prick
even fences joining in the play
happily turning their barbs away

Floating along on the wings of four
not long now till they slam that door

BLACK HILLS OF DAKOTA

BLACK HILLS OF DAKOTA

The red man mines his life for irony
while the white man tears the earth for iron

But treaties protect the sacred stones
as long as rivers flow and grass grow
Paper covers rock
in the Black Hills of Dakota

Gold in the Black Hills, end of treaty
Scissors cut paper
in the Black Hills of Dakota

But sacred stones outlive them all
Rock breaks scissors
in the Black Hills of Dakota

A DEBBIE MOMENT

A DEBBIE MOMENT

I was noticing again the other day
watching a movie, strangely enough
called “Remains of the Day”
that even though you died
you haven’t gone away

In the movie
a bird gets trapped in the house
and tries to fly
through the high ceiling glass

Remember the time in the office in Austin
when the sparrow was trying in panic to
escape in this way

You spoke to it in your stardust voice
and it landed in trust in your hand

I remember the windows you flew against
and your trust so light in my hands

And it’s a comfort to see
you and the sparrow
both flying free

THOUGHTS ON A DEBBIE MOMENT

THOUGHTS
ON
A DEBBIE MOMENT

Debbie, a great friend of mine, died too young
and in too much pain in Houston about five
years ago now

This moment just sneaked up on me
earlier this year

Can’t help wondering how many people
are having Debbie moments now in New
York and around the world from what
happened just six weeks ago

How many people in the world in the last
five years having Debbie moments from
a hole blown in their sky