poet, interviewer, musician, traveler
bottle and balloons
today I put a note in a bottle
but I live far from the water
so instead I tied the bottle
to six red helium balloons
then I climbed onto the roof
watched them drift upward
until I lost them in the clouds
I’ve wanted to send this note
ever since that day years ago
seems unlikely it will land
in your yard, since you don’t have one
but I feel better knowing it’s out there
floating through the summer sky
30 July 2013
Auburn AL
all while imagining kissing you
I felt the hot shower water in my hair
stretched my sore back muscles
filled up Mason jars for sun tea
took a long walk in the hot sun
listened to sports talk radio
bought food for my birds
found another postcard in my mailbox
read messages from friends
read messages from strangers
texted you
left a voicemail for my sons
watched an episode of The Sopranos
emptied the dishwasher
put dinner in the oven, then ate it
played “Samba Pa Ti” on the ukulele
looked at a wall and meditated
got into bed, listened to a comedian
drifted off to sleep
29 July 2013
Auburn AL
counting snails
we called her name
shouted from the back porch
come to find out
she’d been out in the woods
all afternoon counting snails
she came back covered
in grass and leaves
cheeks streaked with mud
but smiling like it was Christmas
she showed us a sketchbook full of swirls
snail trails she’d copied
each one a little galaxy
gone almost before she could draw it
27 July 2013
Auburn AL
chana masala
over chana masala and nan
we fixed all the world’s problems
or at least convinced ourselves
that the grass was indeed greener
in other places we’d lived
when I got home I put on the record
I’ve been listening to again and again
funny how a voice can work its way
inside me, open all the doors
slip past every defense
lately I’ve been wondering
whether it’s possible to fall in love
with a voice alone
a series of organized sounds
standing in for touch and sight
as the next song starts
I think yes, it’s more than possible
and for the first time in years
I draw a hot bath, grab a book
and sink down into the future
26 July 2013
Auburn AL
the tricks it plays
(for ___________)
she’s in their apartment
wondering what happened
like putting together
the pieces of an intricate puzzle
when she doesn’t know
what the picture is supposed to be
she’s certain she used to know
as those early days rushed by
in a blur of skin and song
those days when an hour seemed
like a minute / when a second
could feel like a lifetime
now the clocks have stopped
and the house is quiet
even when he’s there
time is a thick, gooey liquid
through which she wades
toward the door she left open
25 July 2013
Auburn AL
satori on the East River Ferry
you are imagining
what it would be like
to have this conversation
on the East River Ferry
bridges on both sides
gulls overhead
standing close to one another
because you have to lean in
to hear her over the engines
Williamsburg is at your back
ahead lies an uncertain future
but you don’t care at all
because this moment
is what matters
24 July 2013
Auburn AL
Skilcraft pens
we had dozens of these
when I was a kid
every one of the
identical black bullets
marked “U.S. Government”
my dad brought them home
they were on his workbench
and in our junk drawer
and beside the phone
Dad used them to write his
precise, blocky script
Mom made shopping lists
using the penmanship she’d learned
back when they still taught such things
I used them to create role-playing
characters (strength, dexterity, etc.)
and I imagine them on the desks of
millions of government employees
keeping track, ordering, remitting
running the daily business of the country
before computers replaced the need
for a pen and sheets of carbon paper
before every form looked the same
23 July 2013
Auburn AL
prisoner’s cinema
sitting quietly in meditation
looking at the wall, I see
your face in the grain of the wood
the whorls and knots and loops
become your eyes, your mouth
the smooth curve of your jaw
at night, while the rain beats against
the skylight, I hear your voice
the rise and fall of its melodies
accompanied by the percussion
of the falling water
walking through the humid air
of an Alabama summer
I feel your fingers slip into mine
I turn my head to smile at you
see only the silent houses
22 July 2013
Auburn AL
/ / /
This poems was inspired by the first episode of the podcast Here Be Monsters.
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a list poem for lovers
let’s kiss on a rainy bridge
while a lone busker plays the saxophone
his tattered umbrella keeping off the rain
let’s buy fruit we can’t identify
in a market in Vietnam, negotiating
the price with hand gestures and smiles
let’s lose ourselves in the winding streets
of an Italian village and ask for directions
from a nun carrying a basket of flowers
let’s make elaborate dinners for our friends
filling the house with the smell of garlic
tasting it hours later on each other’s hands
let’s make love in a park after closing
staying quiet to avoid the occasional cop
some clothes on and some clothes off
21 July 2013
Auburn AL
/ / /
The painting: Lovers, 1870. Pál Szinyei Merse. Hungarian National Gallery
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your voice makes me
let’s be real:
your voice makes me
want to write
love poems all day
and since that’s not
the most productive
use of my time
I think it’s best
I stop listening
I can stop any
time I want to
so I’m stopping
…as soon as this song
is finished
…or maybe the next one
20 July 2013
Auburn AL
a sign that I’ve missed some fairly fundamental clue
about the way life is supposed to work
there is a list of lessons
about how to be content
included on the back of this
bag of potato chips
29 July 2013
Auburn AL
timing
there are some folks
you meet at the right time
there are some folks
you meet at the wrong time
and some about whom
it is too early to tell
18 July 2013
Auburn AL
this isn’t the first time
for John Coltrane
this isn’t the first time
I’ve tried to capture you
between the lines of a poem
as if any collection of letters
could do justice to the
staggering power of your art
this isn’t the first time
I’ve tried to describe how I felt
the first time I heard
“My Favorite Things”
and realized I’d just been shown
the door to a new universe
this isn’t the first time
I’ve wondered whether anyone
will ever burn again
with a fire as intense as yours
a fire so bright it was hard
to look upon or listen to
this isn’t the first time
I’ve wanted to say to someone
LISTEN TO THIS
CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT?
to watch their eyes as they
make first contact
this isn’t the first time
I’ve realized how much I owe you
how the course of my life changed
because of what you did
how you showed me a distant land
toward which I could point my little boat
17 July 2013
Auburn AL
in a name
we already had
the same first name
so when we decided
to become one
having the same
last name
just made sense
and while it may
be harder to call
to one of us
across a crowded room
it’s easier to understand
that we took two
distinct lives
and made one
stronger life
from them
16 July 2013
Auburn AL
Mother Nature, the poet’s friend
you can forget
most of a day
to write
only to be
reminded by
the distant
sound of thunder
15 July 2013
Auburn AL