art music poetry

and so I sit
alone
yet never alone
for you are here with me
and these black and white scribbles which we call words
join us somehow
and make the frozen winterland the same somehow
as the balmy beaches
and the fact of our locations,
the very facts of our lives are
somehow joined in these
intentions of greatness
and of course not knowing even what that is, we
we
we
try
and we
we
we
fail so here we are again
in the winterland, on the beach
with this inability to say just what we mean and by
the very nature of our confusion we
we
we
try again
***

futures

and now my love, these words
painted in an imperfect world
cannot be more than
graffiti on a subway wall
but is Wordsworth
not graffiti
on a subway wall
is Hitler ever dead
ever a burned corpse in an old film
ever dead
ever waiting
or
in the matter itself
always there
the laws of science say that all is decay
all is decay
so what are we to do
what is the element which is our catalyst
try anyway
that is what we are to do
say it anyway
do it anyway
be the ball
***

Worry and debate
sends hope far away
seldom do windows open into
reality
seldom do poets cry for nothing
for hope maybe
for love surely
for nothing never.

Simply write he says
simply write.
Do not stop to think.
Thinking is out of vogue with me.

Carry me there to the edge of
the water
to the side of the cliff
so I may see the river
so that I may hope again
hope for the natives who walked these ways
hope for me
again

***