The Middlewesterner

"It is a foolish
poet who says

Poem, do not
bother me while

I'm working."

*

"Ha, world! I have
written a few lines

and the sun hasn't
even come up."

*

"You want to be
a truck driver, you

have to come early,
stay late, and take

abuse like a poet."

Bottom
of a great

ocean,
these dark

fields.

Crow has no
hold on the cold.

Summer, though
distant, is

coming. Winter
is remembering.

Wind and sky -
which is wider

in grey April,
and which

hugs the hill?

Low lay of morning
on the marsh,

a grey sadness
rising.

Red-shouldered
sergeant of the marsh,

the red-winged
blackbird

takes command.

"The poem leaves
the porch light on.

If not, it's not
much of a poem."

*

"The poet
cannot expect the poem,

only accept it."

*

"Don't count your stresses.
Don't count your lines.
Don't count your poems.

Just write the damn things.
They'll sort it out."

Ah, bird, wind-
flower in

our sky - spring
has come, and

you with it,
gift of the

equinox.

Oh, crow,
splitting

the sky -
we wonder

what catches
your eye

on a grey
day, rain

on the way,
not enough

sweetness,
too much

pain.

"You don't have to
agree with your friends.

In fact, why
would you want to?"

*

"Leave early.
Travel light.
Love someone

more than you
love yourself."

*

"It is good
to have a short
memory, so you

can't quote yourself."

"One to a page is fine,
as if poetry is not

a waste of paper."

*

"Writing poems in darkness
is what poets do.
Why should you hope otherwise?"

*

"How to write
a few good poems?
Write a lot and let

the few odd ones
surprise you."

Small bird
in the far sky -

desire's
the fallen star.

Trees


just starting
to remember
what spring


is.

Spring
barely sprung

and already
it's undone -

another storm.

Duck, duck, ducks
swimming in
the empty field -

spring has come
to Wisconsin.

"If it doesn't
want to go,

wait. You are
not ready

to take it."

*

"How much hinge
can you remove

before the door
falls off?

That's always
my question."

*

"Put on your
nakedness
like a blessing.

Open yourself
to the universe.

Listen and bleed."

"Leave half a sheet of blank paper
before you on the empty desk -

something will want to fill it."

*

"You seem to think I'm
falling farther behind.

Actually, I'm not
going where you are."

*

"How much is too much?
There's a line. You don't
know it til you cross it."

Spring, leaving us
a thousand greens.

Full moon
over great
sadness.

How many
have died,
will die?

Again.

*

Those who
suffer so

see the same
moon I do.

*

Glow
of the moon,

our anguish.

*

Oh, sad moon,
remember

this darkness.

*

At the western
edge of sky -

now it settles
into sorrow.

*

Sun
works the
morning sky.

Moon
sticks to
its business,

which is
this sadness.

*

The taste of sadness -
ashes in the mouth.

*

So much
now,

the moon
must

hide itself.

"A poem?
That's when

nobody calls
and you

answer."

"The short poem must
stand alone and mean

more than it can be."


*


"It's obvious why we
need these roads. If
the trucks all went home,

there'd by no place
for them to park."

*


"Ha! Is poem
thought

well-chewed?"

Spring - morning
gauze at the window

with wind.