Monday, December 31, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The World Doesn't Stay
The world doesn't stay
where you want to
put it. The smell of
the autumn prairie
follows you into
the house, the smell of
the river. The house's
smell follows you out.
WIND DOESN'T
Sunday, December 30, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Just When
A DECENT MAN
Saturday, December 29, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems
SOMEWHERE IN SUMMER
Somewhere in summer
the young ones
undressing each other.
Here in winter,
the old ones,
blankets on our laps.
Friday, December 28, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Either This
SOMETIMES THE POEM
Thursday, December 27, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: This Is
EVEN AFTER RAIN
Even after rain
the solace of stars.
There they are,
at least where they were.
The sky turns them,
and we turn with them,
back towards hope.
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: You May
ANOTHER MORNING
An old
cow bellers.
Far off
something else
is singing.
This is
all you know
today and
today it is
enough.
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Disappearing
Ha, says Coyote,
we don't need darkness
to disappear, as he
does before my eyes.
Red grass is enough.
NOTHING YOU WANT
Monday, December 24, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Singing with the Coyotes
You won't see them unless
they want you to. They don't
care if you hear them singing,
or if you sing with them.
How simple that is to do.
How hard when they are gone.
THE POET WALKS
Sunday, December 23, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Somewhere Coyote
SNOW DRIVES
Snow drives the morning,
the light full with it.
The easy thing to do
would be to turn back, but
the past won't have us.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (33)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Say You Don't
WHAT MORE TO SAY
What more to say
when the morning
turns. The snow,
the trees, the birds
all go against
the grey sadness
in the distance.
Fold your hands.
Let them warm
each other.
Friday, December 21, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (32)
Winter's cold
is not what
I want to
leave you with
as you go.
It came with
the season
and I can't
send it back.
RANDOM DECEMBER (31)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: How the Wind
How the wind
loves the grasses.
The grasses sing
of nothing else.
The world doesn't
need the likes of us.
It has all of this.
SOMETIMES THE BLESSING
Sometimes the blessing
is not the blessing
you want. Grace is
her own mistress. She
won't be taken
by force, won't be
seduced. Patience is
her friend, and yours.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (30)
RANDOM DECEMBER (29)
I am an oak
man myself,
especially white
oak, which is
tough when being
split and which
doesn't let go
its leaves til
spring. Of course
the white oak
doesn't know it's
being tough.
It's just being
white oak.
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: No Gates
No gates
where the poet
wants to go.
It's over or
through the fence
which tells us
what to do.
Like coyote
we have to
find a way.
HE WAITS
He waits,
heavy with
knowing
and the stars
wait too,
ticking and
turning towards
what the dark
cannot keep.
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (28)
RANDOM DECEMBER (27) THIS MORNING
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Okay, Friend
WE PASS THROUGH AIR
We pass through air
and light no more
aware of either
than a fish of
water. We see
the shadows which
follow us and
think their darkness
the only
darkness that will.
Wisdom isn't
simply knowing.
It is also
honoring all
that is holy
in the darkness,
in the light, in
the very air
which surrounds us.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (26)
RANDOM DECEMBER (25)
Winter
wind
against
the house.
Light and
darkness
in this
moment.
Something
ancient
seeking
entrance,
something
ancient
pushing
back.
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: When
THE MYSTERY
The mystery is
out there, in
a universe
beyond my
understanding,
not here in
this home-made
thing, the poem.
Monday, December 17, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (24)
RANDOM DECEMBER (23)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Not Perfection
TO TELL AS MUCH
Well, yes, I want
to tell as much
truth as words can
carry, yet truth
itself knows
only as much
as the grass
in hard wind
can offer.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (22)
RANDOM DECEMBER (21)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Not Morning So Much
Not morning so much
as the sun off
Buffalo Creek
in my eyes with wind
and the tears which
come from loving
this world too much.
THAT SUNSET
That sunset,
the horizon
far from that
farm grove.
All these years
not knowing
what I wanted
is beyond
understanding.
Some of it
this side of
what is seen.
Some of it
the other.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (20)
RANDOM DECEMBER (19)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Oh, Yes, Our Friends
Oh, yes, our friends
the coyotes are
methodical
taking her apart,
the dead cow
along the creek.
Blessed Lord,
they say, thank you.
ONLY FOR
Friday, December 14, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (18)
RANDOM DECEMBER (17)
The wind makes sense of dust
and of leaves in the trees.
Water makes sense of mountains.
The light knows all, without
the need to think about it.
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Cricket
Ever so
lonely
against
cold autumn
the cricket
stops as
I pass.
We know
the end
is not far
off. Yet
these tears
are wind,
friend, not
sorrow.
MYSTERY
Thursday, December 13, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (16): AFTER THE SNOW
RANDOM DECEMBER (15)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: You Can Say
You can say
you saw seven
coyotes cross
the field, Tom,
but who would
believe that
a hawk went down
on something
right this moment.
THE LINE
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (14)
RANDOM DECEMBER (13)
Without the darkness
we would not know
the return of light.
Nothing is given
that is not blessed in
a turning season.
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Coyotes
Some things
looked for
can't be seen.
The coyotes.
And then
two of them
come for you
out of the
blindness of
your side-eye.
WHAT STARTED AS A CRITIQUE OF MS. ROSE'S POETRY
If every poem
has cicadas
you've got a
problem. Though
I admit to
wind and darkness
in very many,
and birds and grasses
and hope for light.
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (12)
RANDOM DECEMBER (11)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Poet Goes To Work
Almost like a priest
kissing the stole,
putting on holiness
for the moment
in these hills with
the coyotes, with
the cottonwoods who
yesterday let go,
leaves everywhere,
and who, today,
let him let go.
EVERYTHING / THAT RISES
Everything
that rises
enters that which
wants to take it.
Morning is as
morning does.
Each moment,
the sun
coming up.
Touch it.
Monday, December 10, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (10)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: What I Know
CROWS/FLYING
Sunday, December 09, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (9)
RANDOM DECEMBER (8)
Water-color sky
hard as iron,
cold, unforgiven.
All the light
hidden. Morning's
meaning is
left unspoken.
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: These Are My Footprints
These are my footprints
I'm following back
to the house. You go
out, you come back. What
the wind takes returns.
What you give, you get.
Go out and come back.
Find a way to home.
CALL HIM STRINGBEAN
Call him Stringbean,
crow on the road
with offal dangling
from his beak. One
foot, then the other,
his strut, meaning
"It is what it is.
Let's eat."
Saturday, December 08, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (7)
RANDOM DECEMBER (6)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Such a Loveliness
Such a loveliness,
wind in the grasses,
the soft rim of hills,
a heart like that pond
full to overflow.
If you can't find it
here, you won't.
THIS HAWK
Friday, December 07, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (5)
RANDOM DECEMBER (4)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: The Morning
HIGH WIRE
Thursday, December 06, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (3)
RANDOM DECEMBER (2)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Poetry at Wishin' Jupiter
- for Karl and Suzanne
Out here among these soft hills,
the poems will write themselves.
When you can't think what to say,
listen to the sky, the grasses.
Listen to the cricket. Then,
if you wait, patient, the wind
will tell what you need to know.
IF THEY TAKE NO POET
If they take no poet with them
to Mars, who shall keep their memories,
who shall make and say the poems
they will need like oxygen?
Wednesday, December 05, 2018
RANDOM DECEMBER (1)
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Nothing I Say
Nothing I say
to the grasses will
make a difference.
Everything they say
to me, somehow, will.
And the wind speaks
through them, and the wind
means business. It says:
You are smaller than
the sky. You are smaller
than the cricket. Smaller
than this grain of sand.
OUT OF A WEB
Out of a web
of which the words
say themselves.
The poet bolts,
surprised, for the door.
All the way home
the piggies going
Wee, wee, wee.
Tuesday, December 04, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: A Pair of Hawks
A pair of hawks
white of wing
underneath,
taking the wind
where they want
above these
grasses, looking
for the hills'
hidden creatures
or simply looking,
as I am, again.
EVERY MORNING
Every morning
this morning.
Somewhere to be.
Something to do.
Grey sky. New snow.
The wind and everything
slanted. Disregard
the omens
at your own peril.
Monday, December 03, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: You Go
You go
far enough
the world
goes away
and
the world
comes closer
than you've
ever seen it.
You just
have to go.
WHERE THE HAWK HIDES
Where the hawk hides
in this greyed light
is where the poet
finds his hope.
You can't pretend
it doesn't matter.
Sunday, December 02, 2018
from The Wishin' Jupiter Poems: Who Walks These Hills
Who walks these hills
knows wind and sand,
knows the grasses,
the sound of cottonwoods
in the distance,
the small birds singing,
the chirp of crickets,
what God meant, saying
Let there be light!
ONLY FOR
Saturday, December 01, 2018
from The Wishin'Jupiter Poems: The Old Man Climbs
The old man climbs
a sandy hill.
They are brothers,
this man and the
sand: they are
both stuff of the
same dead stars,
but reconfigured
somewhat differently,
at least for now.
IN THE SEAMS
