"Doing His Part"

MP3 File

DOING HIS PART

He flashed his headlights

so the Honda could flow

into the stream of cars

ahead of him. He wanted

to help the world,

and this was one way

to do it. Death was a winner

all over the world,

but on this day in Westerly

one Honda was free

to follow the streets.

"To Do List" and "Writing a Poem"

MP3 File

TO DO LIST

Today he will fill glasses

full of water,

wish his words well

as he lets them loose on paper,

prepare meals that lift

off the plate into his mouth,

make little miracles

of thoughts,

throw feelings

as far as he can,

and carry the freshness

of the universe

on his shoulders.

WRITING A POEM

Staring at the computer screen,

he suddenly saw

that it was a sky.

He typed some words,

which spread their wings

and rose away.

He stood and cheered,

and the vanished words

cheered too,

wherever they were.

"Rhythm"

MP3 File

RHYTHM

He tapped his cane on the sidewalk

as he walked in the park.

He was proud

that his heart was tapping

to the same rhythm,

and it seemed right

that cars were passing

at a similar pace.

There was power in it,

like the power of pages

turning at a certain tempo,

or words on paper

calling out in cadence.

His Garden

MP3 File

HIS GARDEN

One summer day

he hung a small chime

from the ceiling

so it swung in front of the air conditioner.

He then called up some friends

and said he was sitting in his garden,

and could they hear the chimes

in the breeze. They said

he didn’t have a garden,

and he gave them the gift

of correcting him.

As they laughed,

he looked past the chimes

out the window

and saw flowers flowing

down a hillside.

Three Poems

MP3 File

A WOMAN HE SAW

She was sitting silently,

but her head

was constantly shaking,

just a little,

like a blossom in the slightest breeze.

He looked at her,

and liked the way wonder

seemed to be shaking 

inside him.

A GIRL ON THE TRAIN

She was so excited

to be going to New Haven.

Her happiness spoke to him,

though she was silent in her seat.

As he watched her,

something descended on him,

something soft

like excitement settling into his life,

thanks to this girl

going to New Haven.

IN PENN STATION

In Penn Station

he watched people walking.

Some were strolling

in a soft way,

like summer slowly walks away.

Some were rushing

as if sunshine and peace

was just ahead.

Others were thinking while walking,

throwing thoughts around them like sparks.

He, however, wasn’t walking.

He was holding all of life

lightly in his arms,

but the people walking past

weren’t watching.

HOW DOES IT HAPPEN?

In the park

they came out from some trees,

two kids holding hands.

How did this happen?

And the bird

that brought itself down

to the grass close by,

by what mysterious means

did it find itself there,

feeling the grass against its legs,

listening to the world wandering by?

And the trees nearby,

turning their arms to relax,

can anyone say

if something special

said they should do this?

And my legs just crossed themselves.

Does anyone know how or why?

TIME OUT

One day he decided

to stop getting new feeds,

favorites, and services.

Instead, he sent himself

down to the roses in the park.

He promised the sunshine

he would stay silent.

He listened to the wind’s words.

The roses were resting,

as was the planet itself,

as was the whole soothing universe.

So he sat on the grass

that gave its services

as softly as the roses.

HEALING

He knows that to heal

he has to be able to hold things

in an effortless way.

The sky holds its stars

with ease, the sands of all shores

hold sunbathers benevolently,

and please

holds a thank you in its hands.

He has to learn

to let himself relax

when he holds a word in his mind,

or a proud pencil in his hands.

He knows

what’s wrong will be right

when he holds

by loosening his grasp,

like the land does

when it lets him skip

and spring in happiness.

.

HER BROKEN HEART

Yesterday her heart was broken

into shards of silver and gold.

It shattered

and the pieces

spread across the sidewalk.

She shook with the misery of it,

but soon she noticed

that people loved those fragments

of her heart. A sorrowful man

found a piece

and placed it in his pocket.

A woman made a nest in her hands

for some small flakes,

and her students took some home

to help them live.

Even she herself leaned down

and let a speck of her heart

amaze her.

A THOUGHT FLOATS THROUGH HIS MIND

A thought floats

through his mind,

then dives and disappears.

Then a thought throws itself

into the sea of his mind

where other thoughts

are splashing and swimming.

Then a thousand thoughts

start sailing along,

their own captains,

capable of following

the farthest star.

Then he sees

that the sea of his mind

has no shores,

that it isn’t his,

and that he

is one of the thoughts.

Then it’s all rest

and recreation.

FREEDOM

It was a sudden feeling,

almost like the rush

of a shooting star across the sky,

or the setting free of sunshine

after days of storms.

He was sitting in the park

beneath a boundless tree,

when suddenly, there it was,

this feeling flooding over him like a river.

He sat still and felt himself

washing away on the feeling.

He let himself be carried.

He had come into this world

with cries of freedom,

and now he found himself free

on this feeling from nowhere,

with nothing important to do

but feel free.

...........................................................

WHAT HE DOES

He doesn’t surf or skateboard,

but he does hear wisdom

when it cries out.

He doesn’t run

with the best and the bravest,

but he does see simplicity

shining in a spoon,

or in someone’s shirt passing by.

He doesn’t go forth

with fire in his eyes,

but he does leave loneliness and sorrow

standing at the starting line.

He doesn’t always

attack his work with industry,

but he does have a shining appearance

when snow is falling.

.....................................................

MORNING SOUNDS

The sound of his breathing

is a mystery to him,

as is the sound of the drawer in his dresser

sliding open so he can find some socks.

It’s strange to listen

to the sound of mouthwash

swirling inside his cheeks,

or to the sounds of happiness

and sorrow balancing

and sighing inside him.

The marmalade on his toast

makes a sweet sound against his teeth

as cars speak in soft voices past his apartment.

He’s sure

there are countless amazing sounds outside

that he can’t hear –

trees expressing joy,

beautiful thoughts blowing across the country.

..........................................................

MOZART, STONES, AND TREES

He wanted to play

a Mozart violin sonata with someone,

but since he couldn’t play the violin

and didn’t know a pianist,

he went outside

and walked among stones and trees.

He saw the stones sitting precisely

where they should be,

and the trees taking each other’s hands

as breezes blew by.

He held his two hands out

and they folded together like friends,

and the trees and stones

stayed where they were,

and the time of day

was just what it must be.

................................................

THE BIKE RIDER

He knows all things are his --

the stones beside the roads,

the scraps of paper

scattered in the weeds,

the everlasting sunlight.

The gracious streetlights are his,

as are the unsurpassed coffee shops

and grocery stores he passes.

The swift-winged cars

that carry their precious passengers

to places destined for them,

the school buses with students

like lights in all the windows –

all these,

and the sweetness of his bicycle,

are his.

.....................................................

A MORNING BIKE RIDE

It didn’t exactly get his heart beating

when it started,

just a hesitant summer morning

singing its inconsequential song.

There wasn’t much to praise,

wasn’t much to raise

a smile to a face --

just a silver morning

with its gift of easygoing light,

just a quiet day coming his way,

just geraniums

shyly gesturing

in gardens beside the roads.

.........................................................

LOOKING FOR LIMITS

He sometimes tries to find

the limits of things like love.

Can you love only so much

and then it finishes at a fence

or peters out like a small stream?

Is love like a savings account

that could quietly come to an end,

and then no more money

or love? He thinks the answer

is no, for each day

he rides on a sea

that has no shore,

is borne along by breezes

that never began.

LAUGHTER

When’s he sad or stressed,

he settles himself down

and listens for laughter.

He knows it’s all around him,

in houses across the street,

in towns in his state,

in tall forests where friends

at this very moment

are making merry.

He sees in his mind

a world where one-third

of the people are probably laughing

with light hearts

right at this moment,

this serious moment in his life

when he’s so worried

about one thing

or another.

DEPENDABILITY

One day a wonderful plan

he had dreamed up

disintegrated in a matter of moments,

but still his breath

kept coming in and going out.

Another time, a tragedy took place

in his house, but his breath

didn’t break its rhythm.

Rain fell for fourteen days

one summer, but

it didn’t bother his breath.

His hopes have been burned

to cinders occasionally,

and the love of his life

lost color and passed away,

but his brave breath

didn’t notice,

never stopped being of service.

WANTS

He had thousands of wants

sitting on his shoulders.

One day he decided

to lighten the load,

so he wrote some wants on pieces of paper

and put them in rivers

to roll away to the sea.

Then he threw some wants

into the sky to see them soar

and slowly disappear like suffering.

Some wants were taken to a mountain

where they wandered away

like wintertime,

and others simply stopped breathing

and slipped easily off his shoulders.