Exchange

last night barry i saw you
walk past the glass walls of the diner
and in through the door as i talked with my boss
who excused himself as you and i 
recognized each other

you still looked twenty-three
after these thirty-seven years
yellow shirt     brown jacket
cowboy hat and the hair still almost yellow
and delicate where it was bound in a ponytail

you nodded     got a coffee
sat at the table where the boss had sat
you were still twenty-three
clear skin clean eyes robust self-assurance
i was sixty and imagined myself desiccated

i couldn’t imagine what to say to you
we used to talk for hours together
you sprawled and set your legs parallel to the table
played with your mustache and took another sip
been years     you said

here i was at the edge of old age and
what had i really accomplished since i was young?
here you were     still the age you were when we met
all future     all coolness     all good humor knowing that the gods
still held you as their darling

what could i say to you?     what could you say to me?
i finished my coffee and said i was due elsewhere
over due really     and you nodded and put your hat on the table
i said good to see you then walked out the door
you were still at the table     snow crunched under my feet







from Yew Nork (2014)

Epaulet

i caught sight and was on my way
the building looked familiar appearing on doors and guys
zones of affluence and poverty     say
my old neighborhood never looked so prosperous

restaurant at then     too
store across the valley looking small crowds in their twenties
it’s no longer the house of fire i remember
laundromat and a small motel asleep calling it lunch

	my consciousness is made up of storefronts
	i go to a different one every night     the haze
	seems static that way     i like to stay there
	i stay on the same block for the rest of my life
	buses go by about three blocks from here
	my passport crawls     up my sleeve to my shoulder

from Yew Nork (2014)

My Ripped Shirt

a herd of crabgrass
an elephant snake sneeze
a philosophy of parthenogenesis
from the collected giggle in your pocket
a collusion of laundromats
that the sneeze not be narrow
that its path be epic and tropical
that the word laugh be named specifically as law
and that your satchel be not named chicken soup
	no murinated mountebank minnesinger
	imaginary amphibian hitchhiker
	entanglements of the liberty of roadmaps
	open decanter of the dilemma of mixed certainties
	let me sneeze as cosmically as i want
log    fossil    cremation    blue star    octopus telegraph jibber jabber
conflagration of hot work bench sweat
sunset lawn chair of mouse and rat torsos
trepidation of false furs at the counter of dimestore truth
hilarious explosion of tea kettles at the last word of the gettysburg address
the crown princess’ ruffles at the furthest edge of her dynasty’s solar system
	these petroglyphs are written in english
	ants swimming in fossilized water
	you’ve been singing them since babyhood
	my ripped shirt is having an anxiety attack
flags wave wildest when wildflowered apes are waving them
into their armpits and declaring it everybody’s national holiday
as fireworks invent themselves out of sawdust
and castle towers spurt glory openmouthed
excitement and lust are mere curves on your roadmap
their voice beyond idiocy
their truth beyond believing

from Yew Nork (2014)

Armweary Traveler

the statue of liberty is much less impressive if people wear hats in front of you
those eyes that remember everything that happened
from the point of some choice that you made when you were twenty-two
you the platform     the laundry blesses you as it hangs across the torch
and there you stand wearing california around your neck like an amulet

it’s strange having california hanging from my neck now
and it’s so huge you can’t move     speaking those accents
emotional threads wide as a treadmill obscuring every other direction
then you’re big     you’re supposed to choose
then disappear

the statue of liberty is much more impressed if you see it before it sees you
then she looks     then you think you’re so small you’re invisible
so you carry coney island around in your pants pocket for your last day here
she’ll spend her life in thrall to that image
as you wave your torch in celebration and sink knee-deep in concrete

and the statue keeps staring     staring
and blessed are the subways     their clattered tempo slowing
to become your heartbeat
she’s been my friend most of the time since i’ve been back
whatever of that beauty goes into your walk is worthwhile
you’ve made your choice     now you can’t get out of the way
so please come back with me to my hotel room night doesn’t set here
it made that decision when it first got out of college
the city’s lights redefine night any time of the day
and any day still sits still just west across the water

from Yew Nork (2014)

Moos

le t’sst art
le aw ake with th
e cows in theb ranch
es the irs ong
	the hope that
	though they sing
	none of them 
	lands on your shoulder
theh opet hough that the ysing
the ru mor sin the moo sic
the mosaic chat terof it so perating sy
stem lou den ough tos
sing the moon
	the quiet     relieved ex
	halations of birds
such moos
to hear it
so lightly
	its vert
	i calm e ado ws

from Yew Nork (2014)

Fast as a New York Sonnet

down this horizonless sidewalk of coffee
the buildings are supported by the doors of coffeehouses
the sidewalk runs as fast as caffeine will carry it
each step each stride each dance step its very own

some day     some say
the free music will end and you’ll have to pay the piper
for all the shoe soles you’ve worn out on these walks
but you’ll only have to teach the piper a new tune

	noah’s ark landed in washington square park
	it landed there over and over again
	at least every five or ten years it landed
	but lots of times it rains and washes the old footprints away
	people forget about that even with coffee
	that’s why this place is so wonderful

from Yew Nork (2014)

Notes for Auto Bio

i take my pasts     each
examine them
each in a sepia of its own dust
through which i can see
only when i look away

    one was college     natural but sometimes it stressed
    once my father called me
    a communist drug addict
    and generations of hands came down
    in the flick of a half second’s time
    and decades later i found myself asking
    exactly whose political mechanics i’d betrayed
    and how many of his own ancestors
    my father was betraying

in another i slogged on through thirty years
of full-time work on the gravity of nothingness
my fingerprints are all over its surface
but the box seems completely hollow
all but the details grown over
by layers of mechanical dust
seen through the stone age of my imagination
as on the mechanical back of someone else’s android hand

and the lifetimes of memories of people i’ve loved
    of your lives entangled with mine
    so many of you freed now
    in the mechanics of what could be called fate
    but is only a weird form of temporal physics

and my rage that time’s just another machine
with my and everybody else’s living meat
throbbing like pain momentarily held within it

from Auto Bio (2010)

Listen

listen to me    
i’ll listen to you
i’ll try to listen to everyone
who isn’t me
if you will too

so know    then
that we are all different joints
on different fingers of the same hand
and that there’s another hand as well
that we have never heard of
so listen    listen
if you speak i will listen
so that both hands can speak
and listen    and move
as two hands together

Written in late 2023

Invitation (for Judy)

so walk with me along this     ocean’s edge
the island     springs and rocks along the beachfront
the cold wind houses noises      makes the long walk reminiscent
of other seasons     when flowers sprang with faces
of bedeviled carnivores at war      have you tasted the ice cream?
smoky clouds still numb away the horizon
quicksand and a sputtering ocean     knick-knacks lined across the harbor
to talk about dream is silly as steam evanescent in the warming weather

someone has been bouncing bare toes on the beach
someone has been making sea lion sounds at the hot dog stand
someone has been celebrating weather by reinventing it
a long leap for landmass and a lush dance of sand
a trill a thrill a leap of words and bodies
a reanimation of the whole soul hallelujah i love you so

from Auto Bio (2010)

The Trip Back

a hurt youth     face garments of open sky and laceration
he was easier as an earthquake now
he flew on outstretched arms of his own leather
uncured and vulnerable     history pacing itself in its own gold threads

troubled     unsaid     the sign melodrama     ape awakened
and fake fits in the nursery     alive as inside his ribs
and take it as biography made uneasy
tumbled when born     but have always bartered

	steepness when chutes had already opened
	i call that beautiful because they wear their beginnings
	a child myself     stop myself there
	the chide is father to the monkey wrench
	i was crying over a spillover of red ant stings
	people wrestle all night with their own angels

from Auto Bio (2010)

The Sparrow at the Door (ChatGPT after Mary Oliver)

This poem isn't really mine. I generated it via by inputting the entire poem "The Mystery
of the Dancing Windows" (which is also on this blog) into ChatGPT and asking for a poem 
in this format in the style of Mary Oliver. I didn't ask for rhyme or for the last 
stanza. I think that ChatGPT isn't as good at generating poetry as it is at generating 
fiction (see "The Eldritch Mariner" on my companion blog Things I've Done for 
Blood), so poets may be a little safer than prose writers from AI "writing". 
Although the prospect of hybrid written/generated work is possible.



The Sparrow at the Door (ChatGPT after Mary Oliver)

Beneath the tapestry of time's embrace, 
A sailor from a bygone age did stand, 
Knives like shadows, a creeping lace, 
Upon his leg, a touch from some strange hand.

Windows joined the cosmic ballet, 
Dancing to the rhythms of the wind, 
A language only they could convey, 
In whispered tales that the stars pinned.

An hourglass, an ancient voice, 
Sang an aria of grains so fine, 
Each note a choice, each moment a rejoice, 
In the symphony of hours' design.

From plains, a sparrow's mystic flight, 
Badge and spurs, a tale to tell, 
A pizza's scent in the fading light, 
A messenger from some enigmatic dell.

Detective's gaze on the cellphone's screen, 
Not for words or messages, but fleas to seek, 
Mysteries in tiny worlds unseen, 
In the digital realm, a puzzle to peak.

"Ribbit, ribbit," the canary's call, 
Echoing through twilight's hush, 
A cryptic song that befalls, 
A chorus woven from nature's brush.

The emperor, with robes so grand, 
Bows not to realm, but inner grace, 
A moment's gesture, a whisper in the land, 
A monarch's humble, silent space.

Kumquat's revelation, humble and profound, 
Beneath its boughs, the earth does lie, 
Flat and still, beneath its sacred ground, 
A secret known only to the sky.
Before the stadium of feathers, a scene unfolds, 
Detective's voice a compass true, 
In tales of knives and mysteries old, 
The case unraveled, the truth in view.

In Mary Oliver's spirit, we explore, 
The sailor's journey, mysteries to embrace, 
Knives and windows, a symphony's lore, 
Nature's secrets revealed in gentle grace.

The Mystery of the Dancing Windows (or Feed This into Your AI)

a medieval sailor finds that a parade of knives is creeping up his leg

windows dance in response    an hourglass sings an aria

out of the plains just west of town a two-ton sparrow wearing a badge
and silver spurs stops at the sailor’s door with a pizza

a detective examines his latest cellphone for fleas

ribbit ribbit calls the canary    the emperor bows

a kumquat discovers that the earth is flat
especially under its tree

the detective explains to a stadium full of feathers
how the case was solved

Middle School

I       i extend great days
    	encourage youngsters
    	to be required by state law

    	all students will not run in the hall
    	all students will salute the food in the cafeteria
    	all students will enjoy their rodent lives in the film that
    	every student will have a current
    	you will take this task seriously
    	all students will lock their happiness and joy
   	whenever asked to by faculty and staff

    	you will invite your mother and dad to
    	one’s education held in the auditorium in december and 
    	the edge of a cliff may affect study materials
	
	you are here to learn


II 	each student is furnished the bell in emergency
    	each student will also be a phone number
   	home rooms are assigned in the anticipation that
    	are the lockers located in the students


III 	never wear which will not conform
     	to average adult employment

     	never open an attitude of respect
     	for a tin can of other students

     	dissections continue
     	until school is dismissed


IV 	during the animal’s sleep
     	modification will be fully gloved

    	you are arousable

     	the walls of the room      dissolve
     	to the hot wet inside of your ribcage

     	you do not need
     	to consult the principal or school counselor

     	you can hear the gentle breathing beside you

     	is also sleeping like you are

     	the side of an animal you cannot identify

    	its warmth radiates from you

V  	make it a point to know your counselor and dental appointments
     	a note from your guardian or parent or telephone
     	the note should include your upset stomach

VI 	zits are the flit gun wounds
	of adult hormones!

	grey is a mass of colors
	their admixture is worshipful!

	i hold your abrasions in my heart as useless
	i chamber within myself
	and volcanic explode in enthusiasm

	your cardface temple crumbles
	the hill on which it sat is one
	character in a lifetime of players

	     all you taught me was wrong
	     all i learned i hope was true
	     i salute you as a rock i step over
	     all the rest of us
	     walking
	     onwards

from Auto Bio (2010)

Business Art Sonnet

o suffle me loong foo rort
o suffle id doon o
fur the leem iss o o hardt
fur the hardt isso isso

prof ver a soaky soaky
noblique a hex itching rinds
so leek clog are c’t hollow
sof mir usiness hoggy so

	ganizat quaintance lict a lict
	nob purpo orcer amat o
	ti pladform bulltinis ape hex
	ti latdorm hey a haney haney o
	slob clog a rasende oser dex
	zat clog a rasende soaky soaky o





note: rasende is Danish for furious

from Auto Bio (2010)

Monday Afternoon

i’m gonna get tattoos

i’m gonna get little file cabinets 
tattooed all over my forehead

with all of the file drawers
closed

from Auto Bio (2010)

Peter Pan

this life i cast before myself like a shadow invisible to you
is my own private joke:
	sixty year old heart seventy year old lungs
	hid beneath skin     that looks twenty-five
someone mistook me for a student last week
almost all my friends look older than me
but they’re all healthier
	especially wendy
	who     is     twenty-five
people tell us we’re a cute couple
when’re we getting married
i think of her     almost as a daughter

it’s appearance that you applaud
mainly because     no one wants to see inside
	where it’s dark
	and there are thousands of cupboards
	filled with ripped hearts
	and hypochondriac livers
	and memories congealed in greasy plastic bags
	all in the dark
	with nails driven deep in the doors
	and coated with blood
	that long ago dried dead
	around them

from Auto Bio (2010)

From a Dream

last night i dreamed i was 
stuck in a room full of sleeping old men
and that it was the house where i grew up
and that i knew most of them
as my own mediocrities

the moon shone through one long high window
i marveled at its yellowness before clouds overcame it

i stepped carefully between the men’s spread mattresses
mattresses everywhere
these old guys two or three to a mattress
all asleep     half of them snoring
as i tip-toed in the dark until i got to the front door

where the rhythms of their snores paced the motion of my hand
as i reached for the doorknob in the weird yellow light

there was just enough space     to swing the door open
and stand in the face of the cold alien air
i saw the lawn     the street
the old sycamore that i remember from as early as i can remember
how quiet out there     deep three a m
i stepped out closed the door and the cold air took me
the snores seemed so warm     i could smell their breath
and taste their breath in my own mouth even away from them
nothing moved     even the squirrels were asleep
blocks away i could hear a car running

from Auto Bio (2010)

Life Among the Bubbles

this year made a nice family out of the garage
with pale green     then cream
fine     newest
winter
i suppose in a way winter’s new
lotsa pizzazz
with an earnestness that would impress any fair-minded person

have a glass of wine
relax
take an off-season vacation
hear voices
a physician in hell has no motility
so you won’t get any surprises

the sex
the sex
the sex

the bubblist movement 
that decisively broke with renaissance aesthetics
a twenty-two foot statue 
of a nude man with the head of a chicken

he found
a dark brown shard of pottery

she wears dark sox taking off her athletic shoe
it fascinates      the archaeologist
have been touched by a monk or a pilgrim

she gesticulates about an intellectual matter

you can almost put your finger anywhere here 
and discover antiquities
she wears black
her hands are more perfect
than any renaissance sculpture

we can’t stop construction
red plastic shoes
it required them to build a raised
o please don’t go upstairs     i don’t know you yet

the sex
the sex
the sex

from Auto Bio (2010)

Official Notice

we regret to inform you of the loss of your life
you may have missed it     it happened
several hours ago when the river suddenly woke up
and it became its own raft     your life
and rode the current into the blues of the sky
while you were still fighting     trying
to dig your eternal notion of a graveyard
to plot some way to institutionalize the clouds in front of you

	is it happy?     we don’t know
	it’s still ascending     not sending back any letters
	but maybe     if you go to the souvenir rack
	and pick out a really pretty postcard
	it’ll come back to you
	glowing

A Working Class Kid Goes to College

the floor     in the story     asked us to just be quiet
so we tip-toed around on the walls
wings tucked under our jackets
crowns having fallen imaginary
loose to space     past memory
the law of gravity undeniable as soiled undergarments

    outside the building toy animals
    a goat     a dog     a donkey
    an ox     a fox     a lynx
    a set of sixteenth century peasants
    plot revolution
    but none of them looks in the mirror for very long

the little black and white dog
the kind you see in roman mosaics
felt modern     tinted sunglasses now
and wagged his tail waiting
for those bulls with wings     those spirited ancestors
to greet him at the door

    his paw nails are longer now
    he can walk walls

    their tales of castles and finery
    were still cute to him     cute

    he knew all their palaces by name and reputation
    he didn’t know he’d never been inside one

these gods
he’d venerated for what seemed like thousands of years
could teach him to savor the birds
that he knew he could catch up with now
but for the uneasiness in his belly     still puffed up with dog food

he was known     he was sure later     for his foul breath

from Auto Bio (2010)

Expectant Buildings

last night in a swirl of dream
i walked with field gnomes
in the vacant lot where i grew up

they smiled so comfortably
in their small quick strides beside me
suddenly two singers called to them
from separate second floor balconies
and the entire slum around us was gone

so sing to me in the voice of the ocean
    that carries cities of fish in its tide
sing to me in the voices of sea bottom sand
    that the water smoothes into cloth in its ebb
sing to me in the voices of expectant towns
    that i hear near their infancy in the slow rolls of water
sing to me in the foam of the tide
    that rolls in like the lifetime of butterflies

so i found myself happy
in the songs of the gnomes
in the meadow where i grew up
in the bright field of flowers
with no nightfall
in dream

from Auto Bio (2010)

For My Parents

drawing their dreams
in carts
behind them

like horses
forever pulling bricks
for their own stable

making dragons
of small 
rubber-armed windmills

finding a field
too green
a road too rough for stopping

they want to continue
one generation
after another

here

on the same road
to the same place
just over
the same hill

from Auto Bio (2010)

Finding Bones

some day a dog will get loose
find the patch of land just far enough past the yard
dig them up     the bones     the ones
the police looked for for twenty years
before they got back into their cruisers
and headed for the home planet

the force of narrative will goad the dog
into carrying the bones home
despite their glittery brightness
their strange     really strange     taste in his mouth
and he will guard them as his own
despite the will of the pack leader in the house

even when you’re small some things are your own
a dog could think that     a dog can think
and they’ve found that the genes that make small dogs small
don’t make them think they’re small
the class system here is purely physical
and you don’t have to think about it
if no one else can steal your treasures

from Auto Bio (2010)

The Second Breath

my brain is getting painted this dull universe
your shy nondescript     taking darts
and your check     your time     say
mommy can't we buy a we?

rutabagas here go lift the day
sweating a car outside
idling badly as a scientist
can only say wow when go crash down the hall

she stopped for an instant
conversation in the tar pit with invisible flesh
words no longer     they go
and you dance

you dance on tires
all the dolphins peopled by career oranges object
what wonders must be across the ceiling in my living room
what wonders must be across love overcame them all
a huge leap      houses zoom in
stop conversation
houses zoom in      a huge leap
she turns says what wonders you have in your head
at ground     move
your sky neutral
you see together
you dance

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)

Good Earth

this is the excuse of pleasant folks:
medusa's head        bound by a silk stocking
is kept incognito inside a desk
open hands clap until they are housebroken
and cyborgs with dog heads
sniff
around perimeters of fish ponds
dreaming           of the blood          the blood

in the sunset come and go
singing of daily mop and glo

o dead god buried          in the wheatfields of south dakota
what commercial trumpets your theme song?
do you rise          like a missile          at night
wet-dreaming of marge the plumber?
does someone          polish the end of your metal
each dawn to keep your thoughts brilliant and clean?

we are all multicellular now
phone us

we are still searching the plains
looking for medusa's teeth
planted
inches deep in the soil

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)