The utter duckness
of a small black duck gliding
down a seamless stream
A wine like our lives—
berries and pepper above;
underneath, a rose
A train’s lonesome horn
punctuates the lowly drone
of a passing plane
*
Sitting in a pub
drinking wine while the sun sets
in eternity
Seen through a window,
one pinwheel spins in the breeze—
my own whirling life
Such pretty people
doing spectacular things
for us on tv!
*
Cloud faces kissing
as they roam in an ocean
of sweltering sky
Stone still, serious,
awaiting the appearance
of the mysterious
Maybe the point of
growing old is noticing
ever more and more
**
Toddling through folly
but unashamed of oneself—
like Mister Magoo!
When I drink a glass
of wine, it’s always for some
higher purpose...
My friends, I must say:
one glass of wine is really
not very much wine!
*
He told all his friends
“The key to the kingdom’s not
texting!” via text
What saint strives to save
our souls more fiercely than he
strives to save his own?
For much of his life
he prepared for an attack
that never happened
*
Were all of these friends
I’d known before quarantine
just phantoms from dreams?
After all, music
is really just a kind of
fanciful silence
The deeper sleeper
tends to see his waking life
as another dream
.
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