Doctors and poets need one another….

My sister is not distracted as she drives to work. Thank God she’s like she is- focused on the goal; i want doctors to focus.
Me, on the way to somewhere, usually talk to a thousand people, pause and look at the stars which are still out, lingering in stillness of morning sky, the shape of people’s hands in certain light, notice a dog or two and at what pace people are walking them, and how the light is falling on them as they do. And ask everyone, how they are really doing, and wait to hear their real answer! It takes me a long while to even go get a coffee for my wife!
Alas, a poet has a hard time getting from here to there, but they do notice the journey, and bless many along the way! I hope. But we rarely get paid for these intangibles in life!
And yet, i wouldn’t want a poet being my surgeon. They would get fascinated by the shape and color of the organs as they cut. The lighting would need muting, music playing…don’t do surgery by candles, unless you must, it’s a nightmare!
Each of us has their own unique gifts meant to serve one another with!
I’m glad for surgeons and for poets. We need both. One, on the front line of physical, the other on front line of the metaphysical. They probably are meant to work in tandem!
But, it’s hard to pray and drive at the same time. And, please, never do surgery with your eyes closed! I need that kidney!
It takes so long to get coffee for me, just ask my wife; but thankfully, my sister gets to work on time and saves a few lives. Perhaps, i get to save a few hearts and visions, along the way. We’ll see how doctors and poets dance together in the end, I’m sure. But until then, doctors and poets need one another! Let’s work together friends!

What Crows know

Crows only have one song
which they repeat constantly, all day long-one hit wonders
in their black iridescent suits;
unlike true songbirds who humbly learn from their
parents to imitate a 40 song-at least-repertoire from
the best of the birds around them. Still, crows-
they know their own song well enough
to be crows, which may be enough as a solo artist to make it.
They know squawk really well. And scatter,
at the end of each painting-as Van Gogh knew. And, like their cousins
the grackles, how to take french fries off a picnic table
while you’re not watching. And how to steal
cat food at night. And to serve at least Edgar Allan Poe’s poems with
their singularly unique squawking flight.
Crows know, at least that much.
Ok crow, squawk on. Maybe
your brazen glory will win the day.
But, i’m for the songbirds for the distance,
And the sheer entertainment alone. Still,
One song, sung well, consistently can make
A mark on our days-for sure. Thanks Crow.
I’ll promise not to scare you off as quickly, next time.

Only that sea knows love….

My art response to Rothko’s simple painting today:

There is sea, sky, and
the unseen swirl between
two worlds,
two lovers…on an edge
between- that
is,
us
all.
That
kingdom
is always
in our midst;
(war and love commingle)
but too
Rarely edged awake, or just
seen.
much less
lived in.
For only
Love
can live
there-
by that
Sea.

This poem is
About the sun.
The Sun
Told me you
Were a poem
Forever.
I felt it on
Our shared skin that night.
And then
We wrote it
Everywhere
On this world-we could be enough song for us all
Until, we were
Graffities of praise…or giraffes of wonder in some distant continent’s glaze or listening glisten…that is…
Wherever we rose
Into our morning names, together forever,
We were, even before-shining like this.

From when i lived in Paris as a younger man- another from the “written on my napkin series”, when i was younger and falling in love with watching well:
this cafe
in afternoon-
a portal-
this middle aged woman’s wrist leaning
towards wine glass in this type
of white sheer pen hole vignnetted sun tone,
a kingdom
in itself. A new wave of knowing, again simple things.
And the old man who runs the place
and has been
watching afternoons like this
forever. His
knowing
smile, having
taken it all in,
gathered so many
afternoons
into a bouquet.
So, by the end of
his life, having learned to see well,
a single afternoon-this is his
eternity.
And she finally
spoke
after having had a sip or two-“life is
how well
you dwell
in afternoon
with one
another.”

From Paris, when i was younger and falling in love with watching well:

this cafe
in afternoon-
a portal-
this middle aged woman’s wrist alone leaning
towards another wine glass in this type
of white sheer pen hole vignetted sun tone,
a kingdom
in itself. A new wave of knowing, again simple things.
And the old man who runs the place
and has been
watching afternoons like this
forever. His
knowing
smile, having
taken it all in, having
gathered so many
afternoons
into a bouquet.
So, by the end of
his life, having learned to see so well,
a single afternoon-this is his
eternity.
And she finally
spoke
after having had a sip or two-“life is
how well
you dwell
in afternoon
with one
another.”

Translating ancient wisdom poems today. This one a scandinavian monk’s-about finding The Sea and how it helped him find meaning in taking out the trash-or how knowing the sea teaches us the value of simple daily activities!

we sailed
until
we knew
the sea
then stopped,
came home
and took out
the trash.

in Icelandic it sounds more wise, i assure you!

við sigldum
þar til
við vissum
hafið
hætti svo,
kom heim
og tók út
ruslið.

a response to hasidism’s-the jewish mystical movement’s-future:

they taught
that God is immanent
and found in mundane daily life
that the supernatural could be encountered
while shoveling a ditch, cleaning your toilet, or
walking your dog; then,
Jesus came walking along
beside them, and He
agreed

listening to a mocking bird on my roof today

the mocking bird is not mocking
its talking for all the silenced birds ever
it remembers all their songs
it is not plagiarizing as supposed
all artist are thieves
we all sing other’s songs
but mocking birds just
impersonate better than most.

Jeremiah said:
they were radiant
over God’s goodness
in restoring the normal mundane-wine, oil
walking talking, taking a bath, seeing a new bird…
everyday things of life
to them
and they shone in thankfulness
like that forever
while they walked their dogs
and drank great wine.