The Tang Astronaut Poem

Your hands at 8 and 4
Your two-tones through the floorboards
We're in the middle of Iowa
Going 80 miles per hour
Through fields of corn
Strong as soldiers


Windmills fill both sky
And imagination
Endless moment
In which to live

New petals surround our need

While sun centers the fevered garden

Rocks lie cool and light

In easy shadow

Delirious after a marble winter

Those sad memories are over

Soon we will take ship and

Together

Stream through a thousand mad springs

Playing to some soft breeze

And after loving those holy oceans

Put in at a vast white beach

Watched by the sky

Changed through parting

Yet freshly placed by time

Daddy, How I love ya, How I love ya

Father’s Day is a good idea

To celebrate our manly wisdom and sense of balance

Our steady vision and our strength in age

Kind of like Jack Palance

Movie stars are one thing

And real guys are quite another

It’s odd, but only natural

That all Dads should be brothers

We’ve all endured the hardships

Each Dad must face alone

Sons with a sense of independence

Daughters with minds of their own

We help and hurry and wait and worry

To our families it’s all the same

Dad will take care of everything

That’s how he gets his name

Is it strength by which we qualify

Raking leaves and shoveling snow

Or is it our mechanical genius

I really do not know

Daddy, Dad, and Father

We answer every call

And handle each emergency

As if there were none at all

We pass on our endless wisdom

As a gift, though it’s hard won

And though, at times, our tempers flare

We manage to have fun

Our responsibilities are boundless

Yet we meet each with a smile

It’s aging us prematurely

But we do it all with style

And though, sometimes, we're tempted

To go out for that fabled pack of smokes

This family life has its share and more

Of laughs and inside jokes

When things are rough and rocky

There’s always one who’s level

Look no further, family dear

It’s this talented, handsome devil

This way of living is an adventure

And sometimes full of treasure

And, if, at times, we must complain

There’s less groaning than there’s pleasure

A Father’s job is never done

It never is completed

And, though we’re sometimes on our knees

We never are defeated

And while the job may have no ending

Every now and then we get our due

When one of our sweet, unruly gang

Says, Daddy-0, I love you

You scream at music

But I'll overlook that

 

The last time she laughed

A world more difficult than this

Relaxed its haunted form 

And let passion flash full

Drunk with the night

Made mad with rhythm

A spirit of glorious amusement filled

Each open heart

With sweet song

So ripe and warm

So soft and deep

That every wild rose could imagine its soul

Changed from ancient dream to new symbol

 Is Beauty

Behind this business

of never having perspective

I've been aware

That I get weak

When I see her

But I would not tell her so

What if life was never the drama

You imagined it was

Only life and death and everything in between

Without any villains or monsters

Just an open canvas

There for whatever you want to make

No evil, no hero, no author but you

Day by day

From dust to dust

Always here, always now

 

 I changed my life

by giving up almost

and

willing only always

 

But now

My heart

Is

Full of a future love

It's an enormous ocean

It has eternity

As its vivid language

And has no agenda

But now

The Vows, The Wows, The Here and Nows

 

It’s a confluence of character

That could not have been predicted

The entwining of purpose

The alignment of perspectives

The nourishment of imagination

The cooperation of sensibilities

Brought together by a generous fate

A visitation of harmony

A reorientation of direction

An astonishment of recognition

An expansion of emotion

Unexpected, yet so clearly welcomed

The simplification of distance

The expansion of possibility

The measurement of commitment

The acknowledgment of responsibility

All this and more

A testament to bravery

An annunciation of hope

A confidence declared

A summation of dreams

A pledge to perseverance

A commemoration and celebration

Of a love gone large

Never to be abandoned

Automatic Bank Deduction

Go ahead,

take it all!

April Fools

April fools

Hoping for something

To move this mountain

Determined to see a sign in each

New discovery –

Breeze,

With a breath of green

Birdsong,

Announcing that cheerful hunger for light

Moisture milking its way

Both up and down, in and out of

Creatures and situations

They believe

Only seemingly smaller than themselves

Those fools

Each year making the best of a world

Lost to repair or reparation

Unclouded by the unfairness we all endure

Pretending change can happen

Don’t they know or realize

That this foolishness

Pales before our disappointment

The clouds flow toward us

Borne on the silver river

Of their own bright rain

True Love

She dropped her fork

and said,

"I can't see you anymore."

Later,

he was heard to remark,

"I'll never use a fork again."

To the Author

It's tough to fill those empty pages

With all those inky scratches

Like trying hard to start a fire

Without those stinking matches

First one word and then the next

You're building your libretto

It starts out kind of slow at first

And then moves allegretto

The characters begin to speak

Not knowing what to say

But soon you just can't shut them up

They're in each other's way

The scenery is beautiful

You stop and watch it all

Before you know it, spring is gone

And now it is late fall

The romance needs attention

To make it really right

It's obvious that they're in love

But all they do is fight

The plot is slowly hatching

So slow it makes you weep

You work it over breakfast

You talk it in your sleep

And then it really starts to move

It's living and it's breathing

You just sit back, it writes itself

You arrive home without leaving

That's what you've been waiting for

When eggs turn into birds

But what a lot of work it was

And what a lot of words

But now it's done, it's finished

It's not like any other

It only took a couple years

Hey, why not write another

We

We
Are two
Are one
Are we
You the sun
I the sea
In love
With love
With each
Are we
Are two
Are one
Are you
Are me

Beatnik Poem

The saxophone is wailing and the piano nearby is tinkling.
I'm reading some poems by a very dim light.
The ashtrays are full. My beard itches.
This turtleneck is giving me pimples.

And, all the while, in the next room,
some demented bongo player is trying my patience.
I'll howl at the moon, but I still won't know the difference
between here and now.
I don't care. I'll carry on.

Unidentified Flying Object

Was that a robin
or
a sparrow?

The Fishes Wish

The stream was streaming past
It was streaming extremely fast
Though much too rough for serious boating
The fish were there, serenely floating
Singing, “Life is but a dream”

The birds were in formation flying
As my friend, his hook was tying
He hoped to fill his empty creel
With enough nice fish to make a meal
But that’s easier said than done

The fish just thought him foolish
And the idea of eating them simply ghoulish
In a perfect world, we all are brothers
All us fish and all the others
But that perfect world lies elsewhere

The fisherman calmly waited
Thinking his success was surely fated
But their fishlike ways were wily
And their freedom prized so highly
That their life remained a dream

The sun was shining brightly
And his cares were resting lightly
Surrounded by the green
And sung to by the stream
He had a thought, a new one
That life could be a dream

The fish plainly stated their wish
Not to wind up on a dish
“We really think we oughta
Remain here in the water”
That was the fishes’ wish

A compromise was reached there
Between the water and the grassy banks there
This fisher and the fish decided
And have ever since abided
To be both content with singing
“Life is but a dream”

Happy Birthday!

Fatman's Prayer

Thank God for clothes.

Mendelssohn

The Wedding March is a wonderful tune
Felix composed it in early June
He married a girl in late July
It’s December now and he wonders why

He says it was all a Midsummer Night’s Dream
That things are not what they once seemed
His sweetheart then, has now turned sour
Each married minute is like an hour

A carefree man was he
Without words, but full of melody
His way was clear, his problems few
Before he uttered the words “I do.”

He ran away to Italy
To learn what happiness could really be
There he became a great sensation
Divorce, for him, brought reformation

In Awah Dah

Neek woo ze naybah. Moko no feenah zu.
In Hala Eeva, zu wah so fine. We nui
Za badah. E go like dis:

On a day so near le fah
A goo du ga me see so lah
A goo no me ah oh so sweet
De fu she no da nui neet
Dos lips sa wah nee fata yah
She so be sah in awah dah

Tu eetah oos a wah no fah
Me cuus she sah so nee no wah
See scoooo in Hu no fah dee bah
Ah gi woo she ah gi no bah

A Gesture to Exercise

My gesture to exercise
I call it.
This ride I take
each evening.
The dust rises behind me,
as I pedal by.
The hills stretch south
in a long line,
softened by the changing light
and comforted by the
blue of the fading day.

God knows, I need the exercise,
but it is the quiet view,
so vast and so still,
horizon to horizon,
that really brings me here.

Clouds hang weightless
above the green and gold
of the prairie
and, if I’m lucky,
I’ll see a hawk
on his way home,
like I am,
with the space and time
to feel how lucky he is.

Paper Crowns

We sit here with our paper crowns,
speaking quietly to each other,
turning right and turning left,
stopping occasionally,
reacting,
remembering,
lost in a wonder that includes everything -
the delicious light as it comes through the window,
the endless day that is passing,
the noble company around us,
the sad idea that makes us laugh
at ourselves,
here, with our paper crowns.