Daily Observances

Sunday is a day for
taking stock of things
observed during

the week.  That red
haired plump boy
in bus yesterday

with likewise
plump rat-tailed
dad, handsome

friend.  Spring’s
mildness investing
autumn, walk

through park,
odd sense of ease,
no crowding, no

rushing.  Design
top of nerved
insistence.  Poetry

changes one’s look
as the painting,
walking down

ledge of park’s
lighted stone.
Library ceiling

immense height
of learning,
intricate joy,

two lives changed,
changing endless
others parade.

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Gone

Wander’s all gone now.
Just his boots lay on
the sidewalk this morning,
after they’d removed
a suitcase full of t-shirts,
a garbage bag of old sweaters,
stuff even Salvation Army
didn’t want, a case
of old casettes, a pair of boots.
That’s all that’s left, that
and the box of photos
and the valise of letters.

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Scott And John

It’s just a trip I took
half a lifetime ago.

I can’t get away from it:
it’s part of my psyche.

I can consciously submerge
or consciously summon it:

neither is satisfactory,
so I vacillate.

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