Poems

In school
they say
we pass on what we know
to those who arrive unknowing
not the sum of our knowledge
but that portion we deem
important
we sift the mountain of experience
with pans and screens
seeking nuggets
weigh them in scales ir/
rational
choose those reflecting
the light of our present
infatuations

But this mountain is growing fast
not long ago a hillock
now a Himalayan range
tomorrow a planet
and you can argue
what's important
what should be included
(we do, O how we do!)
but fact is
you'd want to teach
your kids at least as much
as you knew, more
if you're not a seeker of Eden
hoping your children
will populate a perfect garden
where all they need to know
is how to find fireflies
and to laugh when
the moon chases
them running,
running

If I text you instead of calling,
It's only because I am a better writer
Than I am an extemporaneous speaker.

If, when texting you, I mention
The weather, it's because I have to
Slowly build up to what I really want to say.

If, after several texts, I say I'm sleepy,
It's because I trust you not to read anything
Into my falling asleep between texts.

If I text that I love you
I don't expect you to respond in kind.
Simply continue the narrative of your day.

If I end up calling you anyway because
My thumbs can't keep up with my thoughts
Expect long pauses while I edit in my head.

After you hang up in frustration
Expect one more text that starts out
With "I wish..."

If I said you were pungent and piquant
Would you be offended
Or could we explore
Some opportunities
Assured of all you are
Of what I am
In endless conversations
With no shoulds

The western sky tonight, what color was that?
Purple? Orange?
It was both and neither.
Bellingham bathed in indescribable light,
Purange?
Orple?
There is not a word for it.
This beauty, this wavelength,
That cannot be reproduced in photographs.
My friend Corey tried to capture it,
In photo after photo.
"Here's a picture of a sunset,"
He would say, "over Bellingham Bay."
"And here's a picture of another sunset,
I think I took this one the next day."
Dozens upon dozens, all alike, all lifeless,
Until I mocked him silent.
"This one is a photo
Of a photo of a photo
Of a sunset,"
I said, cutely.
This evening I regret my snide remark.
Tonight, as the colors darken, I wish for his success.
Keep trying, Corey.
Never stop.

in the long life of our
growing, on the way to this
state we call human, we learned
that if we could not walk it,
we did not need to know of it.

and so when we try
to conceive of distance,
metaphysical or physical,
it is all the same. we fail. thought
summons the lover from miles away,
the dear one long gone, to take
part in a present moment.
a disappearing distance.

how
is wrapped
in the art of dreaming,
conductive magic.
neurons and their secrets.
why
is as plain
as the smile on your face
as you wake.