what is the mind, my lord?
words to banish words and make
the sounds and senses vanish
like lonely moving lights at night
look neither here nor there
for words that finally declare
that they might still the clatter
and set the matter right
No rest yet
Be still … but still the words are waking …
A jumbled mumble from where they are
Until they wake me with the lines they’re making …
They rise in me from somewhere near and far.
A poet asks where are the snows of yesteryear …
They’re here yet there with suns and winds and rain,
the girls and you and me as once we were,
as now we are and will be once again.
Life’s little puzzle
What it is or was or ever will be, I don’t know,
though I’ve looked from Nothing to Never-to-See.
It comes and it goes, and it shrinks and it grows,
it moves with the sun and follows the stars,
never seems to get done or even to start.
It may not be an it after all, it may be a those.
Time, time and times – we do and don’t know.
Very good times
Sixty years with the right woman –
we’ve made a very good pair.
Whenever one of us faltered
the other was always there.
We knew we were two when we met –
we had some very good signs.
And now with two wonderful daughters
we have some very good times.
On the occasion of my 86th birthday, 5 Oct 2011,
and the 60th year since Dawn and I met at the
University of Miami in the mathematics office