Page IV
 






Poems for a Small Place to Rest
 
 
 
 
 

Footprints in the snow, I walk the other way
 
 
 
 

The waterwheel that turned and
turned, then rusted:
what dreams it has of spring rains
 
 
 
 

Dragonfly lights on my finger -
                       summer reed sways
 
 
 
 

Autumn close to the edge of this
              evening -
I don a heavier jacket
 
 
 
 

Tide goes out, we go across, clammers dig deeper
 
 
 
 

The bowl is empty, but the flies keep coming back for more
 
 
 
 

for M.R.

More or less: one apple
         sliced in half.  Delicious!
 
 
 
 

In the tall grasses
among the crickets -
rain-song
 
 
 
 

If I have to spend another night alone
I think I'll die, I said
and two nights later say the same thing
making a liar out of me once again
 
 
 
 

At the outhouse door:
a swarm of flies,
well-wishing
 
 
 
 

I see my reflection -
field of buttercups,
faces turned toward the sun
 
 
 
 

The sea is open, everything goes down
 
 
 
 

The windchimes are silent now -
Poet, catch your breath
Then, speak up
 
 
 
 

Heart that breaks so easily - Tell me, how is it the autumn
                   geese find their way back?
 
 
 
 

The chair beneath me creaks -
My bones already weary
in their grave
 
 
 
 

Tonight I sleep without pajamas
the pillow snug between my legs
And dream all night of being with you
 
 
 
 

By the outdoor spigot
irises bloom -
the man I love,
his eyes are deep blue
 
 
 
 

Only great poetry moves both heaven and earth
Imagine that -
Science has been sweeping the dust
from the wrong corner of the universe
 
 
 
 

If it's all the same to my friends
I could do without them
but then, again....
 
 
 
 

Everything before is of no matter -
the only obligation is to wake up
 
 
 
 

Little cricket, no fear:
there are grasslands enough
for both of us, still
 
 
 
 

Two willows
lean into each other -
old couple
 
 
 
 

I want to live to die a thousand little deaths
and each time come back singing
with a voice like water
and clear to the bottom
 
 
 
 

Out roaming spring fields:
the walking stick
I left somewhere behind
 
 
 
 

The philodendron sends out
              its new leaf, pale green
and draws me near
 
 
 
 

Glass jar with fireflies -
                     Light enough for haiku
 
 
 
 

Stepping out the front door -
honeysuckle fragrance -
O now I want to live forever
 
 
 
 

From a tiny bit of yard, the hummingbird's nest
 
 
 
 

To defy all sermons -
write the holy words down
 
 
 
 

They're easy to find: the path ends where the wild roses begin
 
 


Poems for a Small Place to Rest:   page 5   page 6
 
 

CONTENTS
 

The Day After    page 1
Poem Against the Reagan Administration    page 2
At a Rally in Washington Against the Draft    page 2
America Revisited    page 3
Poems for a Small Place to Rest    page 4  page 5   page 6
What He Would Not Tell Him    page 7
Waking Poem    page 7
Moon    page 7
Laborers    page 7
Spring 1980    page 7
Lebanon 1982    page 8
As the Latin American War Approaches    page 8
Poem for Immediate Disarmament    page 8
To Whom It May Concern    page 9
Song of the Little Girl    page 10
 

to the collection The Book of Awakenings