Poem by Jim Culleny

Just wondering
if worlds seen from a distance
are really smaller than they are. . .
And could it be that when we sleep
the world we leave goes on without us?
..
Maybe you remember the old days too,
days when greenhorns multiplied their joys
and were thoughtless as a new moon.

Is it possible that from above
everything is seen through a rose window
bright as Venus, or is nothing left
to be seen between us?
..
Maybe you needed to spend some time
on your island being re-tuned.
Or maybe you were thinking I’d be
shoveling snow this morning
on the cusp of spring while you
relaxed on a breezy beach in sun.
..
But what I’d like to know is if
maybes still exist or if tomorrow
is so sure a thing.
..
So, are you still counting coup
on the enemies of the morning dew?But since I haven’t heard, I thought
I’d tell a newer tale— one of
thoughts we’ve never played,
thoughts naked as new babes
born today.

BTW, have you noticed something odd?
Nothing ever changes but the color
of the feather in the hat-band of God?

Could I
ask? Would you
reply?

What the
hell?

Could you ever say you caught a final
glimpse of the ghosts you fought?

You didn’t say, but I suspect
you’re still heaped in words,
a cornucopia of clever tangles
in our alphabet.

It’s possible this is one more mistake,
as if even God is not perfectly awake.

For what it’s worth, breakfast is the best meal of the day—
the sun’s a fresh egg, clouds are white albumin.
Ahead? —a pot with lots of room to stew in.

Guess I could just say something
to circumvent our broken
bridges of contention, and wrenched beams,
and frayed cables of suspension.If it’s not too much to ask,
how’s your weather? Mine is fine,
and yours I hope is
even better.

by Jim Culleny
3/22/13 Rev 3/9/25