Monday Poem

Everything passes and everything changes, just do what you think you should do …………………………………….… —Bob Dylan Flux You, Heraclitus! …. —for Brian Another lifelong friend has died Sunday part of me again has vanished too We were young together building things, partners, carpenters in sync we drove spikes through joists hammering steel to steel. You…

Monday Poem

August 18, 12:10 pm orange serpentine between sloped green and me sky pondlight blue clean, clouds cumulous/cirrus half unseen in a frame like dream geometry/physics bone-like brick wood-like flesh and glass that, with reflections, sings with ridges and walls, choral: concrete, spheres, steel and other distinctly human things Jim Culleny 8/18/19

Monday Poem

A Simple Ontology maybe flower petals are held to stems by thought and the wind’s a counter-thought that plucks and sets them elsewhere in the grass to grow in contemplative resolution beside the notion of a grub-pulling crow maybe the wind itself is a palpable bright idea, something about motion and the abhorrence of vacuums something about coming and…

Monday Poem

“Time is a static in the mind.”—Malachi Black, poet Timesea In the days when there were bona fide summers when months were loyal to the expected, when they stayed more or less within their lanes, December not copping the joys of July, for instance, when seasons honored tradition and did not insist on mukluks in…

Monday Poem

I look at my grandchildren and know that, being so young, they have little serious understaning of Covid and wonder what parts of it they’ll recall. Or will it linger…? How vague a memory will it be. What sort of meaning will it have, one like mine of world war? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Meaning of the…