Aftermath Goaded by hurricane the river raged through on a tear to the sea taking trucks and treesOil tanks bobbed under bridgeson swells of liquid gravitya wood-framed studio pirouetted from its piersoff downstream, a ship of art, rudderlessuntil it lodged against the steellifts of the dam gatesCellars filled with siltand whatever the river’d dredgedfrom back-yard…

Old Lovers Two old lovers–ships beachednear the sea of love in a cove off a bayno storm can reach,lean into each otherlonging not for past passion,not listening for a poet’s speechjust listing, leaning each into each by Jim Culleny2009

“Several males hold a hand or foot of the rival so the victim can be damaged at will.” — Poet C.K. Williams on chimpanzee behavior in his poem “Apes” Survivable Bliss seeing DNA’s serpentine double helixa thought occurs that Adam’s snakehissing from its tree was another kind of knowingnot thought of in those many-years BC…

Burnt Love My memory’s a divine brothel, he saidremembering a fog of lust What drives a man is evanescent;even that fierce flame. Jesus how time clips wings and burieseven conflagrations in dust In a pool of recall,which is always troubledby a new morning breeze,you may never seethe forest or the trees—but there is a gazebeneath…

Believing is Seeing in the undergrowth of an eastern wood a rabbitnot much bigger than a squirrel believesthere are eaters in the overgrowthand sees them everywhere it stops stock-still, aware as still as if its clock had stoppedno twitch or blinkmore stone than hare believing in suddenness it sees in every micro-acre of spacewhat its…

Which matters more, Philosophy or Ecology? How many thoughts can dance on the head of a radioactive pin, and for how long? –Roshi Bob Does Philosophy Matter It’s high summerwild green thrusts itselfagainst the boundsof clipped lawnsHuns of sumacamassed at a farm’s edgesurge toward logicalrows of beets andwell-reasonedranks of peppersignoring the protocolof invitation underthe wingspreadof…

daily mud when I’m down and most proneto fall into the mire of meaningI resort to the stars as ifthey might pin a ribbonon my chest: a rewardof understanding to come;the wars of fidelity won —as if I might winthe Medal of the Unknown’s Honor for piety instead of for keeping my head in the…

Band of Saints still in his gardenlighthe apologized to his sunflowers promising things wouldchangehe swore by all that’s right that he would end hiswarwith the earth that brings them forth on stalks thick asthievesupon which bright heads turn from northleavesopen as palms of supplicating hands in rows of six foot stems awalldense as the barnside…

Auto-auction if I should give account of all the days that shame meI’d be shamed indeed —especially by those daysthat shame me by my own account the noose that one gets in was once a collarits no mystery how the world goes rounda penny for my soul, why not a dollar? by Jim Culleny1/21/2010

Matryoshka BoxesAh, to think outside the box.But this box is too big —more thanlight years across (limitless in fact)so thinking out there has been a problemand (with the way it’s been)seems to be pretty much impossible A thought that big(a thought outside this box)would be divine To think outside this boxrequires a perspective well beyondthe…

“(Physicist) Stephen Hawking … showed that black holes were not completely black but could leak radiation …” Crumb of Light Black holes are not completely black.One physicist says they leak lightso even in deepest spacewhere nothing breatheswhere you couldn’t be more alonewhere stillness is not peace but icewhere distance between entitiesmakes the idea of neighborhood…

“There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.” —Herman Melville; Moby Dick“All politicians are loco.” —Roshi Bob (with a tip o' the hat to Tip O'Neill) Whatever Floats Your Pequod Call me Ishmael—no, on second thought don’t Call me Lazarus becauseI now have a second skin—the old one…

“Shu” is the single teaching of Confucius and “jen”it’s counterpart. Shu means reciprocity; jen is love,kindness and goodness. T’ien is heaven. –Confucius and the Teaching of Goodness Shu and Jen Goodness came like two heartsand sat beside me. My name isShu, said she In the window two birds flewThe window was open when,pointing, Shu said,…

A Sprawl of Cemeteries Blood for blood is in our bonesthe bass line of a perpetual requiem Justice says carpe diemto sooth the killed. As expectedthe living hoot and gloat, or wailasking Why did it have to be him? Why other arrangementshave not been madein the leaves of good booksso that blood and honor are…

Shell To have only what we need Space to the horizondrawing us out A songbird reminding usthere are more things in heaven and earth The hawk that stalks it—a taste of temporailty A rock on which to sit when sweat comes;a place to rest and consider the horizon Wild blueberries whose blueness tantalizes;whose juice becomes…

A particle accelerator in the US has shown compelling hints of a never-before-seen particle, researchers say. …………………………………………. –BBC 4/7/2011 More Splintered Than Common SenseHaving heard hints of a never-before-seen particlemy day becomes new;the blue day is fractured further What were small thoughts becomemore pint-sized then the nonsenseof politicians: smaller eventhan the bits of stained tile…

Now I Know What He Meant—I’ll have that done in no time, my father would say.…………………I’m in the midst of a moon(as the Lenape called them)dead center. It’s Thursdaydead center, too, of the weekI’m at the pinpoint of noon poisedprecisely at the day’s fulcrumjust thirty seconds into the minuteat point five Oh! of that second…

Scroll From woodpile to the housea scroll of arabesques in snow ends maybe twenty feetfrom an empty pile of palletsand the steel stake against whichthe first log had been set The trail ends just there at thatcupped crater which marks the spota squirrel beneath a starlit sky had stopped and sat Between the crater and…

A Simple Ontology It may be that a flower’s petalsare held to stems by thoughtand the wind is a counter-thoughtthat plucks petals from stems,shifts them across a fieldand sets them softly upon the grassto repose in contemplative resolutionnext to the notion of a grub-pulling crow For all I know the wind itself may bea palpable…

I have trouble with old picstheir sweet bitternesstheir cutting edgetheir tricks —a daughter’s mittenshung from cuffslaid out in kodachromea taunt of time. Enough. I’d rather mine old nuggetsupturn what’s scatteredin my skull —the gold stick with what my head will hold I do not take nostalgic risksThe photobox stays beneath the bedwith jewel cases of…