I am here, and youth grows distant.

Your call was a letter lost in the mail,
a curiosity.  I held the phone gently
as if I might lose the signal.  Your voice
had that curious quality of disconnect
made possible by cell phones, like a call
from a great distance, another galaxy.

I imagined we were our younger selves,
long haired and self-assured.

We talked about your dad, motorcycles,
and New York City.  I forgot to tell you
I saw your picture of the Joe Strummer mural
so listened to "Police On My Back."
I felt punk rock urgency, rebellion, youth,
like a phone call from the distant past.

East Falls Black River

There are places
where nature is so loud,
so overwhelmingly immersive
that it becomes possible
to forget my television,
to ignore this bullshit,
and to live something
like a spiritual moment.

I spend far too little
time in those places.

Two American Haiku

          Traditional

White cat chases grasshopper.
I collect 4 o'clock seeds, breathe.  Air 
conditioners make ridiculous silence.



          Political

Adam calls Anne an elitist
because she's got the proof
he's an uninformed idiot.