Monday, July 1, 2013

12 Praises


Paul reminds me
to see the miraculous
to go each morning
looking for beauty


Thanks white daisies
for growing along the road
even in the things
people throw away


In the bathroom
at the bowling alley
a drawing of breasts
and someone has added
Do Something With Your Wife

Parking Lot Bouquet

Sunday morning
we ride bikes
around the big
square of tar
five raindrops
spitbugs and bees
we are busy
gathering flowers
enough to fill
a jar


After the lawnmower
dies next door
you could walk
on that silence
like a deep lush field
grown in the air


A new day
street painted
by the early rain
the smell of sea
and wet leaves


Writing poems
about the Buddha
and zen in some
little Ohio town
errands to do
the car parked
on hot tar


June rain
a robin
flies in front
flowers bent
bloom wet

Mike’s Wallpaper

Another masterpiece
500 blue flowers
hand painted
varnished yellow
to create the illusion
there’s a palace
in your rented room


Now every time
I look at the stars
I’m searching for them


In the garden
pulling out weeds
be careful moving
in their metropolis

Telephone Poles

The whole town
all our houses
connected by strings
knitted and pulled
from a ball of wire

On June 21, before Paul Piper left for China 
he asked me to write a poem of praise
every day.  These are the first twelve.
I usually write them first thing in 
the morning on the way to work. 

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