Mourning what wasn't
Sitting on my couch asking
What was and what is

Money is nice, but

it doesn't write the poems;
they don't write themselves.

As long as there's play

for me to find in G-d's Word,
my soul will be heard.

I am awake and 

that's the interesting part,
I think, in a dream.

I love when I find
poems of mine that I like
but forgot I wrote.

Students are humans
not a different class
and it behooves us
to keep this in mind
when we're tempted
to put them in a stable
and teach them as if we
were Old McDonald and
they can only make the sounds
we assign them.

All these EXCUSE MEs
pushing me out of their way
on the Uptown A

----------------------------------------

I watch you watch me
not realizing that you
are watching me watch

A haiku that's called

What Is My First Rodeo?
would read as follows:

Exciting enough
to become a metaphor
for everything new

Time takes its own time;

like time, I also take time,
but it is not mine.

January 17, 2020

Today, just last year
a poet was lost and found:
Mary Oliver

"You gotta look sharp
gottaa have no illusions"
So said Joe Jackson
---------------------------------------
Reb Shlomo Carlebach
was the only one ever
to say I looked "sharp"

HAND WRITTEN OVER TWO NIGHTS

Processing my life
I am laying on my bed
Wanting to detox

That story about

the Xs on the foreheads

sits there on my screen

And the irony

is hot, I find it striking

how fitting it is

Our phones are the

wheat that makes us all crazy

this haiku, my X

Marking my forehead

my phone in the other room

I'm writing by hand

Write me a letter

send it through a blue mailbox

so we'll remember...

II

...I'm thinking again

about Rebbe Nachman's wheat

and the forehead marks

I think we've fallen

in a short number of years

hard, away from G-d

I write on paper

hiding from my phone, in bed

calling out to G-d

G-d bless us to read

to write each other and speak

heart to heart, off line

Oh my G-d, bless me

to work with you and be free

and learn how to see Written Nov 23 2021

 

I want my back to
get off of my back so I
can get back on track

And when they won it
some back stories fell away.
Better that they don't.

Is a half hour 

nap really a nap or more
just a call for sleep?

Wanting to figure
all of my issues out with
pencil and paper

Holy, holy day
creation unto itself

and yet separate

Traveling through fog

while riding over the bridge:
Watch for metaphors

Even in whispers

there are things we don't want said,
And yet, they are said

 Haiku (With Apologies to Journey)

Don't stop the breathing

It goes on and on and on

Till you can't hold on

from 2012