Outlook

If only perspective
Were at all effective,

A change of point of view
Might truly transform you.

But no. How many folks
Now have seen the Earth float

An unsupported bead
In space, how many seen

Clouds from above the clouds?
Everyone talks about

How some epiphany
Humbled them—has any

Modesty since appeared
In human behavior?

This Year, Make a Resolution about Something Bigger than Yourself

Hmm, she murmured. I had planned
To resolve I would become
Morally superior

To everyone this year, but
I suppose I could resolve
To make the world morally

My equals, even-steven.
No, wait, better—I resolve
To improve humanity

This year until everyone
In the world is morally
Superior to me. Yes!

That way, the world, at long last,
Will get to be good, while I
Alone will get to be bad.

The Thing’s Side of the Story

The unsaid’s not a secret.
The unsaid isn’t unsaid.
It’s not like there’s a saying,
An actual, physical
Saying that hasn’t been said.
Notice how you like to say,
What’s been left unsaid? Notice

Left? As if, for all you’ve said,
There are more supplies unused,
In storage, back-ups, unsaid.
Most of what is is unsaid.
Could be sayable, could
Be not. What you call unsaid
Won’t say. It isn’t saying.

No Crisis Tonight

You make your daughter two pieces of toast,
Since you’re dying and she’s tired. No, really,

This is true. You want to do what you can
Still do for her, in between asking her

To do this or that for you. There’ll be more
Of the latter, soon. Now, you can make toast,

So you do. And while you do, you wonder
Which will go first, any ability

To make toast properly or the power
To pay for the toast. You butter the toast,

Cut the slices, arrange them artfully
And, pleased with yourself, carry them to her.