Two Poems

What's The Big Idea? 

I was just about to say something.

It must been profound,

one of those enormous thoughts

that explains everything

yet is so simple it slips away

in the garble of discourse,

a chime at midnight

in the music of the spheres.

If it should make another orbit

I’ll be sure to jot it down on a napkin

or in the dust of my dashboard

but it’s more likely, 

a cosmic wrong number

I won’t even recognize 

since it belongs to some opaque world

when it strayed into this one

never intending to be caught

in so many words.

______________________

Out Of Doors

Words we say without thinking of the words.

Yes, we do go through a door or two

to get to the seeded soil, to the

spreading coral tree hanging over my patio,

a curtain of rhombic ovate leaves

(so says Google)

soon to shed its chlorophyll-laden load

to make room for the dazzle of red flowers 

just outside my sliding door.

 

But to really be out of doors,

bereft in that inner chamber,

would be a sorry state,

We need our doors ajar

in that essential, inscape,

where no one has trespassed.

And if the doors are locked

I will break them down

or walk through walls

in my mansion of infinite rooms

and doors, yes, doors to enter

and meet myself in of doors.

I shall go on in this grand meander

turning knobs to the unknown.

There could be red lanterns

and leaves like fish, like leaves,

or a version of myself

in the elsewhere I have never risked.