The Untitled

rocks and I
are found often
in unexpected places
a shoulder of a road
a shelf in a book case
we don't get along with others
we don't expect much
we aren't courageous
rocks and I
are often referred to
as things like
he is hard to get to know
or it has no name
he is common
it has no shape
you've heard of
rocks come from mountains
you can find them at their bases
I come from the sun
I came here once
and refused to return



 Spotting Robert Creeley on Allen Street

I find it hard
to imagine him
in a grandstand
sitting with everyone
looking down
squinting to see
that agon explicitly 
his mind is on
other things
certainly the grass
the mound count in
but circumspectly 
he knows love
and speaks of it
not as fans do uncomfortably 
he brings to it scrutiny
in every word gives it
due and you rackingly 
feel as alone as
you are meant to