The Man Who Thinks Too Much
and he considered what she meant.
He's heard it a lot, all his life,
from various people. Unlike them
he doesn't watch the news or read
anything but "The Far Side" in the papers.
Instead he wonders what Joyce was trying
to say when she let him sleep
all night with the living room lights,
the television blazing, and a couch spring
stabbing his back. Why does St. Paul
have slow moving, morning fog sometimes?
Minneapolis doesn't. What's the river's part
in all this? Why do some middle-aged women
die their hair white, wear rhinestone glasses,
and play piano in those bars with red
naugahyde booths? Karen eats lunch
with him only to project bedroom scenes
in pale blue eyes, while telling him
about how much she loves her husband. He thinks
about this, he has his ideas. Of course,
all this pondering drives people nuts. Late nights
while gingerly transplanting cacti at the kitchen sink
he muses about his dead sister and what her
twenty-four year life could possibly have meant.
A black window above the sink reflects the room
and eventually these thoughts lead to the contemplation
of a Higher Power; not the question of existence,
but the degree of eccentricity It must possess.
......Dan Avery
Zen Awakening
the dog sleeps in sunlight
this winter's afternoon
stretching, readjusting
in the light's warmth
today is a dog day
revel in sunlight's patterns
slowly changing the rug
listen to wind, the sparrow's song
trees live, whisper
learn their language
a fly lands on a plate of crumbs
stare at it for a long time
with an empty mind
stretch, readjust
seek peace found
in dog sleeping sunshine
......Dan Avery