Selected Poems - 1998
By Tom Miller


poem about the fishes
 
oh the fishes
they are so swimming
and in schools are they
 
many colors and fins
swishing this way and fro
my oh my
 
how the fishes go
oh the fishes
they are swimming
 
with their big fish lips
and their lack of hips
we must love them
 
for swimming
and eating
and catching on a hook
 
all these things
are fishes good for
and what bad do they do?
 
naught
 
 
The hot summer
 
The hot summer
has beaten me again
 
even the songs of
blue jays can not
cool the fire burning
 
inside my heart
 
and the phone is
ringing
 
but there is so
much to do
 
such as sweeping away
the dust
 
and sitting by the window
looking out on the day
 
bright sun screaming down
on grass and leaves and
love bugs are on the hunt again
 
in their green world
as I
in my gray room
 
try to make sense of things
 
 
Bamboo
 
the silent singers
of the yard
 
move easily with the
rhythm of wind
 
going with the flow
as the Chinese say
 
bending with forces
of nature
 
yet staying their course
 
I admire them
through the window
transforming
 
spirit into
poem
 
to offer perhaps
some meaning
beyond their being
 
and I have seen flutes
made from bamboo
 
and have heard
masters
striving
 
for the perfection of
reaching nothing
being nowhere
 
yet
a bamboo song
needs only sunshine
 
and water
 
it does not need
me
 
it does not need
you
 
 
Guide for becoming 1 with the universe
 
first
and foremost
 
don’t worry
 
let your troubles fall away
like
 
cool blue water
 
and
take a long deep breath
 
in through your nose
hold for 4
 
release for 8
 
breathe as if smoking
or smoke if possible
 
if you have debts
forget them
 
it is not necessary for you
to pay anybody back
 
true friends
do not loan
they give
 
simply say
thank you
 
and live your life
 
do not attach yourself to
anything you own for
 
you own nothing
 
the universe owns everything
everything is on loan to you
 
the universe is not your friend
 
love the universe anyway
there is nothing more to do
 

 +
for a moment
she alights on a tree branch
and is gone too soon
 
+
the wind is quiet
the bamboo regard nothing
the wrens have vanished
 
 +
the raindrops speak spring
summer noon winter nightfall
clouds erase the stars
 
+
man’s fear of darkness
time explodes and mountains fall
nothing more in shadow


+
fireflies’ glowing dance
coy move slowly through water
flower petals close
 
 
Everything alive with joy
 
something
must be going
to explode today
 
things are too much in order
the heat is not doing me in
 
the paddle fan
is a beautiful woman with a palm frauen
and I am eating dried apricots
 
writing poetry
as the cat snoozes close-by
and there is still
 
another clove cigarette
and a new bottle of
Beaujolais
 
can it be
this poor spat-upon
tortured and broken-hearted poet
 
is fine?
 
of course
there is the thought
of danger
 
but I will embrace the good for now
and everything alive with joy
until the death
 
or the screaming
or whatever’s coming
down the road
 
with my name on it
 
 
1.
 
it is not
important
 
I know the name
of white flowers
 
dancing in the breeze
 
 
2.
 
pure
 
clean page
always
 
destroyed
 
with
the poem
 

 
The next feel-good
for Ron Reeb
 
how do you do it
I asked
 
escape from all the
bullshit?
 
He sipped his
decaf coffee
and said
 
look for the next
feel-good
 
for example
 
when I leave
I’ll go to my truck
 
turn on the
air conditioning
 
and that will
feel good
 
then
I’ll turn on the stereo
 
listen to the
music
 
and that will
feel good
 
later
I’ll go home
 
maybe I’ll
sit down
 
and that will
feel good
 
then
he got up and
left me a fifty
 
thanks
I said
 
and what can I
do for you?
 
nothing
he said
 
just keep on being
tom miller
 
and for the first time
in weeks
 
I thought
yes!
 
There is hope
after all
 
I smoked a
shepherd’s hotel
 
and that
felt good
 
I wrote
this poem
 
and that
felt good
 
I read some
Ferlinghetti
 
and that
felt good
 
so much joy
the money hardly mattered
 
there would be
the summer breeze
 
a walk down
red brick roads
 
a child in
a yellow daisy dress
 
sushi
and hot tea
 
one dark cloud
in the blue sky
 
or maybe even
a few minutes
 
thinking
 
listening
 
smiling
 


 +
the world is busy
look up her dress
when her back is turned
 
+
I am a pig
I am a worm
I am a diamond
 
all these things
in the mud
am I
 
+
false friends
you have all
abandoned me
when the money
was gone
 
for this
I am grateful
 
+
trees have leaves
people have needs
 
I
need you all
to
leave me alone
 
+
death comes
even as you
fix your hair
so someone will
stick their dick in you
 
+
people are brick
and mortar
 
buildings flesh
 
and still the rain comes
 
+
a dead sparrow
sings
in the broken hearts
of children

+
if you take
the sunrise for granted
 
the sunrise
will take you for granted
 
+
love friends
who love you
despite your faults
 
love friends
who will sacrifice for you
 
sacrifice for them
 
love friends
who do not have to say
 
I love you
 
then shoot them
 

The poet always has a place to stay
 
the poet always has a place to stay
 
always has a drink
always has a meal
always has a poem
 
the poet always has a poem
 
always has a lover
always has a love end
always has another drink
 
the poet always has another drink
 
always has an idea
always has something to say
always has nothing to say
 
the poet always has nothing to say
 
always has another drink
always has another poem
always has another place to stay
 
the poet always has
 
a drink
a meal
a love
no love
another drink
an idea
something to say
nothing to say
 
the poet is invisible
the poet is forever
the poet is the bottom
the poet is the soul
the poet is a lion
the poet is lying
the poet is truth
the poet is an eagle
the poet is the devil
the poet is god
 
the poet always has a place to stay