Reune?

Whenever I go back to Harvard I
Am suddenly again merely 18
Surrounded by a distant, high, serene
Institution that can never die
Which I, so conscious of what passes by
Quail before. Then it becomes routine
I see the Yard once more a painted green,
Am twenty-two and telling it goodbye
All in an instant. Harvard is and was
The things I did there and who I became,
What changed, and changes, and what never does
All intertwined and somehow all the same,
So when I come, I somehow know I never
Left at all, and doubt that I could ever.

Dawn

Dawn breaks
As do days
What makes
That haze
Seem like
It should
Be a strike?
What would
We get
If we
Just let
Dawn be?
No break
Just wake.

Complexity

I'm not complex, at least in one small way:
I want what others want. A house, a home,
A loved companion by my side each day,
A worthwhile job: these are desires. In Rome
Each man should act like Romans do, and I
Am on this earth, and human, and act so.
I would prefer, like most, not now to die
And to continue to expand and grow
Though I, like them, would like it if my weight
And waist would not. So I am not complex:
I like to eat the sweet things on my plate,
I like the sun's bright warmth, and I like sex.
But if you ask for higher things than those
No one is simple. That's just how it goes.

Re: Mural

Evolving will not give us birdlike wings
Not in our present state, at any rate,
Unless (and this is true for many things)
Sexual selection should equate
A slightly more bewingéd structure to
A better chance of reproducing you.
Even that push would have to be so great
To overwhelm the fact that fairly clings
To all my thought of this: bones must dilate
To be like birds, and that, to my mind, dings
The chance of seeing humankind that flew
On their own power. No, it will not do.
We will not feather, or begin to fly
Without machines. We will not touch the sky.

Pro

It might be easier to let the day
Go by unnoticed, and zone out the world.
But that is boring, and I cannot stay
Unthinking with my mental sails all furled
Indefinitely. No, I must go out
And seize some little portion of an hour
Planting my flag upon it with a stout
Definite gesture of my woken power.
I shall set forth and be the better man
Walking the earth awake and full of zest.
I will be all the good things that I can
And more - and I will better my own best.
All this tomorrow. Now I'll lounge and sleep
Until my herbal tea has done its steep.

Couching

I could pretend I do not like to be
At home, and sit unsociable and still
Down on the couch, in front of the TV,
But what would be the point? Sunday still will
Find me here stationary and amused,
In massive comfort as I entertain
Myself with nothing. Do not be confused:
I still like other things, and won't refrain
From doing them to make a point. It's just
I also like to veg out on the couch
Ignoring all the things I should or must,
Stuffed in the cushions like a joey's pouch.
I'll be here waiting - you can join, you know -
Taking the day to take my living slow.

Differences

The trip without you is so not ideal;
Not bad at all, but not what it could be
And sadly (or at least sad for now-me)
I know what I am missing, and I feel
Imperfect. I can still see the appeal
Of where we're going, but I also see
What could be so much better easily
If you were going too. Sure, I can deal
But wouldn't it be lovely if you were?
We'd do the same, but be companions too
Which I (and I believe you) would prefer
Since we together make the things we do
Whatever they may be a pleasure deep
I would give much and many things to keep.

Circumstance

Among the people with whom I belong
I sense a different sense of who I am
Not that my normal life is somehow wrong
But something else is right. I do not slam
My brakes on here (not that I do at home)
As much as I in other publics would;
I do not skim the top of my heartfoam
But drain it all, and let it all be good.
Do not believe that I am not myself
When I'm alone; simply believe that I
Put certain thoughts and feelings on the shelf
To only now be seized from where they lie
And felt and thought in public. Now and here
Is good for me, and I feel strong and clear.

Thankful

Marvel at all the spacious world affords
And then be thankful. Think of sea and sky
People and places, peaces and accords,
Senses and soul, and while you wonder why
Be grateful to whatever gives you grace
And knowledge. Thank the world itself, the way
It turns and how it's angled into space
To catch the sunlight from each dawning day.
Thank yourself for being you, and each
Person you meet for being who they are.
Thank the lake or ocean on the beach
For lapping calmly over each sand spar
And thank your friends and loved ones, just for being;
Thankful's such a lovely way of seeing.

More

I am thankful for so many things
That any list of merely fourteen lines
Can't  be complete - indeed, the risk it brings
Of some offense to judgment that maligns
My thankfulness itself is so immense
I do not dare, except to say I'm glad
For almost everything (and in a sense
For everything I have or ever had
Because it's all a system set together);
Glad for emotion, being, senses, mind,
World, people, creatures, places, weather,
All the abstractions that the heart can find
And all concrete things too - and more, and more
Than I can say (as I have said before).