Questions of identity on Venice Boulevard

With Borges amid my Trader Joe's bag   I enter the local bank
"there's another David R. Israel" the teller tells the one called "I"
that I am myself instead of that guy   what being have I to thank?
who jots these thoughts on the 33 bus till Beethovan Street comes by?

ditty: "tacit witness"

The merciless is never truly merciless
the ruthless proves a higher form of ruth
if misery highlights unrealized happiness
is falseness tacit witness to the truth?

ditty: "less talkative"

If poets woo the unspeakable to their desks
heads nodding what do they chat about I wonder?
such a tête à tête's unspeakably brief I guess
terse lightning being less talkative than thunder


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[The verse's first line (less the "if") is borrowed from Donald Hall.]

sort-of ballade: "even in death the scenes are stunning"

Sleeping I dreamed my ears were burning
waking I found my nose was running
boating I note the seas are churning
even in death the scenes are stunning

laughing aface ambush discerning
scowling afoot amid the cunning
deep in its sky an earth is turning
even in death the scenes are stunning

looking for love embrace pure yearning
seeking for work avoid wry punning
sylvan decor's a'flood with ferning
even in death the scenes are stunning

broken in life the heart is learning
righting by death the writer's funning
all this just to adjust the kerning?
even in death the scenes are stunning

beat the tattoo! repeat (ears burning)
sleeping I dreamed my tears were running
humor's not some dry dream for spurning
even in death the scenes are stunning

If meditation depends on language

If meditation depends on language
what does language depend on?
what language you use depends on
what speech has reached your ears
until you have made it your own
and it seems to belong with you
as much as the thought you've known

If meditation depends on language
what does language depend on?
language depends on society
that surrounds the soul in living
until death enforces a change
and again the burst of migration
submersed in mind's own station

If meditation depends on language
what does language depend on?
it depends on the soul's vibration
translated into chattering thought
like breathing always it's spinning
like a top without end or beginning
by what mystery was it wraught?