There is Nothing to it

Bob, , 
There is nothing to it, just the celestial waddle, the fathom
And its resonations, and me in the field, coming out
Just at the rail-lines, to the elm leaves dry
In the wind, the insects happenstance to the point of 
Symphony, there is nothing to it, a sandwich and coffee,
A thrift-store shirt, a universe untethered of linguistics,
A yellow flower tethered to the sun, the sound of gravel
And stones under my shoes, and everywhere 
Eternity and the void and immanence,  
Time parceled by our perceptual apparatus,
The squeezing out of space in its expansion,
The rivals of here and there, the fealty
Of wonderous slam-dance-like verse stealing its vistas
From the sinewy miles of summer afternoons, to traverse
In mass and gravity and beauty and lost and spotting
The horizon its distant due, and now the train punching
Its own due along the lines and me standing
Maybe too close that I feel its force pushing the air
Apart, till it is gone and the quite field like an intermezzo,
And maybe I’ll go to the movies tonight, afterwards, sit out 
By the Niagara River and think of the Falls and smoke
A joint and just listen to the cricket song.

17 thoughts on “There is Nothing to it”

  2. A wonderful sense of the infinite, the humdrum and of humility, Bob. John has picked out the same line that really spoke to me too “the universe untethered of linguistics”. Fabulous. But I also love that you ground those amazing concepts with ideas like thrift shop shirts and smoking a joint by a river.

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    1. Thanks! I live about 20 minute walk to the start of the Niagara River and from there it takes about 24 hours for the water to make its way to Niagara Falls. It’s a good place to sit and think. And sometimes partake in a smoke.

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  3. I feel like I’m on a park bench in your mind listening to your inner broadcast of all you see, such amazing and unpredictable imagery and once again, you cover the range, from insects to linguistics to t-shirts. I agree with johnmalone – this is inspiring, almost a reminder to shut off one’s mind and see and feel all that is here, there, and everywhere.

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    1. Thanks! And again I love how you read this. A park bench in the mind. Which is awesome. And the inner broadcast. Which reminds me of how much you love baseball. I guess I’m just trying to connect all the details. Big and small. I’m really glad you like it.

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      1. And you do just that Bob, “connect all the details” which hammers home the reality that staring at a starry sky or painting a wall can both arouse a sense of awe though I find it much harder to feel this as I get older which I guess should and hopefully will inspire me to wake up earlier or stay awake longer, sleep less and get into it all.

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  7. And maybe I’ll read some of Bob’s poems tonight. Afterwards, sit out by the West River, think of the Atlantic a step away and smoke a joint and just listen to the clouds of geese descending and telling the world and one another… everything there is.

    What a wonderful time this evening reading your work Bob. It’s been awhile. You often balance a certain delicacy of detail with the thundering universe and all it holds. With that in mind, I particularly love standing maybe to close to the train and then the quiet and movement that surrounds this moment – incredibly powerful. I could feel it. Take care!

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    1. What a wonderful comment. Like a poem itself. Sitting by the West River, thinking of the Atlantic (it’s been much too long since I’ve been to the ocean), and watching the geese, and the joint… all of it just seems perfect! Thank you so much for reading my poems. It means a lot to me.

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