Not Dominoes nor Dice

Bill wrote this poem “it must have been in the 60’s.” I recorded him reading it in 2008, then added the images to create this video.

Four Poems — distributed 3-20-1991

Bill distributed these four poems on a flier in March of 1991. His introductions are in above each.

Dear friends,

Poetry has been good for me lately. This first day of spring seems right for collecting a few and sharing them with some of you. I owe some of you written copies of one or another of these. Others of you I simply share these with as time and circumstances (including our April trip East) permit.

Peace/love, Bill

(Asilomar, by the sea, 12-9-90, with friend Jon).

All engulfing song of surf,
all encompassing, sequined sky -
my ears and eyes applaud
as my soul
heaves
sigh
after sigh
after
deep and wide
sigh.

(On my mail route, 2-4-91, after a lovely, clumsy moment shared with a beautiful human being, one of my postal patrons)

How long do we have to say anything?
How long do we have to wonder
 if these words or those words
 are right or wrong?
How long do we have to discover
 there may be no right,
 no wrong?
How long do we have to embrace
 silence?
How long do we have to discover
 there may be all the time we need?
How long do we have
to wonder
how long we have?

(On Mt. Tamalpais, March 4th, 1991, early in the morning in a wild storm, by myself, near a cabin called “Peace in the Woods” where I was sharing a weekend with friends Jon, Bill and Frank)

March forth,
dance on
and sign your song.

March forth
dance on,
the journey's long.

March forth,
dance on
and as you do,

remember, friend,
somewhere,
I'm marching,
dancing,
singing, too.

(First Unitarian Church of Berkeley, 2-24-91, during and after the 8:30 am Meditation Service, as later published and illustrated in the News Bulletin of the church)

Two chairs
by the "In Memoriam" wall,
in dialogue,
in relationship.

No persons present,
but what presence
of spirit
of souls
of silence

as the phoenix
takes wing
between the songs
of the windblown branches and leaves
of the deeply rooted
many trees
of life.

A have a rosy view

I have a rosy view
out to Talmapais and the Golden Gate
where the mountain
meets the sea.
The Sleeping Princess
may yet swing free
out through the GAte
to an ocean of emotion
with a peaceful bent.
Perhaps all of time
has been well spent.

A single rose
a single word
a single silent space

A single woman
 single man
A coupled life embrace.

Two persons commune
on the Rose Garden bench,
letting their fingers
do the talking.

All around
silent roses
sign to us
of life's joyful beauty
embracing
its thorny perplexities
and paradoxes.

(By Bill, the postal poet, in celebration of the Berkeley Rose Garden’s first half-century. 1987)