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A Thought for Today

Rage destroys everything in its path and there is no rebuilding.



The first winter of "Flight Plan" featured several winter poems from "Moment to Moment." Could you please reprint them? Thanks.

Angie Nicholas, Manchester, England


Cold. The window open, curtains spread as far apart as they will go. Outside, the sky dominates everything. Because I haven't closed the window yet, my bed is now so full of moon there's almost no room left in it for me. What a bed this is. What a wide, soft Dutch bed this old hotel has given me this time to lie in by myself.

In a city like Amsterdam if you sleep alone, you do so by choice. But after all the nights, good, bad, indifferent, not different I'd rather stay here empty inside / outside than bed down just to bed down. I've been more alone when someone wrong was here than I've been when no one came. Still... Never mind, if I don't get up to close the window now there'll be no sleep at all.

I will not chase the shadows any more. I'll draw the curtains tight and sleep. I'll work. I'll read. I'll go to sleep. 

                               - from "Moment to Moment," 1973,1975

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Rod McKuen Concerts & Appearances

notable birthdays Philip Anglim o Jennifer Aniston o Max Baer, Sr. o Brandy o Sheryl Crow o Thomas Alva Edison o King Farouk I of Egypt o Rudolph Firkusny o Bernard Fontenelle o Roy Fuller o Eva Gabor o Vicki Hoepf o Conrad Janis o Matt Lawrence o Tina Louise o Joseph Mankiewicz o Sergio Mendes o Larry Merchant o Kasimar Milevich o Leslie Nielsen o Bobby "Boris" Pickett o Mary Quant o Burt Reynolds o Sidney Sheldon o Kim Stanley o Gene Vincent o Josh White
Rod's random thoughts Love finds beauty in the plainest smile.

There are some wars a man should never be afraid to lose.. One is the loss that comes from loving, whether in the lightning or the dark..

Seek out truth until all avenues have been exhausted.

from "Moment To Moment" 

Sunday Night

I'm living
no I'm staying,
down the street.
We can walk.

Monday Afternoon

Blinking like an owl in morning
I woke up wanting you,
for all the Denver days ahead
             and ever after,
for all the Sausalitos past
and Boston nights that ended
before they had beginnings.

Thick throated still
and not yet
           wide awake enough
I finally came alive
to find you studying me.

I wish that I
had told you then
I wasn't what you watched,
and given time to rearrange
my face and frame for you,
I'd be closer to the man
who picked you up
         the night before.
Nearer to whatever
you must have wanted
or expected.

But seeing you
at my breath's edge
filled my head
with such a wonder
that I could only
pray in silence
that though your eyes
                      were open
you stared at me from sleep.
A sleep I wouldn't dare

Tuesday Afternoon

A cat
came off the higher roof
and down below my window,
balancing on so thin a rail
that even pigeons had not dared
that tightrope walk before.

A red and yellow cat
                 of some age
and some experience
sat the afternoon out
down below my window - waiting
as he must have known
     I waited.
A cat for company
until the sunset started
then he leisurely climbed back.

Tuesday Night

I don't know why we lie here
on the floor collecting dust
when both of us are well aware
that any bed's more comfortable
than carpet over hardwood.
What the evening needs
           is some suggestion.
One of us will have to stop
being or pretending to be shy.

Till boldness catches hold,
of you or me or we,
use my elbow as a pillow
let my body cover you
         as lightly as it can
with this bumpy body blanket.

Now we're eye to eye. Hello.


I move in close,
          like a fighter
waiting for a chance.
An opening.

I cannot wait much longer.
Give in quietly or go.

Are you that wild
late blooming plant ?
If so you might not wait
                        to tell me
for there's little time
within this life
        and the next one's
                 nearly spent.

Wednesday Night

I don't have to touch you
to be touching you
nor feel your face
to feel your face.
Yet sometimes touching you
I feel you not at all.

There seems to be
so much of you at times
enough to fill
and spill across the room.
Other times
I stretch in your direction
and draw back to me
great armfuls of nothing,
great handfuls of air.

                         - from "Moment To Moment" 1973, 1974, 1975

1973, 1974, 1976, 1998, 2001 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith
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