I miss
the sweetness of his notes.
The innocence
The ridiculous extravagance
Dinosaurs
and
More Dinosaurs
on my shopping lists.
"Beautiful"
on the backside of
a bill we did not
even open.
In such a deliberate,
careful script.
Even his notes to me
should look fine.
I found one today,
in a book -
I had forgotten it was there
I savor
(even now)
the soft lines,
the most honest kind of affection
anyone could ever give me.
I am so sorry.
I did not know how
to appreciate the perfect,
complete gift
of such plain expressions
of love.
Think often, whenever you can, let no one stop you, and let no one know what you're doing. These are dangerous times, good lad, and this is a dangerous world.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
manic-depressive
It would be better
I think
to be buried alive
than fall to your death.
That exact moment when your stomach drops
and you give in to the weightless
feeling of flight -
Your last breath
joining the wind rushing past your ears
must be
so
pleasant.
At least the damp earth is honest
when it enters your lungs.
I think
to be buried alive
than fall to your death.
That exact moment when your stomach drops
and you give in to the weightless
feeling of flight -
Your last breath
joining the wind rushing past your ears
must be
so
pleasant.
At least the damp earth is honest
when it enters your lungs.
Nana
My grandmother is Forgetting.
She is old.
Holes in her brain are becoming
holes in her memories.
I am crying.
I remember walking
across the street to see her
every morning
before school.
Sometimes there were pancakes.
I don't want her to die.
We played card games at camp
and I begged her
for quarters
to play at the arcade
and slept next to her
And I remember the sounds
her big belly made.
She deserves all the beauty she never got.
I remember when she forgot
her fudge recipe.
And when she asked me
if that beautiful boy in there
was my son.
I think I will die
if she ever forgets
me.
She is old.
Holes in her brain are becoming
holes in her memories.
I am crying.
I remember walking
across the street to see her
every morning
before school.
Sometimes there were pancakes.
I don't want her to die.
We played card games at camp
and I begged her
for quarters
to play at the arcade
and slept next to her
And I remember the sounds
her big belly made.
She deserves all the beauty she never got.
I remember when she forgot
her fudge recipe.
And when she asked me
if that beautiful boy in there
was my son.
I think I will die
if she ever forgets
me.
A Gloss on Fred Astaire
Despite what is clearly
a preference for
escaping scrutiny -
I cannot help but
pay too much attention
to the curls in your hair
the light in your beard
and the cut of your jaw
which are so
lovely to look at.
I have also found
(after much study, which I beg you to forgive)
a cleverness which
when paired with a silly premise
and such grounded stillness
makes you
delightful to know.
And,
if you can pardon the intrusion
into very personal territory
I will request further investigation
into the scent of you.
Tied ever close to the sense of taste,
evoking memories of such
soft lips -
heaven to kiss.
Please accept this poem as an apology
for any unwelcome intrusions.
I have a problem with
Impulse Control
and it is so difficult
to resist
a combination like this.
a preference for
escaping scrutiny -
I cannot help but
pay too much attention
to the curls in your hair
the light in your beard
and the cut of your jaw
which are so
lovely to look at.
I have also found
(after much study, which I beg you to forgive)
a cleverness which
when paired with a silly premise
and such grounded stillness
makes you
delightful to know.
And,
if you can pardon the intrusion
into very personal territory
I will request further investigation
into the scent of you.
Tied ever close to the sense of taste,
evoking memories of such
soft lips -
heaven to kiss.
Please accept this poem as an apology
for any unwelcome intrusions.
I have a problem with
Impulse Control
and it is so difficult
to resist
a combination like this.
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