A small poem
Can be a large window
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
TAKING CARE FOR POEMS
I take care with my poems
So when I am not with you
They will reach out for me
And touch you
So when I am not with you
They will reach out for me
And touch you
FINE BY ME
I am a little relieved
When I read an obit age
Greater than mine
And saddened if they were younger
Alarmed if the same age
For then I swear
I always sniff a small smell of death
I can no longer achieve dying young
Which is fine by me
When I read an obit age
Greater than mine
And saddened if they were younger
Alarmed if the same age
For then I swear
I always sniff a small smell of death
I can no longer achieve dying young
Which is fine by me
PARALLEL WORLD
In a parallel world
There are funerals every day
I do not notice
But when you died, I wondered
How can they carry on
Can’t they too feel the loss of you?
There are funerals every day
I do not notice
But when you died, I wondered
How can they carry on
Can’t they too feel the loss of you?
SILENT MOURNERS
Silent mourners
Crowd around your body
Watching to see if your chest will rise
But you are dead
The earth knows it
And waits for you
I want to move you into the sun
And let it awaken you just once more
But a dark cloud has covered me
Tomorrow I will get up
But you won’t
Crowd around your body
Watching to see if your chest will rise
But you are dead
The earth knows it
And waits for you
I want to move you into the sun
And let it awaken you just once more
But a dark cloud has covered me
Tomorrow I will get up
But you won’t
DEATH OF PARENTS
Upon the death of the first parent
You become half an orphan
With the second, a full orphan
And the life chain is broken
Beyond repair
You are unprotected
You are next
You become half an orphan
With the second, a full orphan
And the life chain is broken
Beyond repair
You are unprotected
You are next
PEOPLE OF PROXIMITY
We are a species of nearness
Loving and revenging
Mostly those we know
If you want our affection
And not our enmity
Here’s my advice
Stay close
Or stay away
[I am still disconcerted knowing murdered people are usually killed by people they know. Police always start with lovers and family members. We are a most dangerous species]
Loving and revenging
Mostly those we know
If you want our affection
And not our enmity
Here’s my advice
Stay close
Or stay away
[I am still disconcerted knowing murdered people are usually killed by people they know. Police always start with lovers and family members. We are a most dangerous species]
FOR A WHILE LONGER
My parents’ gametes bonded
Their zygote burst forth on Easter morn
Now, 24,000 days later
My cells are still renewing
Synapses snapping
Learning and forgetting
Yet I persist –
For a while longer
Their zygote burst forth on Easter morn
Now, 24,000 days later
My cells are still renewing
Synapses snapping
Learning and forgetting
Yet I persist –
For a while longer
JUST BARELY
Wife on a trip
Kids gone for years now
I posed my death mask today
I slumped my head forward
Pretending I died
Then imagined being discovered
Sitting upright, not yet putrid
Maybe they’d think I was only napping
Waiting to be useful again
I recognize my growing irrelevance
And it’s okay
But just barely
[Living into my late 60s, adjusting to retirement, there are more things to prepare than just drawing up a will]
Kids gone for years now
I posed my death mask today
I slumped my head forward
Pretending I died
Then imagined being discovered
Sitting upright, not yet putrid
Maybe they’d think I was only napping
Waiting to be useful again
I recognize my growing irrelevance
And it’s okay
But just barely
[Living into my late 60s, adjusting to retirement, there are more things to prepare than just drawing up a will]
BRIDGE OF WORDS
First entry in the dictionary – “A”
Could not be briefer
With 26 definitions
I’ve used most everyone
The last word is “ZZYAYVA”
A leaf hopping weevil
I doubt I will ever use it
Two words bookending the world of words
Enfolding both simplicity and sophistication
Holding all our truths and lies
Could not be briefer
With 26 definitions
I’ve used most everyone
The last word is “ZZYAYVA”
A leaf hopping weevil
I doubt I will ever use it
Two words bookending the world of words
Enfolding both simplicity and sophistication
Holding all our truths and lies
ENERGY OF YOUTH
Where is the energy of my youth
I spy this constant leaking
Of unappreciated things
From the crevices of my crucible
I look for repair
For the former things
They are now missed
Oh so missed
I spy this constant leaking
Of unappreciated things
From the crevices of my crucible
I look for repair
For the former things
They are now missed
Oh so missed
THE ALPHABET
A through Z make all words
That populate love letters and hate mail
They lullaby our babies
And march us to war
They reveal nature’s secrets
And hide the politician’s real agenda
More powerful than bombs
More deadly than bullets
Serving both good and evil
Truth and lies
There always available
Be careful how you use them
That populate love letters and hate mail
They lullaby our babies
And march us to war
They reveal nature’s secrets
And hide the politician’s real agenda
More powerful than bombs
More deadly than bullets
Serving both good and evil
Truth and lies
There always available
Be careful how you use them
MORNING WALK
Rich in money, houses and trees
A man conspired with his chemistry
To retire for an eternity
From his single chance at living
How many stories
Of love and loss
Have I unknowingly passed
On my morning walks through the neighborhood
[A clinically depressed neighbor shot himself as I was walking down his street one morning. I heard the shot but only later the story]
A man conspired with his chemistry
To retire for an eternity
From his single chance at living
How many stories
Of love and loss
Have I unknowingly passed
On my morning walks through the neighborhood
[A clinically depressed neighbor shot himself as I was walking down his street one morning. I heard the shot but only later the story]
AUTISTIC CHILD
Since my autistic son was born
I’ve learned to rope off the soft parts of my heart
And I work to construct meaning from his ill fate
To carve some victories of his disability
My fear is he will have no one
Left out, shunned
His friends only those
Who also wait for what never comes
But I cannot abandon Joey
To a world he does not understand
So I look for gifted caretakers
I can only hope the privileged ones will be kind
[There has been a 1600% increase in autistic births the past decade, 80% of them males. My son Joey is one of them. Both the cause and cure are unknown. We do, however, know the heartache and frustration. There is an 85% divorce rate of the parents of autistic children]
I’ve learned to rope off the soft parts of my heart
And I work to construct meaning from his ill fate
To carve some victories of his disability
My fear is he will have no one
Left out, shunned
His friends only those
Who also wait for what never comes
But I cannot abandon Joey
To a world he does not understand
So I look for gifted caretakers
I can only hope the privileged ones will be kind
[There has been a 1600% increase in autistic births the past decade, 80% of them males. My son Joey is one of them. Both the cause and cure are unknown. We do, however, know the heartache and frustration. There is an 85% divorce rate of the parents of autistic children]
DEATH HOUR MINUS 43 MINUTES
D – 43 minutes
He woke to promise and sunlight
Reflected off yellow walls
It was a clear, cool morning
D – 31 minutes
Ever a careful eater
He breakfasted on Ezekiel bread and Brazilian coffee
In his favorite running clothes
D - 19 minutes
After a smile and a kiss
He was off on his final journey
Through familiar streets with family trees
D – 7 minutes
He thought he must’ve eaten too quickly
The growing discomfort
Escorted him on a shorter route home
D – minus one minute 43 seconds
Feet cemented by an imploding chest
He tried to rush home
Something was massively wrong
D – minus 31 seconds
He tossed his wallet
To the stopped driver
Please, call my wife
Zero hour
His heart soon flatlines
Bee-beep, bee-beep, …beep
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
D + 7 days
At his funeral
The family wept
Friends remembered his cheerfulness
He woke to promise and sunlight
Reflected off yellow walls
It was a clear, cool morning
D – 31 minutes
Ever a careful eater
He breakfasted on Ezekiel bread and Brazilian coffee
In his favorite running clothes
D - 19 minutes
After a smile and a kiss
He was off on his final journey
Through familiar streets with family trees
D – 7 minutes
He thought he must’ve eaten too quickly
The growing discomfort
Escorted him on a shorter route home
D – minus one minute 43 seconds
Feet cemented by an imploding chest
He tried to rush home
Something was massively wrong
D – minus 31 seconds
He tossed his wallet
To the stopped driver
Please, call my wife
Zero hour
His heart soon flatlines
Bee-beep, bee-beep, …beep
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
D + 7 days
At his funeral
The family wept
Friends remembered his cheerfulness
SIGNATURE MEMORY
I thought mothers lived forever
I was wrong, wrong, wrong
Your dishes and dresses were only distractions
But your signature
On the no longer needed driver’s license
I held next to my heart
[After my mother’s death, came the task of going through the detritus she left behind. The talisman power of her signature caught me off guard]
I was wrong, wrong, wrong
Your dishes and dresses were only distractions
But your signature
On the no longer needed driver’s license
I held next to my heart
[After my mother’s death, came the task of going through the detritus she left behind. The talisman power of her signature caught me off guard]
LATE NIGHT CALL
A late night phone ring
Burns the fog of first hour sleep
Dad, hospital, stroke, unconscious
Next few hours will tell life or death
Hours later, no sleep, another call
“Dead” is all I hear
I’m all snot and swollen eyes
No more possibility for reconciliation
Burns the fog of first hour sleep
Dad, hospital, stroke, unconscious
Next few hours will tell life or death
Hours later, no sleep, another call
“Dead” is all I hear
I’m all snot and swollen eyes
No more possibility for reconciliation
STIFF HEART
When you died an absence appeared
And we covered the silence with weeping
That night I descended to dreaming
Seeking a reprieve
Pausing at the junction of life and death
I cried out – Goodbye
Those were hours of a stiff heart
Then came the letting go
And we covered the silence with weeping
That night I descended to dreaming
Seeking a reprieve
Pausing at the junction of life and death
I cried out – Goodbye
Those were hours of a stiff heart
Then came the letting go
THE DREAM
I never got the chance to tell you goodbye
Instead our last conversation was The Dream
I hope we dreamed this dream together
There was a long hallway with many doors
I opened the one with your name on it
Sitting up in the coffin you said, “Hi Larryna”
You told me you were sorry
You hadn’t spoken with me those past years
You were a flawed father, an imperfect man
But you wanted me to know you loved me
A short message with a long tail
And one I’d always wanted to hear
Too soon it was time to close your coffin forever
Obediently you lay back down, never to return
They had to pull me from the building
As a huge bulldozer groaned to life
Its giant blade destroyed the building
Like you, all was gone,
So, we got to say our goodbye
To settle our accounts
And let the memory of you fly.
[About 3 months after my Dad died, I had The Dream. To this day it is clearer and more real than any memory I have of the times we shared together. Maybe this is only a gift I gave myself, but it could be the fulfillment of what we both wanted]
Instead our last conversation was The Dream
I hope we dreamed this dream together
There was a long hallway with many doors
I opened the one with your name on it
Sitting up in the coffin you said, “Hi Larryna”
You told me you were sorry
You hadn’t spoken with me those past years
You were a flawed father, an imperfect man
But you wanted me to know you loved me
A short message with a long tail
And one I’d always wanted to hear
Too soon it was time to close your coffin forever
Obediently you lay back down, never to return
They had to pull me from the building
As a huge bulldozer groaned to life
Its giant blade destroyed the building
Like you, all was gone,
So, we got to say our goodbye
To settle our accounts
And let the memory of you fly.
[About 3 months after my Dad died, I had The Dream. To this day it is clearer and more real than any memory I have of the times we shared together. Maybe this is only a gift I gave myself, but it could be the fulfillment of what we both wanted]
CLOSET OF BONES
I look into your coffin
The silk lined closet of your bones
You look different
Your hand cold as winter
I watch for your breath
I hope for a gentle rise of your chest
For a reversal of this stinging fate
For a chance to touch you alive again
But you are dead
The earth knows it
And waits for you
Where can I put all the things you will now miss?
[Have you, too, ever experienced the optical illusion of thinking, for just a moment, that you saw the loved breathe again? It is all so unnatural, the absolutely motionless body, the cold touch. How can it be?]
The silk lined closet of your bones
You look different
Your hand cold as winter
I watch for your breath
I hope for a gentle rise of your chest
For a reversal of this stinging fate
For a chance to touch you alive again
But you are dead
The earth knows it
And waits for you
Where can I put all the things you will now miss?
[Have you, too, ever experienced the optical illusion of thinking, for just a moment, that you saw the loved breathe again? It is all so unnatural, the absolutely motionless body, the cold touch. How can it be?]
I AM INCONSISTENT
The government killed a murderer today
I do not regret it
I know capital punishment is wrong
Costs too much
Takes too long
I am inconsistent
I’d rather the victim’s family
Tore out the murderer’s hard heart
And wash it with their soft tears
Than have the State kill him in my name
I am inconsistent
I do not regret it
I know capital punishment is wrong
Costs too much
Takes too long
I am inconsistent
I’d rather the victim’s family
Tore out the murderer’s hard heart
And wash it with their soft tears
Than have the State kill him in my name
I am inconsistent
ODE TO BASHO
Old pond
Young frog
Small splash
Large silence
(Even briefer)
Pond
Frog
Plop
…
[Basho is perhaps the most famous haiku poet. These are a couple of my variations of his most famous poem. I head toward the minimalist side of the haiku protocol]
Young frog
Small splash
Large silence
(Even briefer)
Pond
Frog
Plop
…
[Basho is perhaps the most famous haiku poet. These are a couple of my variations of his most famous poem. I head toward the minimalist side of the haiku protocol]
ON THE OCCASION OF JOEY'S BAPTISM
[Joey’s Catholic grandmother wanted him to be baptized. I wrote the following for the congregation that witnessed the ceremony]
Our son was born 25 years ago with pervasive developmental disorder, a spectrum that includes autism and cognitive disability. And while he is over six feet tall, he reasons and communicates like a child – and always will. He knows Santa fills the stockings on Christmas morning and, when he saw the Flat Iron Mountains above Boulder shrouded in clouds, he was alarmed they were melting.
In preparation for this tradition, last night I asked Joey, “Who is God?”…”Don’t know”, he answered. Then I asked, “Do you know where He lives?”…again, “Don’t know”. Joey never wastes a word. I could not repress a smile. Joey’s view of the world often amuses me, but later something occurred to me after the humor passed - my own answers to these questions are the same as his –“I don’t know”.
Joey joins your church community today without the baggage of deep intellectual reasoning. He can teach you some things about service and friendship that are difficult for more educated persons to grasp. He loves the candles and the bells and he loves to give the peace sign to everyone.
Joey does not lie. Joey would not hurt a fly. Indeed, I once witnessed him stopping in his tracks when he thought he might step on bug. He is not discontent. He lives a simple life and loves to be of service. He is happiest when he is helping. Though I haven’t been able to teach him to talk a lot, he has taught me to listen more.
His tastes are simple. He likes pretty girls, macaroni and cheese and cokes. He is trusting and transparent. He feels others pain and, like the lilies of the field, he takes no thought for the morrow.
He may comprehend things you and I cannot understand. He has, after all, lived his life in a state of innocence. Perhaps in matters of faith and trust, it is we, not he, who are handicapped.
I am sure Joey is already accepted into God’s kingdom and I know he is pleased to be accepted into this church community.
Our son was born 25 years ago with pervasive developmental disorder, a spectrum that includes autism and cognitive disability. And while he is over six feet tall, he reasons and communicates like a child – and always will. He knows Santa fills the stockings on Christmas morning and, when he saw the Flat Iron Mountains above Boulder shrouded in clouds, he was alarmed they were melting.
In preparation for this tradition, last night I asked Joey, “Who is God?”…”Don’t know”, he answered. Then I asked, “Do you know where He lives?”…again, “Don’t know”. Joey never wastes a word. I could not repress a smile. Joey’s view of the world often amuses me, but later something occurred to me after the humor passed - my own answers to these questions are the same as his –“I don’t know”.
Joey joins your church community today without the baggage of deep intellectual reasoning. He can teach you some things about service and friendship that are difficult for more educated persons to grasp. He loves the candles and the bells and he loves to give the peace sign to everyone.
Joey does not lie. Joey would not hurt a fly. Indeed, I once witnessed him stopping in his tracks when he thought he might step on bug. He is not discontent. He lives a simple life and loves to be of service. He is happiest when he is helping. Though I haven’t been able to teach him to talk a lot, he has taught me to listen more.
His tastes are simple. He likes pretty girls, macaroni and cheese and cokes. He is trusting and transparent. He feels others pain and, like the lilies of the field, he takes no thought for the morrow.
He may comprehend things you and I cannot understand. He has, after all, lived his life in a state of innocence. Perhaps in matters of faith and trust, it is we, not he, who are handicapped.
I am sure Joey is already accepted into God’s kingdom and I know he is pleased to be accepted into this church community.
HOLDING PERIOD
There is a holding room in limbo
For the first of a couple to die
The partner left behind
Must then search alone in purgatory
While drifting in a haze of lost love
When the partner finally falls into eternity
Then together they promenade the pearly gates
And those still in line
Note their position
And know they are next
[This poem is a speculation about the fate of widowed people. It provides a new definition for the obscure concepts of limbo and purgatory, assigning them to devoted married couples.]
For the first of a couple to die
The partner left behind
Must then search alone in purgatory
While drifting in a haze of lost love
When the partner finally falls into eternity
Then together they promenade the pearly gates
And those still in line
Note their position
And know they are next
[This poem is a speculation about the fate of widowed people. It provides a new definition for the obscure concepts of limbo and purgatory, assigning them to devoted married couples.]
JENNY
Not dead a year yet
Already almost gone forever
Jenny, your name,
Never to be spoken again.
I won’t have the chance
To tell you stories
And show you pictures
But I will hold those memories for you
As long as I can
Among them will be
Holding your one hour old hand
And my promise to watch over you
For the father you never knew
Lost by construction bravado
Carelessly leaving you alone
And less than half protected
[Jenny’s dad was killed on the job before she was born. I stood in for him at her birth. After her mother, my sister, died, we raised her as our own daughter. She died at 40, childless, barely making her way through life.]
Already almost gone forever
Jenny, your name,
Never to be spoken again.
I won’t have the chance
To tell you stories
And show you pictures
But I will hold those memories for you
As long as I can
Among them will be
Holding your one hour old hand
And my promise to watch over you
For the father you never knew
Lost by construction bravado
Carelessly leaving you alone
And less than half protected
[Jenny’s dad was killed on the job before she was born. I stood in for him at her birth. After her mother, my sister, died, we raised her as our own daughter. She died at 40, childless, barely making her way through life.]
POETRY TIME
I hear pattering rain
On my roof
Demanding attention
Silent house
Window full of gray
Time for poet’s work
...
Now I leave my poetry room
And enter the larger room
Of my other life
[These poems began on a rainy afternoon. I am completing the task and sending them to you on a hot sunny day – as I return to the larger room of my other activities]
On my roof
Demanding attention
Silent house
Window full of gray
Time for poet’s work
...
Now I leave my poetry room
And enter the larger room
Of my other life
[These poems began on a rainy afternoon. I am completing the task and sending them to you on a hot sunny day – as I return to the larger room of my other activities]
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