Posts for June 3, 2024 (page 15)

My stickiest memories of Dad
are of him drunk or sleeping one off,
reclined, feet up on the Lay-Z-Boy,
snoring to peel the wallpaper,
Mom knitting Christmas stockings in the sun room,
and me turning the volume up
so I could hear surrogate Cronkite
give us the black and white —

sometimes a great nation,
sometimes all you can do is shake your head
and wonder —

so that now, all these years later,
when my daughter asks
what her grandfather was like,
I fall back on my training
not to sugarcoat or cherry pick,
but factually relay:

people will disappoint,
you can love them anyway.

Memories 
Silhouettes of the past 
Endlessly shifting.  Endlessly changing. 

Here a wish.  There a  

Dream 
Opening across the sky 
Soaring on borrowed wings 
Closing in on itself hiding   

Memories 
Patterns of what was 
Transformed in the blink of an eye 
Becoming the outline of a

Life

gospels of prosperity-
married to a whore
twenty tweny four.

I know better
there are no questions to be asked  nor
answers to be sought  what if   I often posit

to wake on this Monday  say
or even Sunday
listen to this song of songs that never ceases  though
always changes  cadence  timing  volume  rhythm  performer
audience 
what if I  one human  went about calling up the sun  singing down the moon  holding my wings out to the warmth   brightening into the day 
no listening for the world    no asking is it right   worth it   fair  fare
fair

a clearer attuning  a brighter resonance  a stronger vibrano 
truth
as the birds begin  as I lift my throat to the day

Blue/Orange striped tee shirt.
Cutoff jean shorts. Sears.
Hand swimming out the window, humming.
Hamstrings sweat stuck
to the vinyl bench seat
of a ’67 Ford Falcon with no AC.  

Summer-
The warmed steering wheel of another time’s
mediocre American apocalypse.

My grandson
wants to be Hulk Maui
with his Poly hair a riptide
of waves, twisting and surfing,
an undertow of the Universe
below his shoulder blade.

His sturdy legs pound across the floor,
a path of lava behind him, still steaming
in his wake, doesn’t know his own strength.

Hide everything that looks like a stick.
Hide the dog in the other room.
Put everything dangerous on the top shelf,
until he sleeps, on the floor, under the table,
In his mama’s arms, hands and feet still,
round cheeks soft, and hair like a waterfall.

there are gulls in the courtyard
tourists from the tyrrhenian sea
echoing and honking
honking on holiday
like the americans
who crowd these roman streets
and honk at each other
believing
like the gulls
they’re the only ones here

No Word For Time

Do as you please, but today we mustn’t look for time,
or for the birds to join cages we may have made,
or for what I want to forget top the parapet at sunset—
Are you tired of being a woman yet?

I’m tired of being of man.
Shaving, clipping away at a wiry, peppery sand.
Suspected—the older I become, if I flash a girl a grin.
The worst thing—when people rob me of my usefulness.

With no words for time, except the lack of molars in my mouth,
with no words to pass the hours, except I want you to want me again,
is it a crime to be so tired I barely know how to make a move?

The lie of afternoon winds blew fattened grasses into a creek
below my feet, and I’ve spent the last two years trying to score
with you.  No doubt a lifetime wondering what the hell for.

As soon as I pull the splinter from my palm the little wound calms down

knowing it finally has my attention

it doesn’t have to shout anymore

I interrogate the dark- sharp sliver of wood pinned to a tweezer with my skin cells and dirt

looking exactly like the broken tip of lead from a mechanical pencil

I let it fall to the kitchen table like a tear

What was a tiny enemy

now small

and frail

pitiable

I decide not to punish it anymore.

It didn’t want to hurt me

after all

but we come into contact with the world as it is

The time for keeping has come to an end.

It rolls off the table

glides to the floor

disappeared

All that’s left on my palm is a small red mark

that will likely be gone in the morning.

I decide not to punish you anymore

either.

I should have tended to my own wounds

before

damning

yours