Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.

I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
This rain.

-Jack Gilbert


Slippery Fish

Slippery fish,
who knew you were happy in that bowl?
I spent so many years scoping out surface
for you, foaming at the mouth with eager
You were buried under the sand.

Slippery fish,
who knew you were wounded in the water?
I felt so many years of frenetic family
scoping our surface, eager with mouth spent
Digging out the soul in the sand.

Slippery fish,
who knew you were dying in the water?
I spent so many years finding foam for us to eager
surface for us to scope,
anxiety buried in the bowl
You are floating over the sand.

Journey: a series of limericks

Your face was aligned to my brain
I heard your voice falter and feign
We made this decision
To give up the vision
and end this journey’s sustain.

I feel you turn over in sleep
I wrinkle the bedding we keep
You stutter and snore
I look at the door,
my thoughts continue to steep.

We unrolled the truth of our end
We haven’t had courage to send
the final goodbye
its answering reply
or the lie that we will remain friends.

I lost a friend

The inevitability of death is profound and powerful in this piece.

Name Not Important 86: Moments and thoughts

I lost a friend,
and I lost a crutch.

We are kept alive by crutches.

We are born with easily penetrated organs,
a fragile mind,

Nature’s destiny for us is
to eventually stop
and crumble.

But we don’t want to stop,
we don’t want to be vulnerable,
we don’t want to be weak.
We are profoundly impacted when
we see a dead body
because it reminds us
of our inevitable end.

We use the crutch of armor,
and substances,
to attempt to protect ourselves from
nature’s ultimate finale.

We look for fulfillment everywhere except ourselves.
Self-love is basically Atlantis.

I lost a friend,
and I lost a crutch.

The feeling is a void;
a cold and hollow place.

A feeling that I prided myself
in being able to fill up
with only with what I have within myself.

But a hypothesis is not a reality.

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The Breath of Memory

For Leah Scully, October 31, 1930 – October 27, 2014

Silent breaths

knowing one will be your last

I am standing instead in a room of light
the sounds of your laughter
your fingers holding my hand

You are the bright eyes of the world
Your room larger than words could hold
Your heart beats for us all.

I am standing instead in a sound of silence
the breaths coming in
and out
each time
one more breath
and then one less
as the space between is counted.

Your life is flooding me with memories
and I am once again the little girl
skipping through the snow to find your glove

Sitting in your car with a bag of books
freshly borrowed from the library

We are sharing stories
each one whether written or spoken
inciting laughter
invoking life

and you will live forever
through our words of love.