Category: Death & Afterlife
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Lament #17
I read cicadas will be plentiful this summer Returning from long quarantine underground I miss the high descant keening above tree frog choruses I miss life begging come sit with me before we die I miss the closeness of being alive 6-19-20
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rapture
following a night of rain lichen blossom on fallen trees sides of oak glow blue-green mycelium reawaken throw spores ecstatically in the air mushrooms rise up in the woods moss puts on green robes hold chloroplasts in the air dance their resurrection in my yard I breathe in holiness sanctified, redeemed awaiting my decay 6-11-20
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for Marie
Marie lived in the big house she was born in. She had a baby grand in the parlor and cookies in the kitchen. She was my mother’s friend. She was the pianist for the Masonic hall. She told me I had a good voice. There was a picture on her mantle, of a young woman…
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for Dan
I don’t know why but tonight I wondered what became of your ashes after the state paid for your cremation Is there a field made holy where the indigent recline with last years leaves? I am waiting for Siri to call out from my GPS “Your destination is on the right” so I can speak…
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and I think it’s going to rain today
(stream of consciousness poem) On my sixty-eighth birthday a tropical depression spins offshore and the forecast is for rain all week and I worry about whole beaches being torn from the shore and the song ‘And I Think It’s Going To Rain Today’ is caught in the riptide in my head and I curse Randy…
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no anesthesia
Spiraled black-speckled flypaper waves in the wind from the porch For family summer picnic fun on the farm flies trapped in glue, struggle till they die Chickens, a pig and a cow are slaughtered deviled eggs, tomatoes and green beans prepared Rocky mountain oysters sit fried in a bowl on the table Harvested from ball…
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hand-made chocolate shakes
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by
For the surgical nurse who I worked with when I was drafted I remember sneaking out the service door in the alley behind the hospital Jogging to an ice cream shop for hand-made chocolate shakes while you stood guard at the door We would sit in the nurses’ lounge – you would tell me your…
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Waking From Dreaming with a Stream of Consciousness Prose Poem Stuck in My Head that I Scribbled Down in the Dark on a Notebook I Keep on a Table by the Bed for Those Nights When I Wake with a Stream of Consciousness Prose Poem Stuck in My Head
Yesterday, I ate the last garlic stuffed olive in the jar and wondered if they make some mixed drink with garlic stuffed olives, but it sounds gross, but I don’t drink alcohol and maybe it would make a great martini and I think back to summers, as a kid and my sisters and I would…
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Pandemic Meditation on the Second Anniversary of My Mother’s Passing
1) This morning On the second anniversary Of my mother’s passing I listened to birds in trees While contemplating how hard It must be to not be allowed to sit With love ones who are dying Breathing out this damned virus In vapors of last breaths 2) I remember how my sister texted That mom…
