Ressurection

An incomplete five year print 
Good luck finding all the rest

Parts of me
Stuffed in folders tight
And overflowing
Forgotten on the bookshelf

More lingers in my mind
I know I wrote it somewhere
Napkins thrown away
Printed, stashed, hidden
Waiting for you to see them
And turn them in your hands

'Cause by then I might be
A Memory, remembrance
Just like the Christmas carols
I hear now 
You might be hearing too

So we're connected.
Once again, I'm in your ear
The carols fading
My voice now louder  

Gentle, harsh,
Profane, and loving.
Imagined, direct,
Hopped up or sober,
It is mine and no other.

So, daughters, wife... who ever else 
When you hear me in your ear 
Even if I'm gone,
Rest assured it's me, was me, 

When to when
And
Then to then

Gathering who I was;
Adding, cutting away
Ashamed, proud
Of what I am, was
When this was printed
On the page    

It was worth jotting it down

And now you hear me speak it
Feel me in your ear drum
Trickling down
The cochlear nerve

My voice immortal
Five years long
But only if you read it,
Find it.

Resurrect me from the grave
Parts missing, but here I am 
Stuffed in folders tight
And overflowing

Punch Card

I miss it
Tactile assurances
Of the voting power
Physical
Reassuring feeling
In action, in the hand
Pushing through
Making more than ones and zeros   

Life Long Duet

She sang
Long forgotten notes in thirds above
His aging tremelo
Dancing steps they hadn't done in years
Sweet hymns above
Her inability to know where she was
Transcended by
Remembered melodies from behind the pew
His wife

He sang
Now gray and dapper sitting by the bedside
Gazing
With her in the moment, both now and then lost
In the love dance
His tenor wavered by the years, but no less tender
Time invested
In their tender duet that now transcends the physical decline 
Her beau
   

The Show

He stood for her
And caught her eye
Felt the pain of loss
When she walked by

Saluted her
Her walking pout  

And winced when she left
Sipped his drink and thought it out

His hope had risen when

She walked into his space

An extra syllable that

Then left him in his place

Much too complete

Sipping his gin

To be there whole

When she walked in

So she walked out

Sipped drinks with someone who
More than he
Was present too 

Three Weeks

Parasympathomimetic
Receptor agonist
The nightshade alkaloid
Smooth muscle constrictor
Pressure raising
Life shortening
Is three weeks gone for good
Death, out of hand,
Must find a different way   

Better Introspection

sensitive nothings will get you a date
and tears will get you a ring
but a powerful lust
will knock off the rust
put some step in your zing 
and a twinkle in the eye of your mate

Age Spots

I saw them
Staring at me from my hand
From the back I thought I knew
Grandmother's have them
My mother has them
And now I do too

Deer in Headlights

She knew it
She knew it had happened
I told her lies to calm her down
Something, anything, other reasons
It wasn't gonna stick around
Her mind was letting go
She knew it

Seven

(Purple, shiny)

                                      smartness on display;

Not to read, but to see

                                       what other people say.

She says they magnify her beauty

                   
                      [S h e -
                                   s k i p s -
                                                    a n d -
                                   w a l k s -
                       t h e -
                                   c a t w a l k -
                                                          s t a g e .]

More than they magnify the page.

My bespeckled,
                          ...freckled
                                            ...cutie. 

    

Watch

The hands tick away of their own accord
As if to say, "No more, no more."
They follow round and just behind
That moment now from all else gone
Cutting it sharp, the past, a sword
What follows, rust and dust, and evermore.

Fleeting By

Steel skies
Wet stone 
Spicy throat
Speakers drone
Drums roll
Ink flow
Write now 
I should know
My thoughts
Up, down
Fleeting by
A small town