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
