how grateful I am
for what I have lost
things
that every sad stranger

who knew bitter beauty
in the time of their lives
and the life of their time
refuse to console me

what comfort I get
from what I have lost
gravity
light weight of memory
breadcrumbs now blown
halts a bitter return
to the time of my life
and the life of my time
closer to empathy

a free range emotion
an organic heart
clarity
lies just out of my reach
far but not futile
the antidote to speed
toward the time of my life
and the life of my time
defuse melancholy

these moments of pleasure

rip through the pain
this triumph of measure
for all things gained
are mine for the taking
mine to be strained into

clear water basins
and lead me to ransom
again and again

you have your fine shoes
I have a toothless abandon
nothing fits on my feet
and your smile is not random
who knows the punch line
of jokes steeped in misery
you kick up your heels
while the fuckers make history
you have the paid views
I have an eye level precision
something rises to greet
your grin causing the sandstorm
you raise your full glass
and the actors take risks to see
that you have your fine shoes and
I have the rest of me

lifeboat

first lighted window in a new dark night
last willing testament of lifelong fright
near finished test of an age old dispute
waking up knowing what is seriously not cute
bending unwilling to the downward god
flossing the fang of an angry dog
removing a lentil from between the teeth
shunning the meat of animal grief
calming the neck hairs
rearranging the deck chairs of
an unlighted zendo for a vague wayfarer
licking the soul attempting repair
nursing vague insults on a desolate beach
kicking the sand from between the sheets
searching the room for new history
smacking the ghosts that get in my way
bent over words too big for me
rowing a small boat on a very big sea
healing torn cuticles
remaining unbeautiful

last willing testament of lifelong fright

first lighted window in a new dark night

february 2, 1926

my father’s birthday
I didn’t know for the longest time
I didn’t care or I preferred not to care
who was he
unloved as I was
unfound as I was
my father’s birthday
I sleepwalked for the longest time
when he died the world was dismantling
who he was
how he softened
amongst the most frightening
I didn’t know it for the longest time
caring and sharing had no sweet reprieve
who he was
who I loved
was mine for the  undertaking
I sleepwalked for the longest time
my father’s birthday
like butter now melted
still had the source
from which it is was drawn
I am clarified now in the house
I have crawled from
a rarified mouse in a kindly rat kingdom
I sleepwalk from birth
hate the markers of age
the memory of worth the scent of the rage
my father’s birthday
has a name  has a date
the second of February

am I too late?