River Club

Dinner tonight at the River Club —

Eight at a table, sunset, wine,

Remembering some friends of mine

And yours – How big are your kids now?

Hard to believe. Was it yesterday?

I don’t know when, or rather, how

They grew so big. Where’s she at today?

Amazing. I’ve never traveled there –

Yes, that’s a skill you take anywhere.

You’re fourth of seven? I’m third of three.

I can’t imagine. It’s beats me

How anyone gets a degree in that.

Yes, we should certainly come back —

Validate parking – here’s my stub –

Dinner tonight at

The River Club

past / gone

[This could have been called, “Old Poem, Written Age 25,” but I chose to retain its original title, even while heavily reworking the content. – Owen]


 

a few weeks, all it was, and yet

you linger in this air –

your presence was reality

and more than everywhere

 

the past is gone, they say, and so

i should just let you go –

but you were my first happiness

and it’s still all i know

 

and now, life’s fallen by the way,

and so much seems a waste —

and words we say seem fake, next to

the world we touch

and taste

Summer Passion – III

the pulsing music hypnotized
the sailors of the evening skies
just passed the place where seagull cries
had warned them of their sorrows

but tangles came in dips and waves
the residue of romps and raves
the deepened rivulets of caves
and who-cares-for-tomorrows

the dress that falls, the hands that find
the sound that calls, the lights that blind
the nights of counting beyond math
and love that’s hard to tell from wrath

the summer of all summers known
the music died, the seagulls flown
the knowledge that they cannot own
what love, at best,
just borrows

Summer Passion – II

While walking down the beach, we found a key
To maybe-treasures, long ago forgot;
The wind was forward, maybe slightly lee,
Beneath a sail so easy to keep taut,
That summer of our passion and regret
That we have not exactly left, just yet.

We locked the door, and fell together, two
Of maybe-lovers, long ago and soon —
The sea was roaring, we were pushing through
And past the morning, all the way to noon,
To where we lay and wondered at it all,
The pride before a rise, and then a fall,

The light that shone, and warmed, and lastly burned —
The key to understanding what we learned

Summer Passion – I

We dreamed the summer into life,
And breathed the same life into love;
The tropics were our latitude,
A latitude we took all of –

We sampled of the dreamer’s herb,
And saw the dark with widened eyes:
A living summer, made of light,
And psychedelic
Butterflies