Forms of Love

She hugged me yesterday, and I could feel
Affection in the pressure and the length;
A smile on her face, a “welcome back,”
A bit of something that I’ve known awhile —

Between the lines, where friendship makes its home,
Is something fragile that, somehow, survives:
Between such lines as needs be, and must be,
Is what our worlds are made of, if we live
In anything like honor or respect —
In anything like loyalty at all —

She hugged me yesterday, and I remarked
On her new haircut, which I liked a lot;
Asked if the holidays were kind to them,
In forms of love appropriate for us

A True Story

He had a crush,
He did his best,
He painted paintings,
Wrote her verse,
But he was much
Too weird for her,
Who might have liked him
Otherwise.

The years went by
Until he saw
Her once again
Just yesterday,
He didn’t recognize
Her now,
That part of life
Had gone away

But in a place
She always is,
A painting he gave her
She’ll see,
And so she still
Remembers him.
Now isn’t that
An irony?


(My wife told me this story yesterday. – Owen)

Pretty Much Impossible

It’s pretty much impossible not to love her.


Ok, sure, she comes behind me and opens blinds I’ve been closing. “There’s still light,” she says.

“That’s starlight.”

“Well. Even so.”

“Dear, that’s — kinda crazy.”

“I am a creature of the light.”

“Ok, then, just… close ‘em before you come to bed.”

“How ‘bout I close YOU before I come to bed.”

“I’m not… I don’t even know what that means…”


“Hey, I’m wearing your glasses. Do I look like you?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see.”

“You know, I read on Thought Catalog that men stop really seeing their wives after six years.”

“Only when their wives steal their glasses. And I didn’t know you read Thought Catalog.”

“Well, I am female. Here, get a picture of me, I look exactly like you…”


“Where in Greece exactly is Pelloponesia?”

“Southwestern, I believe.”

“So, from what I gather, Sparta murdered their infants, and Athens molested their male children. But at least those boys could be philosophical about it.”


What are you watching?”

“It’s a Japanese remake of ‘Gone With The Wind’, I believe.”

“A Japanese remake … wait, what?”

“I mean, I think. I don’t actually have the subtitles on, so I’m not sure.”

“How long have you been watching?”

“Oh, about two hours. There’s a girl who bought a dress. And she keeps dreaming about her grandfather, who used to bring her flowers when she was little. And something about a chess board, and some koi.”

“How is that in any way like ‘Gone With The Wind’?”

“Because I slept through half of that, too.”


It’s pretty much impossible not to love her.

So I do.

Diagnosis…

Diagnosis: negative;
Relief, though, slow to come —
For it’s hard feeling anything
When everything is numb

Her outlook should be positive,
But joy is nowhere near,
For though she’s free of illness, she’s
Confined still in

Her fear

… to be home.

I’m ready to be home.
The tree-lined streets I know
So very well
Will lead me to my door,
Where I can enter without
Knock or bell

I’m ready to be home:
It’s where my love will be
Some hours hence —
And I can hear her voice
And see her face, and end this long
Suspense

For I’ve been where I needed to,
I’ve seen and done my part,
But surely I’ve been missing her,
The best part of my heart —

Sometimes we have to wander,
Have to roam —
But Lord, it will be good
To just be

Home

Journal 2018-04-03

5:17am EDST

I kissed you goodbye;
You smiled although
You didn’t wake —
That will have to be enough.

7:51am EDST

Nothing is more shared
Than the annoyances of airports,
And few places do people feel
More personally aggrieved.

9:14am EDST

Patience is a virtue — so they say.
Here’s a chance for merit, at this gate,
To prove my worthiness, and calmly wait.
For after all, it still is early day,
And within a few hours, miles away,
I’ll see my mom, from whom many a trait
I gained. And so: anxiety abate!
I needs keep ire and peevishness at bay.

For our misdeeds, our parents may feel blame,
And for our petty rancors, feel remorse;
For we are of one tree, both root and stem.
Heredity – environment – the same:
For each, our parents were the likely source,
And so see what is bad in us as them.

9:44am EDST

And so the takeoff soon awaits,
And I will either think of death,
Or else forget, and read a book,
And barely notice anything.

Our deepest thoughts lie side-by-side
With those mundane and commonplace;
The way we read Aeschylus,
Then play Nintendo Switch.

9:56am EDST

There was a young lady from Schmeager
Who only liked music by Reger,
She said, “People joke,
If I was more like folk,
Then I might hum along with Pete Seeger.”

10:30am EDST

Within a world of colored-water
She was wont to swim,
And artistry was effortless,
Like tumbling in a gym.

In tumbling and in swimming, she
Spent forty days and nights,
Then turned that into gold when she
Just up and sold the rights.

She up and sold the rights to all
Her visions and her prayers,
Then used the money heedlessly
On vodka and repairs.

To fix what all the vodka broke,
She had to get a lawyer;
She wrecked more than a howitzer,
Six tanks, and a destroyer.

Destroyers are not pretty things:
They tend to lead to slaughter,
But that’s what comes from swimming long,
In all that colored
Water

1:28pm EDST

if you see
no worth in your heart,
then who will?

that may seem to be
a knot that
can not be untied,

but know this:
you are worthy of
the best things —

truth, love, joy, peace, and
acceptance,
for who you’ve been,
and are

1:44pm EDST

tiny eyes
need shielding from glare
on bright days

2:00pm EDST

I’m worried what I’ll find;
I’m worried how she’ll be.
Her body’s shutting down,
And so’s her memory.

We live so far away;
Our lives are wholly other —
But still, I hope, and pray
For mercy for
My mother

11:45am MST (2:45pm EDST)

my son just called
he is going back into
either rehab or the hospital

life is always too much
and hardly ever enough

4:03pm MST (7:03 EDST)

Her Parkinson’s is worse, but somehow
She seems better. Ready to get out and go
Is more like I’d always known my mom to be;
Last time, she never wanted to leave
The facility. Soon, I’ll drive back over there
From this hotel, and take her and her guy out to eat…

… which seems pretty sweet.

7:16pm MST (10:16pm EDST)

Much I do not understand
The world is fuller than I know
So much I cannot understand
It’s all too much, and even so,
I do not even understand
The shadows unfamiliar —

And I don’t really understand

This room is creepy dark and

 
Unfamiliar

It Snowed Last Night

It snowed last night
The world is white
I guess I’ll just sit here
And write

A dozen poems,
Maybe more;
I think that’s what
Wordpress is for

A southern state,
Where weather’s great,
My office still will open
(Late)

So I will rhyme
Until its time
To go and earn
My daily dime

It snowed last night
It’s quite a sight —
But Yankees smirk
At snow
So slight

Morning Thoughts

I need to buy some bread today,
And probably some tea.
I guess I’ll get it on the way,
It’s easier for me.
For I am likely to forget
In leaving it for later:
Because I’m more an amateur
Than a pro
Crastinator