tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47116964110690289892024-03-04T23:53:37.157-08:00.PoetasterAn innocent flirtation with coherence from poet/philosopher and tinhorn intellectual J.R. McCarthyJay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.comBlogger332125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-52949829345591564622014-08-27T19:42:00.002-07:002014-08-27T19:42:02.210-07:00Post-PrehensileMaria Montessori was correct<br />
about all things but whimsy. It is true:<br />
your baby’s mind can grasp and hold the rules<br />
of science, music, and the mother tongues<br />
of many tribes. Not so the minds that age<br />
along with mine: we marvel at the scope<br />
and depth of our own ignorance. It seems<br />
that my old brain, made drunk by too much time<br />
in Once Upon a Time Land, can’t be fixed<br />
with lobster claws, or sticky little hairs -<br />
I should have started sooner. One may ask<br />
himself, before another asks: What’s wrong<br />
with you and your contemporaries, Joe?<br />
They don’t remember what they learned in school.<br />
They’re taking valium on Christmas Day.<br />
They do not have the gumption to complete<br />
a marriage, or a novel…. or a poem.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-23543119639576417872014-07-12T17:30:00.002-07:002014-07-12T17:30:26.119-07:00BLESSED BE YOUR SWIMMING POOL <div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
I am delighted for you, and the
man <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
I once was would have envied your
good luck: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
A swimming pool in your backyard! In ground! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
With water deep enough that diving
in <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Won’t cause you to dash out
your brains and guts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Those spurting apertures that I
enjoyed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Invading with my fingers as a
boy: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
They work with vents recycling
water, no?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
I say, take that, Old Heraclitus! I <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
know one man who can step into
the same <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
water over again – all summer
long! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
But Heraclitus was talking
about rivers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
and we’re talking about your
pool. We <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
are talking about clear water,
dosed <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
with enough chlorine to kill
algae, bacteria, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
and anyone who drinks a good
deal of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
The philosopher’s river, that
cannot <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
keep itself alive without
taking on the scum<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
of the earth, is where they
have to do their <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
swimming who cannot get
themselves <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
a pool, or get in good with the pool people,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
For a dip, or a little Marco
Polo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
And don’t even get me started
about <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
the beach crowd, so peppered
and assaulted <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
with sand that they rinse off
in the ocean, that<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
bastion of death, or her step sisters,
the sounds, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
bays and tidal straits, or any fish-filtered
petri<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
dish left behind by the
shifting of Great <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Pangaea, or the occlusion of
Mythic Atlantis. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Don’t get me started on folks
who just managed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
to crawl out of the ooze, then
lounge on the <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
beach - daring the tide to give
them back <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
their gills. Sun-bathe? On this
dis-ozoned Orb? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Forgive me for ranting when
today is <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
really about you and your
swimming pool! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Forgive me for doing anything
to <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
vex you as June glides into
July, as <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
August yawns before us like a
pizza oven, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
and here’s me in my corduroy
trousers! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be you! And blessed be
your pool!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your purifying
filter!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your shiny metal ladders!
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your bobbing
thermometer!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your timid in the
shallows!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your deep-end cannon-ballers!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your cabana temple!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Blessed be your solemn patio! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Praise to your pool with our
barbecue incense! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Praise to your pool with our
tinkling ice cubes!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Let me swim in your pool, fair,
fair weather friend!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .25in;">
Speak but pool, and I’ll be new
baptized!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-68670877650797471322014-06-30T07:36:00.002-07:002014-06-30T07:36:26.709-07:00Fragile Little TimeWe will leave this place of selfish tears,<br />
and search for your monument wherever<br />
it chooses to bloom. Unnecessary<br />
to erect a proper, lifeless headstone when<br />
a splendid, mighty inkling of forever<br />
is already swaying, already beloved,<br />
in some delightful place not far from here:<br />
some fine, new world where appreciation<br />
is unleavened by memory, where you are<br />
always as strong, healthy and beautiful<br />
as on the fairest day of the fragile<br />
little time when we were blessed to love you.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-67406205124412376152014-06-28T08:45:00.002-07:002014-06-28T08:45:42.273-07:00WHILE ALL THE WHILE <div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Love like a vapor - <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
love like an inkling of <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
what was or what might be - <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
comes through the wall <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
as if the wall was a window: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
splintering bricks and <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
turning mortar to treacle,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
while all the while there is a door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Love like a an upstart -<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
love like an agitator mad <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
at contentment - fumes at the elders <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
who abide in a bedroom <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
more like a wedding chapel:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
flickering candles <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
dapple the stained-glass shutters, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
while all the while there is a door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Love like a soldier - <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
love scarred from battles <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
that have only just ended - <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
cries liberation: scores <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
of gaunt, haunted prisoners<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
find that their shackles <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
are like cheap Yuletide garland, <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
while all the while there is a door.<o:p></o:p></div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-59857917716494198242014-05-23T17:35:00.002-07:002014-05-23T17:35:46.695-07:00TALES FROM CLANDESTINE CRUSADES PART ONE - THE TAXICABS WITH THE SCIMITAR MEDALLIONS<br />
<br />
The taxicabs with the medallions<br />
that resemble the medieval scimitar<br />
have no meters or two-way radios.<br />
Their stern and deliberate drivers<br />
will take you to any location<br />
within New York City’s five boroughs,<br />
as far into Jersey as Newark,<br />
in New England, as far as New Haven,<br />
and well into Westchester County<br />
for ten dollars and ninety five cents.<br />
<br />
This bargain is fixed as a homage<br />
To A D. 1095:<br />
When The Knights of the Studded Scimitar,<br />
from whom these chauffeurs are descended,<br />
left the humid suburbs of Castoria<br />
to join the Clandestine Crusade.<br />
The Knights were intent upon driving<br />
the Saracens out of Assyria,<br />
the Visigoths out of Carpathia<br />
the Cantalopes from Areola<br />
and the Orioles from Baltimoria<br />
<br />
But they sailed into southernmost Europe,<br />
and they lingered in lower Sardinia.<br />
They ate tons of polenta and mussels,<br />
which they sautéed in saffron and cinnamon<br />
and washed down with port and zambuca –<br />
until they got terrible dysentery.<br />
(and this was especially unfortunate,<br />
since their trousers were leather and chainmail.)<br />
<br />
Exhausted, and quite dehydrated,<br />
The Knights of the Studded Scimitar<br />
limped into the port of Brundisium,<br />
which was under the fey jurisdiction<br />
of a genial rogue theologian<br />
named Simon the Hairy Apostate.<br />
Simon had seven fine wives,<br />
and each wife gave him one dozen daughters<br />
<br />
Simon supported his family<br />
with a fleet of brocaded gondolas<br />
that he leased on a bi-weekly basis<br />
to the Knights of the Gnarly Aorta.<br />
This was a fateful transaction:<br />
The Apostate was using the gondolas<br />
as the bait in his quest to find husbands<br />
for each of seven dozen maidens<br />
<br />
But the Knights of the Gnarly Aorta<br />
were a band of discreet homosexuals<br />
who would never be looking to marry,<br />
but were always most willing to ferry<br />
all the wealthy young men of Brundisium<br />
from the docks to the seedy marinas -<br />
as they sang their provocative arias,<br />
and humbly declined to take tips.<br />
<br />
PART TWO - THE EIGHTY FOUR DAUGHTERS OF SIMON THE HAIRY APOSTATE<br />
<br />
Simon the Hairy Apostate had eighty four daughters:<br />
Some of them were completely without warts,<br />
and all of them knew how to stretch the stew.<br />
<br />
The prettiest one was Clarissa Sensa Verruca<br />
<br />
(Clarissa was also the oldest, But only by three and a half days.)<br />
<br />
Clarissa’s sisters, in age order, were:<br />
<br />
* Hyacinth the Oblivious ,<br />
* Ermentrude the Introspective,<br />
* Twelve-fingered Cunegunde ,<br />
* Black-eyed Susan, (She was named after the boxer, not the flower.)<br />
* Skippy Marie,<br />
* Diaphynna the Slight,<br />
* Corduroy the Prescient, (named after the song, not the road or the trousers.)<br />
* Joan<br />
* Pandora the Implorer<br />
* Leda the Landlubber,<br />
* Melissa Due Verrucas<br />
* Hyppolyta the Inconsiderate,<br />
* Phoebe With All Those Freckles,<br />
* Weepy Cocoa (also spelt Koko.)<br />
* Simonia Blanche,<br />
* Constance Ad Hoc,<br />
* Patina Offoria<br />
* Serena Euphoria<br />
* Cacapha Euphonia<br />
* Foxy Brown (Names after the color, not the crime-fighter)<br />
* Teresitannofathousanddays, (named after Simon’s sister, not the town in Wales )<br />
* Toeless Deirdre<br />
* Samantha Focaccia<br />
* Diptheria (named after the dance, not the disease.)<br />
* Joan II<br />
* Co-mingla the Mixer<br />
* Cementia the Stable<br />
* Hyjinx (also pronounced Horseplay)<br />
* Carolingia<br />
* Christmas Carolingia<br />
* Pickles Flambeau (What?)<br />
* Suspicia the Cautious<br />
* Clammy Palmyra<br />
* Cyd Charisse 1922-2008<br />
* Hortensia the Alert<br />
* Janice Scott Joplin Tissue<br />
* Bonnanafannafofearly<br />
* Crustaecia Au Jus<br />
* Paradiddle (A rhythm baby)<br />
* Resplenda Sweet<br />
* Joan III<br />
* Fermata<br />
* Ella Fitzmorristown<br />
* Charo Marie<br />
* Headleigh Talullah<br />
* Cornucopia<br />
* Iris Petalstem (pronounced, “Rose”)<br />
* Zippy the Cyclops<br />
* Joan III part two (“Joan Gets Wise”)<br />
* Major Barbara<br />
* Minor Barbara<br />
* Hanna Barbera<br />
* Halla Muffla<br />
* Kiki Deepdish<br />
* Somnambula Defenestra<br />
* Sloane<br />
* Deidre<br />
* Rose E. DeRivative<br />
* Elma Floodgate<br />
* Termagant<br />
* Hillarious Rhonda DeWitt (who blew a free lunch.)<br />
* Morticia Mortui (the last woman to let you down.)<br />
* Clydesdale the Ungainly<br />
* Sloane II<br />
* Sabrina Una Verruca<br />
* Simulacretia Marie (Dad’s favorite)<br />
* Carbonata Saspirilla (Dad’s root beer)<br />
* Margarita Villa Maria (She did well in school.)<br />
* Euphegenia Manbait (She did well after school.)<br />
* Scabby Phyllis (she did well to avoid school.)<br />
* Medea Jean<br />
* Edna Saint Louis Missouri (pronounced “Sappho”)<br />
* Sloane Verrucoso<br />
* Nimble Luanne<br />
* Kahlua Encarta (the drunken Know-it-all)<br />
* Inflatable Adria<br />
* Neolithia Domestica (the Farmer’s Daughter)<br />
* Cammuta Cafeteria<br />
* Dymphna Quattro Verrucas<br />
* Apollonia Kaboom<br />
* Deleteria Anne<br />
* Tinny Alicia<br />
* Sioux C. Queue<br />
<br />
<br />
Simon had no sons.<br />
<br />
Simon also had no walking-around money.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-24974059519096313382014-05-03T15:46:00.002-07:002014-05-03T15:46:53.016-07:00The Solitary Dies and Goes to Heaven So, the Creche and Crucifix,<br />
the Sages and the Saints,<br />
for all the pain and longing<br />
they exorcise or temporize,<br />
are just supposed to bring me<br />
to this casting off....<br />
So, the chips of sacred wood,<br />
the fragments of tortured bone,<br />
gathered from my pockets,<br />
and placed in my folded hands,<br />
are just supposed to give me<br />
the key to another portal....<br />
So, the maxims that the blessed<br />
chain passed on to me,<br />
and the slogans that the teeming<br />
throng instilled in me,<br />
are just supposed to calm me<br />
as I go into the dark....<br />
So. the death of flesh and bone<br />
is just another incubation;<br />
a kind of excarnation.<br />
So. what was flesh and bone<br />
becomes a sliver of ciborium;<br />
a spatial moratorium;<br />
a temporal arboretum.<br />
So. While I lived, I was frustrated<br />
by a little time in a vast space.<br />
Now, I am consecrated<br />
to a little space for a vast time.<br />
So. Finally. The Beginning. Again.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-45151953645991224842014-04-17T13:19:00.000-07:002014-05-03T15:43:36.983-07:00IF YOU AND I CAN'T BE FRIENDS ANYMORE <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If you and I can’t be friends anymore, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’ll deal with it: just go on being you, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I’ll be me. What else is there to do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
(And why did I not realize this before?) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If there’s no way of knowing what’s in store,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Then I’ll do this, and you do that. Beshrew <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mendacious knaves who say we misconstrue <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When we all-too-well understand the score. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I wanted you to love me, friend of mine, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But if you won’t or can’t – I’ll get along, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And so will you. We both will be as fine <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As fine can be. This moment, right or wrong, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Is what there is. I will not ask or pine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For something else: I’ll let myself be strong. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-84566437175852833642014-04-16T04:52:00.001-07:002014-04-16T04:52:39.589-07:00Spy Wednesday Blues One dip into my deep and churning urn of perfidy,<br />
and I'd come up with several friends and lovers to betray -<br />
but I don't have the hour for that sour symphony,<br />
or the rituals of treachery that mark this special day.<br />
<br />
It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -<br />
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.<br />
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:<br />
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.<br />
<br />
Today is set aside for a peculiar meditation.<br />
Today's a day it's best to stay away from clarity:<br />
Between the quisling and the quitter, who's more fit for condemnation?<br />
Can selling out and giving up be forms of charity?<br />
<br />
It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -<br />
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.<br />
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:<br />
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.<br />
<br />
I dream about Judecca every day for forty nights -<br />
The Fallen One is weeping sheets of ice, and breaking wind.<br />
He never seems to see me, which is why I can't decide<br />
if I am passing through, or there for keeps, as Judas is.<br />
<br />
It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -<br />
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.<br />
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:<br />
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-63703589469282549942014-04-03T16:41:00.002-07:002014-04-03T16:41:47.864-07:00Divertimento Most people chew gum for the big burst of flavor.<br />
Some people chew gum till it turns into putty.<br />
Only you deal with a mouthful of nothing,<br />
and that’s why I asked you to dance.<br />
<br />
Most people put me in mind of John Calvin.<br />
Some people put me in mind of John Lennon.<br />
Only you strike me as Saint John the Baptist,<br />
and that’s why I asked you to dance.<br />
<br />
Most people said I should go on vacation.<br />
Some people said I should sleep until dinner.<br />
Only you ask me to show you my office,<br />
and that’s why I asked you to dance.<br />
<br />
Most people pack up their fans in September.<br />
Some people pack up their tables in April.<br />
Only you sweat with me all through December,<br />
and that’s why I asked you to dance.<br />
<br />
Most people want me to say what I've heard.<br />
Some people want me to prove that it’s true.<br />
Only you want me to see if it matters,<br />
and that’s why I asked you to dance.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-28950031901669790342014-03-25T12:46:00.003-07:002014-03-25T12:46:40.503-07:00Nimrod's LamentIncorrigible Man,<br />
Who leaves alone nothing;<br />
Man who does not build,<br />
But piles and piles;<br />
Big-headed, dim-witted man,<br />
Leaving his place<br />
To go where he does not belong:<br />
Look at me atop my garish tower -<br />
Far, far from where I was,<br />
Nowhere near where I wish to go -<br />
Calling for help<br />
Loudly and often<br />
To servants who no longer<br />
Understand me.<br />
To servants who no longer<br />
Understand each other.<br />
Look at me, you people<br />
Who are just like me,<br />
Who can think of<br />
Nothing better to create<br />
Than monuments<br />
To self-importance.<br />
Look at me,<br />
If you can still see me.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-67321419030586012802014-03-21T03:17:00.000-07:002014-03-21T03:17:12.220-07:00You Have Been Gone for Eight Years and Five Months,It is November of 1980, and<br />
The Philosopher says that Love<br />
is the child of Plenty and Want.<br />
You Have been gone for eight years and five months,<br />
<br />
but you are with me wherever I go -<br />
you are with me at Manhattan College;<br />
you are with me in Philosophy 101;<br />
you are with me at the end of the beginning.<br />
<br />
I know The Philosopher is right,<br />
and I have known it for almost nine years:<br />
not because I have come so far,<br />
and yet I have so far to go;<br />
<br />
not because there is so much to learn,<br />
and I've burned all the midnight oil;<br />
not even because I am Irish,<br />
and our Tribe is a Terrible Beauty:<br />
<br />
I know The Philosopher is right, because<br />
you have been gone for eight years and five months,<br />
but you are with me wherever I go:<br />
“J.R.” stands for “Plenty” and “Want”Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-18349211551301369732014-03-15T19:54:00.000-07:002014-03-15T19:54:23.946-07:00Friends Don't Let Friends Friends don’t let friends cruise<br />
along the razor-sharp shores<br />
that hug the porous borders<br />
of Lower Agoraphobia.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends lose<br />
the petty cash or the private stash<br />
in the venial casinos<br />
of New Babylonia<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends know<br />
what friends don’t need to know:<br />
and friends don’t let friends go.<br />
Friends don’t let friends go.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends choose<br />
To be hampered by dampers or briers<br />
when the purest desire is to sing<br />
‘round inspiring fires.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends bruise<br />
scarred, aching shoulders on boulders<br />
when some timely assistance<br />
might slightly enhance this Resistance.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends show<br />
what friends don’t need to show:<br />
and friends don’t let friends go.<br />
Friends don’t let friends go.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends use<br />
cold, moldy towels,<br />
diaphanous cowls, too many vowels<br />
or breakaway trowels.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends fuse<br />
restraining enjoiners<br />
to courageous deployment<br />
of outrageous rejoinders.<br />
<br />
Friends don’t let friends sow<br />
what friends can’t bear to grow:<br />
and friends don’t let friends go.<br />
Friends don't let friends go.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-25768083342025000232014-03-13T03:00:00.001-07:002014-03-13T03:00:03.678-07:00A Star, and Some Debris? You get some credit from me<br />
for attempting to break the stalemate<br />
by leaping up out of the argument<br />
<br />
and re-entering from a fissure<br />
in your enemy’s chain mail logic.<br />
You get some credit from me:<br />
<br />
I, too, despise confrontation,<br />
and the moderator’s smug rejoinders<br />
are worse than the morning sun<br />
<br />
when you’re only just getting home<br />
or meeting a girlfriend who spurned you<br />
and now wants, of all things, a hug.<br />
<br />
Most of all, you put me in mind<br />
of the sacred gadflies of our history<br />
who turn the destructive force<br />
<br />
of presumption against itself -<br />
and I always welcome reminders<br />
that anything can get better.<br />
<br />
All of these things I grant you,<br />
and you get some credit from me:<br />
but what if the only results<br />
<br />
you get for your stab at irony<br />
are a crib death for pure dedication,<br />
and another epoch of stone?Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-33059029765706915372014-03-04T15:18:00.003-08:002014-03-04T15:18:25.130-08:00Mediocre Gambler Blues <div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And fortune has been kinder than I’ve realized or
acknowledged.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was not my aspiration when I sort-of went to college, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bizarre.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A hustler at a bingo parlor really shows them how;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And a patsy in Las Vegas would have bottomed out by now;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My poetry is crumpled dollar bills at break of day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My lesson plans are Instant Breakfast in a pewter stein.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I tread the boards but once a week, and then I draw my
pay.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My students hear a voice that I just know cannot be mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The holy souls who know me best are much too far away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My brain's a ball of oil paint - my blood is turpentine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You knew it when you met me: (If you’re who I think you
are…)<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’m a mediocre gambler at a charity bazaar.<o:p></o:p></div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-20915014607582588052014-03-01T06:38:00.003-08:002014-03-01T06:38:43.797-08:00Purgatory SonnetI’ve had enough of eschatology -<br />
I want someone to take me out of here:<br />
Away from him whose wit is sophistry;<br />
Away from her whose beauty is veneer.<br />
I’ve had enough of solipsistic dreams<br />
I’m keen to be awakened, or destroyed<br />
In blankets, sown with insufficient seams,<br />
by bombs that blow before they are deployed.<br />
I‘ve had enough of framing yellowed scrolls<br />
And straining shelves with books I’ll never read -<br />
If they would even place me on their rolls,<br />
How deft in verse-discernment could they be?<br />
I too, am baffled by this bilious heap:<br />
I only hope that now I’ll fall asleep.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-77300727441342904512013-12-04T17:30:00.002-08:002013-12-04T17:30:36.414-08:00Twenty Four Lines for Barack Obama - first published in January of 2009My heart has a memory for slights<br />
that eclipses all introspection.<br />
My soul knows that recognition<br />
is a prologue for justice and healing.<br />
<br />
My heart would be warm in a mob<br />
that is bent on the redress of history.<br />
My soul is so tired of fighting,<br />
and will barter comeuppance for concord.<br />
<br />
My heart wants to cling to its gold<br />
and cast flinty glances at beggars.<br />
My soul wants to live with less<br />
for the sake of the harvest to come.<br />
<br />
My heart and my soul wrestle on<br />
as a man swears he’s ready to lead –<br />
as he says he has rolled up his sleeves<br />
and insists that it’s time to grow up.<br />
<br />
My heart and my soul say a prayer -<br />
as he says he believes in something<br />
that prevails in the shattering gale –<br />
my heart and my soul say a prayer.<br />
<br />
A man my own age takes an oath<br />
to the joy of a throng of admirers:<br />
he ends with “so help me God.” –<br />
and my heart and my soul say it with him.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-34741707805984280252013-11-30T08:00:00.000-08:002013-11-30T08:01:36.725-08:00No Black Friday Sonnet<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Black Friday found us more concerned with thrift<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Than acquisition; more concerned with Peace <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Than pretty parcels. Thus, the gloom did lift, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And our full hearts felt something like relief. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Black Friday found us grateful for the day, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But conscious that the precious hours would fly: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We tuned our ears to Billie Holiday, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And filled the air with cinnamon and spice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Black Friday was not really black at all - <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
For cautious optimism was the mood.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We noted Winter’s bright advance on Fall,</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And smiled, because we finally understood:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Time, in its time, puts each thing in its place - <o:p></o:p></div>
And worry neither speeds nor slows its pace. <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-77073936343873752192013-11-11T08:14:00.000-08:002014-06-30T07:35:58.485-07:00Fragile Little TimeFragile Little Time <br />
<br />
We will leave this place of selfish tears, <br />
and search for your monument wherever <br />
it chooses to bloom. Unnecessary <br />
to erect a proper, lifeless headstone when <br />
a splendid, mighty inkling of forever <br />
is already swaying, already beloved, <br />
in some delightful place not far from here: <br />
some fine, new world where appreciation <br />
is unleavened by memory, where you are <br />
always as strong, healthy and beautiful <br />
as on the fairest day of the fragile <br />
little time when we were blessed to love you. <br />
<br />
God bless Unc. God bless Bill. Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-75127363554347029482013-09-22T11:04:00.000-07:002013-09-22T11:04:00.073-07:00Purgatory SonnetI’ve had enough of eschatology -<br />
I want someone to take me out of here: <br />
Away from him whose wit is sophistry; <br />
Away from her whose beauty is veneer.<br />
I’ve had enough of solipsistic dreams <br />
I’m keen to be awakened, or destroyed<br />
In blankets, sown with insufficient seams, <br />
by bombs that blow before they are deployed.<br />
I‘ve had enough of framing yellowed scrolls <br />
And straining shelves with books I’ll never read - <br />
If they would even place me on their rolls, <br />
How deft in verse-discernment could they be? <br />
I too, am baffled by this bilious heap: <br />
I only hope that now I’ll fall asleep.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-52245153329019827292013-08-31T08:58:00.001-07:002013-08-31T08:58:10.482-07:00Labor Day SonnetBy thunder struck, as if a noise sufficed <br />
to make you lose your balance, or your place - <br />
and no one said, “Alas! By lightning spliced!” – <br />
Whence comes the graceless grimace to your face? <br />
How is it that so amiable a slug<br />
Is fretful on this lazy day? Absurd! <br />
Yon sheep, that greeted butchers with a shrug,<br />
Is made egregious by discouraging words? <br />
I watched you through the summer days, agog <br />
That anyone could be so bloody dull: <br />
Now comes September, and you catalogue<br />
The things you wish to do before the fall!<br />
When you behave as if you are aflame,<br />
It means that Labor Day is come again. Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-27094757538845511432013-07-22T12:23:00.000-07:002013-07-22T12:23:37.598-07:00Two Poems; One Subject I. <br />
<br />
<br />
Humility <br />
<br />
(Note: the poet wishes to write a poem, at long last, about humility, and discovers that humility is itself a poem. He resolves to write the word twice, once as the title of a poem, and once as the body of the poem, but his sense of aesthetics forbids him to do so. He resolves to write the word itself, and leave it alone, without explanation, on the page, but his scrupulousness will not allow him to attempt to publish a poem without a title. At a loss for what to do, but determined to associate himself with the sacred topic, he consults his arrogance, and it is given to him that he should write the word once, compose a parenthetical remark, and write the word a second time. No one learns anything, but to the poet, it kind of looks like a poem. ) <br />
<br />
Humility <br />
<br />
<br />
II. <br />
<br />
Summa Humilita <br />
Who cannot be faithful will never be humble. <br />
Who cannot be hopeful will never be humble.<br />
Who cannot be loving will never be humble. <br />
<br />
Who is not wise is too far from humility. <br />
Who is not just is too far from humility. <br />
Who is not courageous is too far from humility. <br />
Who is not temperate is too far from humility.<br />
<br />Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-36380640958032413382013-05-30T12:42:00.002-07:002013-05-30T12:47:04.800-07:00The Triple-Layered Wrong I’m of a mind to shape an angry song<br />
And sing it every time I am provoked<br />
By learned fools, and foolish learned folks<br />
Who celebrate the Triple-Layered Wrong. <br />
<br />
A brittle man may think a vicious thing, <br />
A bitter man may put it into words: <br />
What kind of preening Judas has the nerve <br />
To broadcast his invective? Who dares bring <br />
<br />
Fair language and fair logic to the shame <br />
Of masquerading mire as point of view ? <br />
Who slurs free speech as scoundrels’ right to spew<br />
Whatever foul opinion dolts maintain? <br />
<br />
Thus Triple–Wrongs from wayward notions grow: <br />
First thought; then said; then published or proclaimed - <br />
And bigotry by any other name<br />
Is bigotry, and bigotry must go. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-45975892581225151822013-05-20T15:34:00.001-07:002013-05-20T15:41:39.431-07:00There Are Two Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy-five Beautiful Women in New York City
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
There are two thousand, nine hundred seventy-five<o:p></o:p></div>
Beautiful Women in New York City:<o:p></o:p><br />
So far, I am only empowered to mention four names.<o:p></o:p><br />
I think of them always, and hope that they are the Original
Desert Mothers –<o:p></o:p><br />
and if they are not, I will sing about them just the same.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Melania fills me with seas of desire, but not even one drop
of longing:<o:p></o:p><br />
She makes me shed tears I am too proud to wash from my face.<o:p></o:p><br />
My eyes become prisms; my cheeks become stain glass windows
from forehead to chin:<o:p></o:p><br />
I am finally a history of mysteries delightful to trace.<o:p></o:p><br />
Melania sits on a wrought iron bench near the colorful
center of Dis,<o:p></o:p><br />
And tells the same story in seven or eight different ways<o:p></o:p><br />
Sooner or later the details congeal into something
resembling a prayer,<o:p></o:p><br />
And the prayer will be here on my breath as I face Judgment
Day<o:p></o:p><br />
Melania refuses to wear the same gown for two different
daybreaks, and aches<o:p></o:p><br />
For the laundress to catch on that each is a singular frock<o:p></o:p><br />
She tells me this tragedy turns to a thing we will celebrate
seven days hence,<o:p></o:p><br />
She tells me that comics must do something other than mock.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
There are two thousand nine hundred seventy five<o:p></o:p></div>
Beautiful Women in New York City:<o:p></o:p><br />
So far, I am only empowered to mention four names.<o:p></o:p><br />
I think of them always, and hope that they are the Original
Desert Mothers –<o:p></o:p><br />
And if they are not, I will sing about them just the same.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Syncletica eats when she hungry, and knows that the world
isn’t going to end<o:p></o:p><br />
When her parents discover that she gave her heart to her
soul.<o:p></o:p><br />
My finest attire is tattered compared to the back of her elegant
train.<o:p></o:p><br />
No dish is as savory as gravy from her earthen bowl.<o:p></o:p><br />
Syncletica scolds any girl who arrives from the front with a
frown or a scowl:<o:p></o:p><br />
If modesty doesn’t delight you, she says, you should flee.<o:p></o:p><br />
She says that no means is an end, and she means it. She’ll
say it again and again:<o:p></o:p><br />
Authentic ascetics will get it eventually<o:p></o:p><br />
Syncletica guides her lovely blind sister from gardens that
smell of delight.<o:p></o:p><br />
They’ve gathered no nosegays: they do not require perfume.<o:p></o:p><br />
They remember aromas and moments whenever they feel they are
straying from peace:<o:p></o:p><br />
Remaining in grace, they upbraid the squat prophets of doom.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
There are two thousand nine hundred seventy five<o:p></o:p></div>
Beautiful Women in New York City:<o:p></o:p><br />
So far, I am only empowered to mention four names.<o:p></o:p><br />
I think of them always, and hope that they are the Original
Desert Mothers –<o:p></o:p><br />
And if they are not, I will sing about them just the same.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Theodora believes that compassion is meted to each one who
needs it. And yet,<o:p></o:p><br />
Her shame is a mane that she wears in the company of men.<o:p></o:p><br />
She’ll tame any beast and she’ll soothe any sickness, but if
a transgressor should press<o:p></o:p><br />
For penance or sentence, she whispers, “Don’t do it again.”<o:p></o:p><br />
Theodora adores every sister she has, but she lives with her
brothers and sons:<o:p></o:p><br />
She dreads that the bread in her belly will jell into bile<o:p></o:p><br />
If the good wife who baked it turns out to be someone she
wronged seven stories ago:<o:p></o:p><br />
That why she conspires to expire on the shores of denial.<o:p></o:p><br />
Theodora’s example is bitter to sample, but nourishes me
nonetheless:<o:p></o:p><br />
I long to belong to an order that knows me so well<o:p></o:p><br />
That it gives me a mission with my full volition, labors
with me until dusk,<o:p></o:p><br />
Escorts me to shelter, and leaves me alone in my cell.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
There are two thousand nine hundred seventy five<o:p></o:p><br />
Beautiful Women in New York City:<o:p></o:p><br />
So far, I am only empowered to mention four names.<o:p></o:p><br />
I think of them always, and hope that they are the Original
Desert Mothers –<o:p></o:p><br />
And if they are not, I will sing about them just the same.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Olympia swims through the sea, and she strides through the
sand, but she never drifts<o:p></o:p><br />
Her fair-weather friends all pretend they’re afraid she may
break<o:p></o:p><br />
Until they require her mythical strength. Then, they land on
her beautiful back,<o:p></o:p><br />
With weight beyond weighing - and say that it’s all for her
sake. <o:p></o:p><br />
Olympia knows that endurance is all: she will not fall for
tantrums or fits: <o:p></o:p><br />
You conspire to make her perspire with your curses and
threats,<o:p></o:p><br />
But she saw you coming while you were still plotting and
sniffing around Holy Ground: <o:p></o:p><br />
And none such as you have been able to get to her yet. <o:p></o:p><br />
Olympia does what she does, and she’s done as the talkers
are coming to terms – <o:p></o:p><br />
And she’s there to fill in when the pilgrims can vigil no
more. <o:p></o:p><br />
You can scuttle the shuttles and harry the ferrymen: she
will be waiting for you<o:p></o:p><br />
When you and your stowaway friends cannot swim anymore. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
There are two thousand nine hundred seventy five <o:p></o:p><br />
Beautiful Women in New York City: <o:p></o:p><br />
So far, I am only empowered to mention four names. <o:p></o:p><br />
I think of them always, and hope that they are the Original
Desert Mothers – <o:p></o:p><br />
And if they are not, I will sing about them just the same. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p> </div>
Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-32194802244102373782013-05-18T05:33:00.004-07:002013-05-18T05:33:34.902-07:00While All The While Love like a vapor - <br />
love like an inkling of <br />
what was or what might be - <br />
comes through the wall <br />
as if the wall was a window: <br />
splintering bricks and <br />
turning mortar to treacle,<br />
while all the while there is a door. <br />
<br />
Love like a an upstart -<br />
love like an agitator mad <br />
at contentment - fumes at the elders <br />
who abide in a bedroom <br />
more like a wedding chapel:<br />
flickering candles <br />
dapple the stained-glass shutters, <br />
while all the while there is a door. <br />
<br />
Love like a soldier - <br />
love scarred from battles <br />
that have only just ended - <br />
cries liberation: scores <br />
of gaunt, haunted prisoners<br />
find that their shackles <br />
are like cheap Yuletide garland, <br />
while all the while there is a door.Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4711696411069028989.post-57269910099366126862013-05-15T17:22:00.003-07:002013-11-11T08:12:36.319-08:00Fragile Little Time We will leave this place of selfish tears, <br />
and search for your monument wherever <br />
it chooses to bloom. Unnecessary <br />
to erect a proper, lifeless headstone when <br />
a splendid, mighty inkling of forever <br />
is already swaying, already beloved, <br />
in some delightful place not far from here: <br />
some fine, new world where appreciation <br />
is unleavened by memory, where you are <br />
always as strong, healthy and beautiful <br />
as on the fairest day of the fragile <br />
little time when we were blessed to love you. .Jay AHHHHHHHHHHRRRRR!http://www.blogger.com/profile/04607700331682367801noreply@blogger.com0