You're dying, you know
Your memory
The way you smell
Almost gone
The flecks of colour in your eyes
Are fading
The callouses on your hands against my bare skin
Did that ever happen?
Your voice,
Could've been the wind,
Or a crows call
You're dying
If not for the sound of your heart,
Still beating in my ear,
You'd be dead already
The memory of you will fade,
And fade
A memory of a memory
I will forget your smile,
The sound of your voice,
I'll forget the way you always smell like freshly cut grass
The way you look in orange
But the sound of your heart beating,
When I laid my head on your chest. . . . .

what a wonderful coincidence to discover that when I look up  
one of my two favorite words
threshold
it is linked to my other favorite word
phenomenon
but my life is laced with coincidence
my third favorite word
they happen daily
like itches

for instance,
today I did a wikipedia search for Ezra Pound
because my poetry student daughter fell in love with one of his pieces
I find that from 1945 to 1958
Mr Pound was incarcerated at St Elizabeth's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington D.C. after being found incompetent to stand trial
for treason against the United States
my father worked at St Elizabeth's hospital for 30 years
including the 12 that Mr. Pound was a patient
my father, who kept his poetry hidden in a little black book

I have a vision of him
young at the time
enamored with the 60 plus year-old poet
seeking him out and finding him
resting outside at one of the tables
enjoying the simplicity and intricacies of nature
and perhaps they have a chat about poetry...
my father having a chat with Ezra Pound
70 years before his granddaughter falls in love
with one of his poems
a poem already written and filed away somewhere in the memory of a once beloved poet

threshold: the magnitude or intensity that must be exceeded for a certain reaction, phenomenon, result or condition to occur or be manifested.
“nothing happens until the signal passes the threshold”

If you knew the depth of my disbelief
then you would know the reason
I walk in shadows

all the truths that pass as lies
and misconceptions
feeble minds dream you see
in subtle nudgings off the grid

the comfort of the unaware
is a sharp stick in my side
I must tell these truths in bloodied tongue
for even a feigned look
holds some comfort

when the smirks subside
in the holy bliss of truth
I will have long left the great lie
I will have watched from the shadows
with my children and my children's children
as it unfolds like Sunlight upon the shadowed moon

enveloping the enlightened souls
the few that remain

I pace myself in search of a moment:

I seek the day as a man,
The sun at 5p.m. with ripened
Sweat,
A cold beer with hard hat at my side,
A few words with a co worker
As though brothers in arms,
The sweet smell of dinner
In a place called home,
The run of my children toward
Me as though a hero, daily.
The kiss of my wife as she fought her
Own battle,
And the evening when I realise
The moments are not moments,
But a momentum;

I savor the journey.

Moments in life seldom fair
destiny to some unfair
luck to some coins toss
fate to some never to end loss
a few do bear the unfair pain
the rest doth await for spoils gain
vultures circle a dying prey
human life an unending grey
hurt were the innocent and simple
pains of time lines of old age wrinkle
where doth tis unfairness end
a few till grave in turmoil spend
poor and rich in life unfair
sickness and health in life unfair
many hath asked the question why
yet the answer elusive and shy
held in the heart truth despair
silent tears life unfair

High
Overacheived
Noble
Or
Respected
Graduation
Is best feeling ever
U lose people
But then remake new
Friends

As reckless bound beauty
belies the exhaultation
of standing on the edge
of eternity
God ! There is freedom
in the temptation of the fates
One must kiss the lips of death
to live