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heavy rain from a darkening sky
and buildings  fall

no one knows what will be left
running down the nowhere
where dreams die
on a metal tray
at the hospital morgue

trouser leg pushed up
the search for black ink
and a child's name

perhaps the arm
the hip

the back?

and the children plead,
lie to me,
tell me,
i won't die,

and the silent screams
are left in an eternity of why?

foul and bitter hearts
will prevail
on both sides,
this is the poetry of death
a lonely light
shall be the only
one to shine upon
a poorly lit spot
until its image
reveals a well
hidden spark
In my youth I strove to
ride all the WorldWinds,
until falling off, no longer
able to remount the beasts.

I miss the lofty views,
but not the extreme
exhausting turbulence.
Our grasp should never
exceed our reach.
Dads are people sons never
forget, for good or bad and
when the son is gone there
is no one to remember the
father. Say for some fading
black and white photos in a
scrap book: "That was your
great grandfather. He fought
in the war. People called him
Bud, but his real name was
Wyett with an E. He taught
me to cast a fly in a mountain
stream and tune the engine
in my first car, and not to lie."

My grandsons almost grown
are good and loving chaps, but
never ask me about their Great
Grandfather. Out of sight, out of
mind, I guess. Maybe I am the last
to remember or care. Our touchstones
to the past are frail at best.
Yes, on this day and everyday
I remember my Father with the
same love he bestowed upon me.
The first time I saw the ocean
I was transfixed, caught like a
fish on a hook, or a newborn
baby first viewing its mother.
Enraptured and forever
emotionally captured.

For over 75 years the irresistible
pull and power of the sea does
still inspire and enchant me.
This is a purely one-sided affair,
as the vast oceans pays to me, or
any human no attention whatsoever.
I am compelled to revisit my coastal
Pacific sea several times a year, to
renew this intimate enduring
relationship. Recharge my batteries
as it were.
Some say humans evolved from
life in the salty sea, can that be the
attraction? A salt fixation?
I have always believed in the suggestion
and sound advice of "Carpe diem" (to seize
the day).

However now I am more inclined to sneak
carefully up behind it and gently pick its pocket.
My seizing days are pretty much over.
To quote the late Mister Buffett,
"Changes in latitudes and changes
in attitudes" Going with the flow
of necessity. To quote my grandfather
"The old grey mare ain't what she used
to be." Or stallion either.
”Are you in?”
said the revolutionist

“Or are you out?”
said the gambler

“What are you on?”
said the pusher

“What are you about?”
said the philosopher

“What are you of?”
said the professor

”Where are you at?”
said the explorer

“Do you feel?”
said the poet
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