~~~
sometimes right and wrong,
good and bad,
are accurate single summaries of
the momentary episodes,
the essays,
that constitute the whole human voyage
to parts unknowable
there are but a handful of persons
who might fit the lightness
of your loveliest of theories
but how could you know
that long ago,
one declared independence from the
oppression of personal dependencies,
from either
admissible fear,
more than,
admirable courage
and yet,
those few,
those so very precious few,
a band, a squad, a fireteam
of successful piercers of
the bark of an ever scaling armor,
are warmth welcomed and comforted
within my hearts hearth,
under the protection
of my soul's furnace,
for welcoming flawed me,
fully,
without reservation
Nowadays,
I write mostly for
the lost children,
the lost loves,
the long agos of long ago,
those whose caring and loss,
scars and medals
somehow
were adjudged,
deemed too costly,
for everyday wearing
and for
those mates,
whose caring and the sharing
of their losses,
demands memorization, savoring,
writing down,
proofs of open boundaries
for me,
***in the losing, is the saving,
in the poems that honor recall,***
therein, thereof, and
thereby,
gaining
for our lives,
a modest, husbanded,
allowance,
a fund mutual,
of caring,
hard earned
and keeping us alive
~~~
October 26, 2015
8:48 AM
NYC
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 5:34 PM UTC
~~~
sometimes right and wrong,
good and bad,
are accurate single summaries of
the momentary episodes,
the essays,
that constitute the whole human voyage
to parts unknowable
there are but a handful of persons
who might fit the lightness
of your loveliest of theories
but how could you know
that long ago,
one declared independence from the
oppression of personal dependencies,
from either
admissible fear,
more than,
admirable courage
and yet,
those few,
those so very precious few,
a band, a squad, a fireteam
of successful piercers of
the bark of an ever scaling armor,
are warmth welcomed and comforted
within my hearts hearth,
under the protection
of my soul's furnace,
for welcoming flawed me,
fully,
without reservation
Nowadays,
I write mostly for
the lost children,
the lost loves,
the long agos of long ago,
those whose caring and loss,
scars and medals
somehow
were adjudged,
deemed too costly,
for everyday wearing
and for
those mates,
whose caring and the sharing
of their losses,
demands memorization, savoring,
writing down,
proofs of open boundaries
for me,
***in the losing, is the saving,
in the poems that honor recall,***
therein, thereof, and
thereby,
gaining
for our lives,
a modest, husbanded,
allowance,
a fund mutual,
of caring,
hard earned
and keeping us alive
~~~
October 26, 2015
8:48 AM
NYC
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