morning tears of weeping
daytime tears of dilligence
And
evening tears of joy
nighttime tears of peace
Therefore
life is beautiful.

You would ask what I want to eat.
You would spend the day going to five or six stores.
You would call each of the kids to see how they were doing.
You would barbecue.
You would cook way too much food for two.
I would smile.

GIFTS

A gift, a detail.
Something for you,
something to give away,
something from me for you,
a little of my little bit.
Beautiful words from my sea,
poems disguised as letters.
A little of my life, of time.
A piece of myself, to give to you.
Gifts with a soul, wrapped in words,
poems for everyone, no need to pay anything.
From the distance of my heart, something of my intimacy,
I know it's a poor gift that has no value,
gifts that cannot be commercialized,
gifts for you strangers.
A little of my life wrapped,
in my seas of days,
to resonate in you,
if you want it,
they're free,
for everyone,
with love,
letters...





REGALOS



Un regalo,un detalle.

Algo para ti, 

algo para regalar,

algo de mí para ti, 

un poco de lo poco de mí.

Bonitas palabras de mi mar, 

poemas disfrazados de letras.

Un poco de mi vida, de tiempo.

Un trozo de mí mismo, para regalarte.

Regalos con alma, envueltos de palabras, 

poemas para todos, sin necesidad de pagar nada.

Desde la lejanía de mi corazón, algo de mi intimidad, 

ya sé que es un pobre regalo que no tiene valor, 

regalos que no se pueden mercantilizar,

regalos para vosotros desconocidos.

Un poco de mi vida envuelta, 

en mis mares de los días, 

para resonar en ti, 

si lo quieres, 

son gratis, 

para todos,

con amor,

letras...

Nobody Can Tell I Can't Breathe.

So I Tell Myself If I Scream These Thoughts.

Loud Enough In My Head Maybe Someone.

Will Hear Me.

I Can't Breathe.

Please Can A Single Soul Hear Me?

I Feel The 10 Pound Weight On My Heart.

And The Thorns Around My Throat.

Will I ever be weightless?

I Don't Believe People Actually Care.

But Then You Can Repeat.

My Favorite Things I Forgot I Told You.

You Will Always Know Me Better Than Myself.

I Can Feel In My Bones You Get Annoyed.

Every Single Time I Reply ‘I Don't Know’.

I Struggle To Believe You Saying It’s Okay.

Is It Really?

Do You Only Talk To Me Out Of Pity?

Or Is It Really You Care?

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                A Geriatric Motorcycle Gang Stops at Joe’s Eats

Grammies and Pappies in their backwards caps
Headbands, leathers, and chain regali-ay
Rolling thunder before their afternoon naps
Roughing up the pancakes at the breakfast buffet

Menacing any muffins in their steam-table raids
Yelling at the pancakes; they rattle the chef
They all seem to have forgotten their hearing aids:
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO YELL; I’M NOT DEAF!”

“NOW, HONEY, WHERE’S MY DIABETES KIT?!”
“THE BISCUITS AND MAPLE SYRUP? RIGHT OVER THERE!”
“HE SAID HE’S GOTTA GO AND TAKE A **!”
“HE’S MAKIN’ US LATE FOR TH’ RUMBLE, AND THAT AIN’T
           FAIR!”

The pack leader takes his gang back on the road
On a three-wheeler bike named Thunder Toad