I sit in the sun room, I am shaded for the sun
is only newly risen, low slung, just above the horizon,
behind me, over my shoulder, early morn warm

Slivers of sun rays yellow highlight the wild green lawn,
freshly nourished by torrential rains of the prior eve

The wind gusts are residuals, memoirs of the hurricane
that came for a peripheral visit, like your unwanted cousin Earl,
in town for the day,
too bad your schedule
is fully booked,
but he keeps raining on you,
staying on the phone for so long, that the goodbye,
go away, hang up relief is palpable

The oak trees are top heavy with leaves frothy like a new cappuccino,
the leaves resist the sun slivers, guarding the grass
from browning out, by knocking the rookie rays to and fro,
just for now, just for a few minutes more,
it is advantage trees,
for they stand taller in the sky
than the youthful teenage yellow ball

I sit in the sun room buffered from nature's battles external,
by white lace curtains which are the hallmark
of all that is fine in Western Civilization,

and my thoughts drift to suicide.

I have sat in the sun room of my mind, unprotected.
with front row seats, first hand witness to a battle unceasing

Such that my investigations, my travails along the boundary line
between internal madness and infernal relief from mental pain
so crippling, is such that you recall begging for cancer or Aids

Such that my investigations, my travails along the sanity boundary
are substantive, modestly put,
not inconsiderable

Point your finger at me, demanding like every
needy neurotic moderne, reassurance total,
proof negative in this instance, of relevant expertise!

Tell us you bona fides, what is your knowing in these matters?

Show us the wrist scars, evidential,
prove to us your "hands on" experiential!

True, true, I am without demonstrable proofs
of the first hand,
my resume is absent of
razors and pills,
poisons and daredevil spills,
guns, knives, utensils purposed for taking lives

Here are my truths,
here are my sums

If the numerator is the minutes spent resisting the promised relief
of the East River currents from the crushing loneliness that
consumed my every waking second of every night of my years of despair
                           divided by
a denominator that is my unitary, solitary name,
then my fraction, my remainder, is greater than one,
the one step away from supposed salvation...

Yet, here I am sitting in the sun room buffered from
nature's battles by white lace curtains which are the hallmark
of all that is fine in Western Civilization

I am a survivor of mine own World War III,
carnaged battlefields, where white lace curtains,
were not buffers but dividers tween mis en scenes,
variegated veins of colored nightmares, reenactments of
death heroics worthy of Shakespeare

Did I lack for courage?
Was my fear/despair ratio insufficient?

These are questions for which the answers matter only to me,
tho the questions are fair ones,m my unsolicited ******,
they are not the ones for which I herein write,
for they no longer have relevance, meaning or validity,
for yours truly

I write poetry by command,
by request, good or bad,
this one is a bequest to myself, and also a sidecar for an old friend,
who asked in passing to write what I know of suicide,
unaware that the damage of hurricanes is not always
visible to the naked heart

These hands, that type these words are the resume of a life
resumed,
life line remains scarred, but after an inter-mission, after an inter-diction, an inter-re-invention
in a play where I was an actor who could not speak
but knew every line, I am now the approving audience too...

But I speak now and I say this:

There are natural toxins in us all,
if you wish to understand the whys, the reasons,
of the nearness of taking/giving away what belongs to you,
do your own sums, admit your own truths
query not the lives of others, approach the mirror...

If you want to understand suicide,
no need to phone a friend, ask the expert,
ask yourself,
parse the curtains of the
sun room and admit, that you do understand,
that you once swung one leg over the roof,
gauged
the currents speed and direction,
went deep sea fishing without rod or reel
and you recall it all too well, for you did the math
and here I am, tho the tug ne'er fully disappears,
here I am, here I am writing to you,
as I sit in the sun room.

Memorial Day, 2011

O.K. God, time to chat: my friends in Australia
asking for rain, and the conflagration has proved
sufficient to press us with your awesome skill set,
your methodology, driving the knife point into us
to point to us
the errors of our owned ways

this has altered the terms of our truce, so get it pouring,
open them skies and let it rain, bringing betterdays

the Day of Atonement (our MUTUAL Judgement tabulation)
is 9 months away, your plus/minus yellow list on lined legal pad
of what have I done this year is badly in the red,
bordering on flaming ******* orange,
I ain’t in the mood for all your
purposeful accidents,
mocking our human ratiocinations

your angels whisper me private like,
you’ve got free will,
the devilishly blessed curse bestowed upon some of the creatures,
but this beef between us could be resolved with a little rain

you want me to pray in January?
something I never do so early in the year,
as my sin chiefest is procrastination, the dire need is greater
than just our private war, so here comes my blended knees,
anger and a begging

begging with a pinch of insouciance of one who knows
your dating profile lies and exaggerations



<!>
The Hebrew Prayer for Rain

Af Bri is the title of the prince of rain,
Who gathers the clouds and makes them drain,
Water to adorn with verdure each dale,
Be it not held back by debts left stale,
O’ shield the faithful who pray for rain...
May He send rain from the heavenly towers,
To soften the earth with its crystal showers,
You have named water the symbol of Your might,
All that breathe life in its drops to delight,
O' revive those who praise Your powers of rain…

Our G‑d and G‑d of our fathers,
Remember our father Abraham who was drawn after You like water,
Whom You did bless like a tree planted near streams of water,
You did shield him, You did save him from fire and water,
You did try him when he sowed by all streams of water,
For his sake, do not refuse water.
Remember Isaac whose birth was foretold over a little water,
You did tell his father to offer his blood like water,
He too was heedful in pouring out his heart like water,
Digging in the ground he discovered wells of water.
For his righteousness' sake, grant abundant water.
Remember Jacob who, staff in hand, crossed the Jordan's water,
His heart attuned to You, be rolled the stone off the well of water,
When he wrestled with the angel of fire and water,
You did promise to be with him through fire and water.
For his sake, do not refuse water.
Remember Moses in an ark of reeds drawn out of the water,
They said: He drew water and provided the flock with water,
And when Thy chosen people thirsted for water,
He struck the rock and there gushed out water,
For his righteousness' sake, grant abundant water.
Remember the High Priest who bathed five times in water,
He bent and washed his hands with sanctified water,
He read from the Scriptures and sprinkled Purifying water,
He kept a distance from a people turbulent as water,
For his sake, do not refuse water.
Remember the twelve tribes You did bring across the water,
You did sweeten for them the bitterness of water,
For Your sake their descendants spilt their blood like water
Turn to us, for our life is encircled by foes like water.
For their righteousness' sake, grant abundant water.
For You are G‑d, who causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall.
For a blessing, and not for a curse -Amen!
For life, and not for death -Amen!
For plenty, and not for scarcity —Amen!

<!>
p.s. allow extra time this September next, when you make your confession, your most irreverent fan

my congenital heart defect


~for C.E.H.~

’tis true, my heart long damaged by repeated resuscitations,
the endless revivals invasive + new favorite hits, now so enlarged,
the doctors say, no más, no más, mr. boss, don’t let your guard down

too small to accept more standbys, ones needy most, the beseechers,
the ones who only know a single equation, love = pain, are witnesses,
no theorem proofs required, the ****** expressions unholy sufficient

a few invitees rush the red velvet ropes, inside, they hunker down,
finding a cozy artistic artery hangout, filtering my blood-streaming,
eyes for new artists, new poems, new strangers to take in, shelter...

much caring for the living, strains existence, a heart has limitations,
every human has capacity constraints for loving, but they bring their
friends, coequals in pain/heartaches/false positives, no rinse cycle

it is like calcium layering on you bones, additive, addictive, andieting
is a precursor to exhilarating dying, when love and pain passes
the point of no return, once, then, there is no expiation, no forgiveness

for the trail of your damaged acts requires admittance, recompense,
3 in 1 motor oil de minimus, you want to love equally, but impossible
task, yo, won’t last, but stretch flex skin to squeeze one more in, SMH

the puzzled doctors find my weakness DNA genetic, my lexicon has
no word in any language for barricade, fence, restraints, keep out, the hearts, smelling my blood, open cells, pile in, no blame attached

lender of first resort, giving my organs, what an exceptional way
to hasten my inevitable and total fulfillment, stretching my limits

I want my parents to stay here forever,
Coz if not for them both I am so lonely,
Lonelier I would be when they leave.