-


what do you say to someone
you love from such a distance ?

a stroke could be measured by
how far it is from the first floor
to the intensive care unit

or from the steering wheel
to the door **** of the
hospital entrance

or from your drive way to
the spot where you have to
pay for parking

or from the handset of
your telephone to his ear—

exhausted,

you can only
whisper
into it—

"i love you Daddy"

and hope this time
he can feel your
breath...


s jones
Nov 2021


.

With you, I had no sight
I was left blind
When you whispered the words
"I love you"

The careless kisses you gave
left a scar on my lips
feeling only pain
when another kissed me

The gentle touch of your hand
left a burn on my face
to only flinch
when another strokes my face

But my love wasn't real
nor was yours
it was just easy to say "I love you"

All in, do nothing, or do this

line by line imagine-ing, the verb behind what if,
the quest ion, sparking attention at the mention

cognosis troubler, bull in a china shop,

bringer of missile launching knowledge to fight with
a fuzzy visioned ****** breed of Andre stature,

pinged, 'im. Right between the eyes...

imagine doing that on the nineth at Pebble Beach,
with a nine iron, poised to

smack
a pink and white Ping classic purchased on Ebay for six bucks.

-- can't get that picture,
-- never had the feeling of whacking ball after ball into the desert, for the helluvit... if you missed that

you must have a metaphor of your own, for aiming at nothing,
and hitting dead center every time.

I had this big TV in front of me. No sofa. The living room was just
the computer desk, and I was using this big TV as a monitor.
The kitchen light- next to the small living room- was on, the light from the hallway behind me was on. But I kept the living room light off. The screen was bright and the night was dark. It was too bright for my eyes and the room felt like a sad, private wonderland.

I heard that song for the first time. I didn't know what to expect. As the song started, and Julian Casablanca's voice- raspy, young and confused- filled the house, I came alive. My eyes lit up, I sat up, I put my knees on the chair. I loved it. I felt like my wonderland was real. This house- this cage, it was small and miserable and magical. This dimly lit living room, empty of furniture, the sound of my neglectful mother watching TV at the end of the hall in her room. This room. This small, miserable wonderland.

It was a portal to hope. The screen, the light. It had been a year of isolation. I heard his voice, the song, and I was a child again, and all I knew was eternal wonder and hope. I wasn't consciously thinking about it all- it's hard to explain- but everything was real. I hoped for a future, and friends, and a life, and in that moment the living room and the light and my mother and her TV were real, and that future I longed for and cried for was real. Everything was real.

Layers of life laid out
Words like scratchy stroked paint
Scorched Harsh brush over

Life brushes new thoughts
Stillness can prevail the mind
Where once was cluttered

Splatter moments stay
In the stillness of my heart
Canvas of my life

The sea was
a shade of the
deepest blue,
the waves,
moved by
strong winds
made thousands
of white strokes,
as if touched by
a painter at work,
a seagull, with
black tipped
wings flies
in the sky,
home to the
sun, reflecting
upon the ocean
the brightest
shade of pure
diamond,
touching
my feet,
clear and
the bringer
of colorful
stone
treasures,
I allowed the
waters to take
me over,
I closed my
eyes, within
my heart and
soul, still it
echoed,
the endless
music of the
waves, asking
for my embrace
and calling
me home