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Poet Commentaries

Nights, Seem, Stormy

 

 

I do not write a new poem today.  Time is taken to compile and to purposely share.  Poetry is data not a selfie. It tells us something.  

What follows are three poems on death. These first three haiku, a chain, are an outline and where I begin.

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[149]

 

soft steady rain
lightning and thunder nears
resonating eyes

my spirit
charged ions in water
attracts a cat

listening for last words
what were her first
who listened then

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If it were photographs I was dealing with there is photoshop.  Light could be played with,  the level of the camera and the depth of field could be altered and all would greatly affect the picture.  What I add to the above chain is a setting, a bit of prose to help readers get context.

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Charged Ions


The lightning grows distant, now over another town.  From the vantage of our house on the hill I can watch for hours, counting the seconds till the rumblings arrive.  I am thinking about her and feeling the slow torturous pull of connections being ripped out.  Odd where it hurts.  

Try as I might I cannot track the pain to any specific part of me.  The raised neck hairs from the storm do not hurt but at least I see the dimples as they pull.  These can be brushed and there is a softness and surrealness about them.  They are not being plucked.  Connections somewhere are slowly being ripped out and are bringing up with them parts of me.  

My mother in law is in hospice, the drum beats are getting closer not further.  As I quietly weep I understand the pyramids.  A way of not quite losing.  A way of keeping the storm in sight over a distant town.  A quieting of the thunder.  I also understand the Egyptian fondness for cats.

my spirit
charged ions in water
attracts a cat

 

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This last short piece was written for a friend on the eve of his wife passing.  

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Night Seams

 

Gently I pull back the curtain of the night sky, careful not to let the day in. Slowly, so that the beads of stars do not percuss, I enter, letting the curtain drop behind me. Getting comfortable on Jupiter, I find her hand, lean in and whisper gently in her ear.

night seams
….perfectly stitched….
       prayers grope for light

 

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