Tag Archives: loss

MCCALL

MCCALL

you told me
about your beloved dog

whose name,
unforgivably,
I have forgotten

I am on my way
to forgetting everything
every day
the jigsaw puzzle
loses another piece

and the picture on the box
must have been replaced
because I would
swear by
all that is holy
I have
no knowledge of this one;
would attest
in a supreme court not
to have seen it before

not to have
seen you before, remembering
good times, the odd
great time
before it all went to Hell
turned cataclysmic

falling further from grace
than fallen angels
ever did

no pride, I guess it was,
that threw our
little world into
terminal
       tail spin

the worst kind of pride, pride raging sad shadow
born of childhood pain
beyond our
undetstanding at the time

that time of which
you told me, your your legs
striding through
the veldt,  dog whose
name
   I have forgotten chasing
you, loyal
to a fault behind you

and me
    not in this scene, here
just  whisper

waiting for the moment of
our meeting and
the thought
(for which I do
so apologize
   that here you are
   here we are

neither of us from this moment on
ever going to be alone
   

VICTORIA

VICTORIA

go well
brave friend

you have slain
half your demons
there are
but a few more

and here he is
figure of power
spirit
   of sunshine

a life so close
in the offing will
be
   as if you
were welded together

just think of me
retreating from my last demon
after most beautiful battle

no terms of surrendef demanded
in truth we
found ourselves matched
fought
   to a draw
a forever stalemate

no time here
for memories to
be clung to

winners and losers and
those who are neither

these
are the stakes

when the dream is everything
it is unbearable to fail

A DAMN

A DAMN

always
in a rush to
publish

sometimes I leave typos
all over the page

sometimea my
typos
themselves
have typos

sometimes I wonder
when I write

where the Hell
is the poetry
where
is that thing
the poem

not in the world
and apparently
not
on the page

maybe
I should go look
for it

maybe we
should all go
look for it

try to figure out
what the Hell
has happened to it

go
find Dante
he
   being the
expert in
such matters

hear it
from  hia own mouth
hear it from
all those
voices

the blessed
and the damned

how
   small poetry has got
allowed
itself
to get

barred from Heaven
closed off
from Hell
lost
all its real estate
kicked
off its land

nothing big left
to talk about
nobody listening
no
imagination
inspiration

so just shovel that shit put
it
out there
have to
put it there regardless

put it out there
fast and
furious
      wrap, drench
the world in it
before it dies
entirely

no time
to worry about
this and that
the dream
of certainty
delusions
of perfection

the time
for care
and concern
has all but
vanished
is long-
time gone

no worry about typos
lack of rhyth, rhyme
missed meaning
what
does not
scan

no one
gives a fig

no one gives a damn

RIGID

RIGID

when British satire
became
  (Oh, what’s the kerfuffle?)
self-
    satire
  (losing its old
job description)

and British comedy got
its priorities straight
putting its foot
             right up its
mouth

when Goon and Python hilarity
cowed in the shadows
onset
     of Orwell reality

the laughter of the gods
truly
    deserted this place

left it to sink with
traditional flawed false graciousness
under the waves, get
swallowed by
        ocean, reign of
old stuck-
up unconscious

spirit
    of dead gravity much
bemoaned by Pope

in his assault on all things
vapid, and without
                     substance yet
weighed-
       down by Dunce
rigidity

most righteous of true
rigidities such kingdom
could ever
know

LOST

LOST

we have lost
poetry somewhere
down the line

no subtlety
to speak of
      no time
to let the word
find itself

relish the slow verbs
the ones
in whose nature
much inclination
to digress

and beauty
         what has happened
to beauty in all
its carbon copied, cloned,
photoshopped glory?

our
   idea of beauty
(very idea) is

ugliness
itself