My Father's Passing

It is embarrassing for me to include myself in a forum of great American writers. But I don't, and please see that. This is merely a pre-arranged obligation I seek to fulfill in lieu of rehashing the greats of Unit Two in a local class I am taking. We, the authors and me, have had our love-hate affair and I am spent, ready for a new season.

And yet I harken back. Back to my father's death. I share some of my inner workings. I wondered about it at first but then read these words from my own pen:

Invitation
Should I let you
take a look?
The anger
the temporal lust
in this book
write it in the sky
or let it die
either or
whatever, for
I should be known for this
like a good witch
or a bad witch
or a silly, wet kiss...
12-21-92

You will notice that my movements in that era form strange looking, even distracting, tree trunks. I don't write that way today. Truth be told, I don't write much at all. Though I don't like my former style, it had something that currently I miss. That said, my heart poured itself out in many private journals, blips along my timeline on this broken Christmas orb. This represents a fraction of but one and it bleeds me, so much so that I needs must recover before opening other veins!

So pull up a chair and, today it seems, a hanky.

(A little background: My paternal grandparents had full custody of me and they were the grandest parents ever. In the keenest sense of terms, my grandfather was my father and my grandmother was my mother. It's as simple as that. Whatever else you need to gather the words will tell. That is their worth.)





















Life
It's just like me
running its length
felling what's meant
to fall down
the bones overflow
this charnel house
I'll never catch up
or get out.
4-15-92

The Moments
I lie
all the time
with a word
or a smile
or a thought
that I happen
to think
I'll give
you a treasure
a map to the stars
drawn up
in invisible ink.
4-15-92

Anger
Spurt
the dud in the box
of illegal works
a stand in Alabama sold
bags of festive wick explode
a dud
is something in the south
you call
when lit
the light
goes out.
4-15-92

What Comes
Everyone goes
to see a dead man
Everyone lays
a hand on his dead skin
Every heart hopes
eternal life for him.
Every head thanks
the Lord that it's not them
5-11-92

Puking and Mewling
Ice cream wish:
a dream of mine
where I would climb
your great spine
the chine
of a monumental man
my baby-Grand
the way
you return
to who you were
your tender skin
the rubber bed...
Two weeks
of you
they say
you're dead.
5-11-92

Divine Youth In Asia
God
Is in my eye
I know
He sees me
Watching
Him
Do we have a deal
Dear Lord
Take it now
His life
Is yours
Take it now
He is too thin.
5-15-92

Heaven
I treasure this
your dream
and hope the bliss
you seek
bends your ear
behind your eye
and sets the coal afire again.
5/92

The Death
You died
at home
in a little girl's room
how she was scared
by the sesame count
and just as the curtain
pinned over purple faces
so did that cloth
cover you
in those places.
7-26-92

Attention
Another goodbye
and
another good cry
it must be nice
to get to
thank twice
another hour long
of hanging on
and telling the story
of our loved one.
7-26-92

Echoes
A wheeze
and a puff
the bed down the hall
and my heart swollen up
as your head starts to fall
all those who love you
come watching your mouth move
tilting the cup
you
and stealing the minutes
permitting
and letting
you go.
7-26-92

The Man
Who expert
you expert
a thing of
the length of
time
a question of fish
or politics
or changing the world
with the twist of a pen
the hours
racked up in
the intimate desk
as always
you cared
and knew best.
7-26-92

Come Again
Freud
and Merck
and Stonewall
sit up
and after you've gone
with the lights out
they talk
about who you were
and what you did
and what has become of you
and sometimes
I'm walking by
when in the night
they whisper you.
8-15-92

Granted
You spoke too loud on the phone
with the TV up
and the sports turned on
and the radio games with the volume blaring
while you were sleeping sound
with the world turned off
and the folks shut out
who race to fall asleep
you snore so loud
then the sounds you make
with your coffee cup
and your bowl of soup
with the toothbrush booming on
and the noise that escaped
I should have been
listening.
8-15-92

Last Look
I moved to see you
I couldn't believe you
had gone away
those rosy lights
danced on your face
the powder bulb
had flattered you
in your grey suit
and pink birthday shirt
Alabama tie
Seminole pin
and slippers on
we tucked you in
and said goodbye
like lost children
with blood and water
in our eyes.
8-15-92

Gone
I know you
are not coming back
for midnight visits
or mirror messages
or blooming bee bushes
I know you
are not coming back
to finish the oatbran
or read the law books
or use season tickets
or go to England
or see the garden
I know you
can't tell us you love us
or hug us
or kiss us
or bug us
I know you
and remember
the last thing you gave me
when you realized
you weren't coming back.
8-15-92

Obit
They called me
and asked me
who you were
on the spot
I couldn't give them
the story of that
what did I know?
All I know
is how I feel about you
and nothing can make
a paragraph of you
where names are misspelled
and letters rub off
and thousands go out
in the trash
though it's the worst
I did my best
and hope you know.
8-15-92

Implore
It feels like forever without you
though only years
I still can remember
the fullness of your voice
and the way the fog
interrupted the news
the Snun Brothers
and "that shit-ass
flappin' flies with
my Sunday hat"
I try
never to forget
I try
never to forget
the horror in finding
only three months without you
I can't make it
a year
I can't make it
a lifetime...
come back,
old man.
8-20-92

Boneyard
What do I get when I visit you?
On the way I feel like I'm getting somewhere
until I get there
and wonder why I am alone
and I realize you are gone
though they hid your bones behind a wall
you're not there at all.
8-20-92

Entertwine
Is it like this
when the face relinquishes all ground
far from the challenge of firmness?
Such nascent beauty
a strapping old gender
clicking heels and hat up
waving to that flashbulb
childhood
beautiful, maddening world
oh cherished!
That all meaning
is not time
and
that I had a taste
of Capote's raw turnip
and that he had a taste
of mine.
11-30-92

Cycle
When one goes out
another enters
filling the space
though not replacing
through the birth of others
we find ourselves delivered.
12-1-92

Inevitable
Life can keep you
waiting
you damn its name
you curse its pretty feather boa
and one day
a glance at your own reflection
finds you wearing it.
3-20-91