On the eve of me leaving,
alone, for France,
Your surprise last message, grieving,
came. You took that chance.
Since then I’ve had to roam
to Vegas, Dallas, Orlando,
Bountiful and San Antone,
with thoughts of you as I go.
I have always intended
to sit down and write,
but as days and nights have blended,
it never feels right, quite.
For an answer takes deep thought, time, and caring
To pen honest words worthy of sharing.
A friend wrote the following email:
“I apologize for intruding in your e-mail/life but I MISS YOUR POETRY SO MUCH! What happened to your one-a-day poem goal? I still check your blog at least once a day. WHEN you post, my heart starts beating & I relish every word! Then there is the day after day after day of….nothing. I hope all is well with you and you are just busy.
~A starving, yearning, craving, longing, ravenous, eager, hopeful, languishing (you get the drift) poetry fan.”
In response, several thoughts came up. This is probably the most correct (and profound):
She asked where and why/
my poems vanished. She never/
grasped her muse power.
You crave my touch, yet/
your vocal silence strongly/
sets up barriers.
OR
You crave my touch, yet/
your thoughtless silence sets up/
walls and barriers.
Sometimes my complete/
honesty is tres’ scary./
Your forgiveness lifts.
When Dave’s seat choice is done/
it’s understood:/
There’s always fun!/
And fun is good!/
In the right section/
we can yell and scream!/
Insult goalie’s imperfection!/
and holler: “Go Team!”/
Your ticketed section/
shouldn’t impact your seat picks:/
Make a defection/
to Section Twenty-Six!/
That’s what I did!/
‘Cuz that’s where the fun is!
I, driving top down, /
stretched both my hands skyward and /
embraced the sunrise.
OR
I, driving top down, /
stretched both my hands skyward to /
embrace the sunrise.
You EMERGEd anew/
trance. Tornadoes drove me to
Assemblage safety.
OR
You were a new trance./
A tornado drove me to /
assemblage safety
If I can’t love you/
and grow with you forever,/
then what is the point?
Texas is so hot/
I watched two trees get in a/
fight over a dog.
From the grassy knoll/
I see where x’s mark the/
spots that changed our lives.