Gauguin

I just had a little
welling emotion erupting
from the unacknowledged

emerged as only a few tears and a
chest full of sadness

all because I didn’t have someone
to love and hate and love as much as
Gauguin had Vincent
absurd -- I want to be sustained
not murdered

disambiguation

there it is again

it is written to me.

"The nostalgia is sometimes as overwhelming as the beauty of the music."

and it reminds me of my recent bout with nostalgia
it was unexpected, though isn't that always the way
like the surprise of finding a bundle of letters
you'd loved beyond reason then deliberately forgotten

my truck broke down, full of stuff for the warehouse
a good distance away, the brakes started to stick
it was the smoke that made me stop, pull into a small lot
I sat in the hot sun for a long time

listening to Reading Lolita in Tehran,
eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and
when my mind and body were full
finally flopping in the sun listening to a Grateful Dead tape
(it had been a gift from my friend)

that's what did it, the combination of
good live dead music and the sun
it opened a door at the bottom of my spine
filled me with youthful sunshine









"It makes your words softer to see them handwritten."

this touches me
makes me wonder why

am i so hard?
and i know without thinking

that yes
i am














"we repair"

i wait

i cannot sleep
there is a further threat of rain

i cannot sleep
for it all might wash away

i did sleep through a flash flood once
at the cabin

i was fortunate that we didn't get
dragged out into the river

the girls and I would have floated
all the way to New Orleans

beginning of the day

waking with the ache of mind and body
my brain hurts, yeah, my brain
hurts

eyes won't stop watering

i cannot find Ganesh
i cannot get my arms around it all
to hand it over anyway
i am drowning

it is beyond night
and beyond morning
i am in those impossible invisible hours
the relentless rain brought me out of the dreams
of my tired and aching body the pressure
changes have brought that ache back to my joints

it is the remnants of a tropical storm
blasting its way over us
the rain hasn’t stopped for a couple of days
at times like these the intensity increases
and I am convinced the water is rising to this second floor
sweeping down the hill taking the house with it

it seems that if i lie back down
it will sneak in through my ears
slip over my body
tuck my head under its surface
and drown me

Ivan knows the way but he's not telling

Hey Elvis,

Fifteen years ago I started to think about writing to you. Writing for you. Writing for us all. But it became overwhelming. Or I am a coward. Or both.

Nevertheless, it is time.