Tacos

Sometimes,

When I’ve been drinking

Someone suggests tacos

And I forget,

Or choose not to…

But tonight,

I am getting tacos

And attempting to rejoice,

Even though,

Nothing makes sense.

Mama

She’s dying as I write this sentance.

A grand old dame that lived a life-

A mother, a daughter, a widow, an actress

She is a piece of of the local fabric

And that fabric will soon be torn

And we will be torn with it.

We call her mama

And she lets me too

Even though I am not

Officially her son.

I am not prepared for her death

And death does not care

But her children care

Her stepchildren care

And I too care, feeling from the outside

As she lies in hospice

Not wanting too many people there

Perhaps she will have a last cigarette,

Enjoying the thing that is killing her in the end

And perhaps it will be great

And she will fall asleep

No more coughing

And we can begin

To rip.

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Wanting

An everlasting love

One that would not shrink

At the sight of me.

A real moment of peace

I still remember how it smelled

When you kissed me

And I cried

And all was forgiven

All that my heart desired

And I was comforted

In a way I almost never have been since…

Thank you for that.

Alone

The fan is steady

Its hum is a beauty

Faithful to drown out noise.

Stories

I tell myself a story

Every single day

Perhaps I do not stop enough

And ask if it is true.

Last Sermon

It is hard to be here

Just be here

In this moment

And not die

And I can think of many things…

That are gone that are wrong…

Cake..

But there is a desire

And I am not trained for it

And I want to find its expression…

But still be safe.

Pleased to drink

Though I am a dog

Bred only for war

Still I feel the sun upon my face.

Miracles

The beauty of wine

Thousands of years in the making

Is the supression of that

Which we do not even know

To fight…