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timmy
Member
| Joined: | Fri Jun 9th, 2006 |
| Location: | Oz, Minnesota USA |
| Posts: | 323 |
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Posted: Tue Jan 29th, 2008 07:12 pm |
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i tell them i eat red herring,
kipper snacks from a tin
i wait for the mailman, the news
paper, anything with print
i travel from upstairs mirror
to downstairs mirror, write a letter
to Elizabeth Stabenow: stork
teacher who plucked words
from my sleeves in 12th grade
and made me rewrite them
i recall strange things: my pants
hanging over my honeymoon head
board or sitting at my mother’s funeral-
one of the flowers from a red bouquet
near her casket dropping on an air vent,
dancing for a few pale seconds
and no one else noticing or caring
drinking Mad Dog 20/20 in 1972
with Rae Ann under school bleachers
at a September football game; me later puking
and Rae Ann cradling my head
between her exquisite breasts beneath
her soft white hooded sweatshirt,
stroking my neck with her small hands
my father’s English Leather, the smell
of Pall Mall cigarettes on his driving gloves,
the burning leaves of October from our back
yard behind the Beach Road house
frying bacon, vanilla, French toast: maple syrup
in the middle, just the way my father liked it
i tell them there are stories in me, stacked
like attic boxes and me trying to get them down
before i forget the very syllables of my words
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Swann1719
Member
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Posted: Wed Jan 30th, 2008 07:13 pm |
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| So lovely. Thank you!
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timmy
Member
| Joined: | Fri Jun 9th, 2006 |
| Location: | Oz, Minnesota USA |
| Posts: | 323 |
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Posted: Fri Feb 1st, 2008 03:27 am |
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Swann:
Thank you...
I will appreciate 50 much more when I'm 70...
timmyLast edited on Fri Feb 1st, 2008 03:27 am by timmy
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Will Kemp
Member
| Joined: | Thu Feb 14th, 2008 |
| Location: | Kentucky USA |
| Posts: | 76 |
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Posted: Sat Mar 15th, 2008 10:04 pm |
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| The last lines were wonderful -- I felt the sense of urgency, the need to get the stories out, the need to finish living, before you die. You totally sustained the mood. It works.
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