gathering (a poem for my father.)

I walked a mile for a red cent and some hope.

Amid the conflicting images-

snatches of boyhood

and finding your letters at the bottom of garbage heaps

– i tried to gather some love for you.

You, who I don’t know.

Who I mirror

Who’s violence I remind them of.

I think wellness is in your shed.

Part of it, at least, can be found

in that coming together

and finding of tools- pink and blue.

And I remember being happy

on a couch, you and I

laughing

my head on your chest.

“For My Mother” and “For My Grandfather”

 

Looking through older work isn’t bad. Its actually a dope excercise in writing because you see where you have been- what you have evolved from, left behind, or transformed through. Here are two of my older poems that I found in a book this afternoon.

For My Mother

One day I wish to take you home

with arms spread like love unfolding,

with wind at our backs,

with the trembling love of my youth,

with the valley of lessons learned,

and you will forget that no ring was ever exchanged

nor rice thrown.

For My Grandfather


And so you linger

Like dust shifting on country roads

Guiding me home to a place where the southern sky may receive me.

Where the endless green and gold may take me and hold me.

Keeping me.

I often travel those roads now

searching for a glimpse of you.

Your laughter in the evening wind.

And when I am still all goes quiet

And in this place I know you have arrived.

If only for a fleeting moment, I am calm.

Like autumn warmth setting down on skin.