March 7, 2014 § 3 Comments
my father loved cohen:
“let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie”
my mother did not thrive on sadness, or
had already been through those wars.
whatever: she never let it near, enough to hear the darkness
in the chords.
March 5, 2014 § Leave a comment
it’s a state of knowing
this isn’t it. G-d I’m done waiting take me there
now, even if it’s not for me.
I’m tired and I want to be held like a child.
I’m post-fear and I want to be helped up and held.
if that’s no way to say goodbye
take me there now.
I’m done with this patience for sorrow
and smsing captured sunsets that don’t seduce anyone onto the immediacy of a Boeing
or into the urgent eye of post-fear panic syndrome.
and I’m a stepping stone until the next-big-thing
and I’m a leonard-cohen-track demanding to be drowned out rather than half-listened-to
and I’m background noise desperately seeking the attention of a wayward spotlight
who has his eye on the backstage safety-net multiplicity of me’s.
many there are.
have your freedom at the expense of another.