Into Thin Air
I would dissolve
Into thin air
˜
Never to be
Seen again
˜
My memory
As faint
˜
As a pink balloon
Floating against
A white satin sky.
˜
˜
Picnic in Regent’s Park
Today would be a day
I’d be happy to once
Again be living in England;
I’d have made the trip
From Liverpool to London
With my family and would,
At this very moment, be
Standing along the parade
Route near Westminster
Abbey, catching glimpses of
David Beckham and Elton John
As they arrive for the wedding
Of William and Catherine; I’d
Be wearing a silly hat of some sort,
No doubt, and waving American and
British flags with equal pride; there
Would be a picnic lunch in Regent’s
Park with my children where we’d
Eat Ploughman’s sandwiches on
Brown bread and teach the baby
How to catch a baseball in a mitt;
It would have been a day where
I would have felt a part of something
Memorable, a day to look back on
With a sense of joy, not only for having
Witnessed first-hand a unique moment
In history, but for having shared it with
The people I love most in this life.
Saint Teresa of Ávila
I know I can live
Without you
That I’d be
Better off
But if I end this now
Will it really change anything?
If I knew there would be
Less of me
Without you
And that it would bring
Salvation and rebirth
I would not hesitate;
But I often feel
Powerless
Weak
Tempted
Seduced;
Ultimately you win
For you are all controlling
You know how to satisfy
Every hidden desire
Pacify the most
Profound sadness
Ease the pain and
Calm my troubled mind;
But I fear this must end
Before it’s too late
And irreversible damage is done.
Streets
Wolcott
Maplewood
Rosemont
Washtenaw
Osborn
Arch
Collins
Horno de la Merced
Bissell
La Salle
Fullerton
Pedro Aleixandre
Rafael Cisternas
Ricardo Verde
Micer Mascó
Amadeo de Saboya
Finlandia
Crosshall
Pieter Spastraat
Paradox
Sad when you’re not here,
Counting the days until I
Can see you again and
Have you near;
˜
Sad when you’re here,
Counting the days until
You have to leave and
I must let go;
˜
(The ice cream’s warm
The chocolate’s bitter
The sun spews darkness
The music is inaudible)
˜
They say I should live
For the moment,
Revel in the joy
And love;
˜
I say I should live
In my memories
Where I could
Recall the day
˜
You were born
Over and over
In my mind
Forever.
School For Cows
There should be a
School for cows where
The nearly 1.5 billion heads of
Cattle living on this planet could
Get some sense knocked into them;
˜
And once they were
Able, they would surely
Have a thing or two to teach us;
About nutrition for one thing, that
Consuming their milk and meat is killing us;
˜
That raising cows for
Mass consumption uses
Enough water and grain to feed
Every man, woman and child in the
World who go to bed hungry each night;
˜
That the methane they
Release causes so much damage
To the fragile ozone layer that protects
Us from the sun’s harmful rays, someday soon
This will be irreversible and the effects catastrophic;
˜
So send the cows to school,
Give them a voice that resonates
Throughout the land; let them rise up
Like Egyptians in Tehrir Square, Libyan rebels
In Misrata, Yeminis, Sudanese, Syrians and Tunisians;
˜
Give them a voice that says
Stop killing us for food and lets us share the
Resources and abundance of our planet, changing the
Course of humanity that not one being must suffer so that
Another may exploit what is not even necessary in the first place.
If My Name Was Parker Thibodeau
If my name was Parker Thibodeau
I’d have been born in Bangor, Maine in 1972
I’d have great hair and a degree in art history from
Bowdoin College where I sang in the Meddiebempsters
A cappella group and was a member of the Nordic Skiing team;
˜
Today I’d be living in Newtown, Wales
Where I’d work as the curator of permanent
Exhibits at the Museum of Modern Art in Machynlleth;
I’d have come to Wales as a college student back in 1994,
Where I’d have met the woman who was to become my wife;
˜
Angela, is a descendant of Robert Owen,
A notable figure in Welsh history known as one
Of the founders of social reform; we’d have been married
In 2001 at Hope Community Church and have two sons, Broderick
And Gavyn; how fortunate I’d be to live this life with all its precious rewards;
˜
But then again, life itself is a precious reward
And if my name was Parker Thibodeau, I’d walk
Along the River Severn on Saturday mornings with my
Sons and our two Welsh Sheepdogs, Brecon and Beacons,
Named after a popular mountain range and national park in South Wales;
˜
I’d live each moment to its fullest, taking pleasure
In the simple joys of life, in the routine and obvious,
In the wonders of listening to the rain falling upon the roof,
The sweet smell of my wife’s “speckled bread” baking or the
Taste of her homemade Glamorgan sausage like in Borrow’s Wild Wales;
˜
This would be a privileged and splendid life indeed,
But given that my name is not Parker Thibodeau and
That I do not hail from Bangor, Maine, doesn’t mean I can not
Dream of people I have never met or places I have never been to,
Or hear the rain, smell baking bread or savor every morsel that life has to offer.
September 5, 2002
I don’t even know
When your birthday is
Or what you have for breakfast
At that diner on Pulaski every morning
˜
I’m debating whether or not to call you
Again; I can’t believe it has been
So many years since we
First spoke that day
˜
And though I found
Most of what you said to
Be unintelligible, verging on the
Mad rants of someone who is obviously
˜
Unwell;
˜
There was a moment when I felt sorry for
You, and equally for myself, for I
Am you and could no more
Despise you as I could
˜
My own self.
˜
Don’t Talk To Me About Religion
Don’t talk to me
About religion
˜
When you do, it
Only serves to
˜
Reveal your doubts
About your beliefs
˜
And demonstrate
Your need for acceptance
˜
Which only your god
Can give you;
˜
If you are truly
Enlightened, then surely
˜
Your outward expressions
Of religiosity are unavailing
˜
For if you are a true believer,
Your faith will drive your
˜
Actions to heights
Transcending anything
˜
Your words can define;
˜
If we all could live in silence
What our religions profess,
˜
Humanity would thrive
And religions would bloom
˜
Awakening like flowers which
Lie dormant within the profound
˜
Gardens of Eden that are buried
Deep within all our hearts.
Quesadillas
Priorities change
Life rushes by
Like jet thrust
Turbo charged
Time only to attend
To bodily functions
And the few delicacies
That occasionally manage to
Sneak past and adorn
My senses with pleasure
Nurturing the dilemmas
Procuring insignificant doses
Of wisdom that leave me
Drained and void of the
Ability to manage even the
Simplest task such as inserting
Punctuation marks when and
Where they belong like leaving
The cheese out of the quesadilla
Rendering it no longer what it was
Meant to be but a new thing that
We hope will become something
Useful and permanent and fulfilling
Tethered
Outdoors
Bathing in the comfort
Of watching my children
Playing; swinging on swings
Climbing aboard the wooden train;
Amazed by how everything is completely
Untethered; no matter how many times it is explained,
Or how many books I read on physics, I simply cannot comprehend
How our lives are sustained simply by self-contained organs and the totality
Of whatever forces exist in the natural world…
˜
As the petals from the newly blooming trees drift before my eyes and fall to
The ground, I’m reminded once again of the fragility of life; I ask what
Becomes of them, where they go after they have blindly fallen
From the safety and comfort of their tethered existence?
My older daughter picks up a petal that has
Landed upon my lap and studies it
With curiosity and amazement
As if it is the first time she has
Ever observed the beauty
And innocent delight of
Nature.
Order
Wine
Washing
Salt water
Matzah
Story telling
Washing
Blessings
Matzah
Bitter herbs
The meal
Afikoman
Grace after meals
Songs of praise
One kid goat song
Next year in Jerusalem.
Lost Words
There are some words
That will be never be
Written
˜
They are better off
Kept deep within or
Obliterated
˜
Words that pain me
To write but which
Enlighten
˜
Like rare moments
That are few and
Fleeting
˜
Though they serve to
Lift and bolster my
Resolve
˜
So that when tomorrow
Is only an insignificant
Speck
˜
When I haven’t a voice or
The strength to reach out
Bravely
˜
There will be something
Left to remind you of my
Existence.
My Green Thumbs
I can now add gardening
To the long list of things
I have tried in my life
˜
Three plants have now
Been buried in soil and
Drenched in water
˜
And as I await for the
First sign of blooming
Flowers to confirm
˜
My ability in this art,
I wonder what shall
Become of me if
˜
No flowers appear;
If the leaves suddenly
Turn brown and wilt
˜
Leaving a lifeless mass
Of flora upon a sullen
Mound of dry earth
˜
I would not blame
The sky if the rains
Fell and washed
˜
Me out into the vast
Sea, cleansing my soul
Casting away my skin
˜
Leaving only a shell
To be washed ashore
And found one day
˜
By a little girl with
Pigtails and a luminous
And noble smile, who will
˜
Place me in her little
Plastic pail, take me to
Her house and adorn
˜
Her window box with all
That remains of my good
Intentions and two green thumbs;
˜
But I needn’t worry so, as
I have planted with love and the
Abundant joy of seeing you again.
The Dream Plagiarist
It seems wrong drawing
Inspiration from dreams
˜
When I look to sleepless
Nights while lying awake
˜
Following the tormenting
Scenes of flying machines
˜
And my perilous attempts
At navigating automobiles
˜
It is mere thievery robbing
My subconscious of ideas
˜
That when I must produce
Works defining creativity
˜
My mind can only invent
What it has experienced
˜
Not one original thought
Or a clever point of view
˜
Nothing that makes you
Aroused or enlightened
˜
And when sleep fails me
I shall never be forsaken
˜
For I will lure my dreams
Tempting them with you.
Speed Dialing The Past
EDgewater 4-8362.
How many times have
I called and you haven’t
Picked up? Just to hear your
Familiar voice and some words of
Encouragement. I’m certain that one day
You’ll answer the phone and I’ll finally be able
To tell you all the things that have been going on
These many years since you’ve been gone and so badly missed.
˜
SHeldrake 3-4398.
I don’t know why I’d call or
What a little boy would have
To say to an old man; maybe it
Was to remind you to stop by Gitel’s
For a challah or the Hungarian for a jar of
Creamed herring and some marble sesame halva
For grandma. I wonder who it was that called that warm
August day in 1972 to tell me that my brother had just been born.
˜
ROgers Park 4-9002.
Avocado green everything.
Wasps in the window, all my
Childhood memories condensed
Within your stark white walls where our
First color television set beamed Bill Bixby into my
World, filling Tuesday nights with magic and mysteries
And the allure of one day living on my very own Boeing 720;
Still wonder what Michael Blacker did to deserve his father’s beating.
Cordelia
Though I shan’t possess the riches,
Land or Kingdom to bequeath upon
You a portion of my worth; I will, in
My infinite and undying love, carry
You deep within the warmth of my
Bosom, locked away amongst the
Treasures in my heart; your tender
Beauty and ever present loveliness
Will be all the bounty my life needs
To sustain itself amidst the endless
Torment and cruelty of my existence;
˜
And should your love for me indeed
Be richer than your tongue, you shall
Be rewarded with my gifts; my words
Will not proclaim you, as did the King
Of Britain, banished as your namesake,
And you will remain young and tender
And true in my eyes, never deprived of
My grace and favor; and there will be
No favorites amid my three daughters,
Each will hold a special place with your
Brother, forever preserved in my soul.
My Personal Tranquility Level
At this time next week
My personal tranquility
Level will be at an all-time high
˜
I will be surrounded by
My children, their happy
Faces aglow with innocent zeal
˜
They will shower me in
Love and affection, their
Warmth and closeness soothing
˜
Their presence will allow
Me many comforts; peace
Of mind and a good night’s sleep
˜
I will enjoy their antics at
The breakfast table, delight
In their use of chocolate sprinkles
˜
I will ooze abundant glee
And joyful pride in watching
The older ones play with the baby
˜
My house will be filled to
The rafters with everything
That brings me contentment in life
˜
I will sing with an uplifted
Voice, tears of joy replacing
Those of longing and apprehension
˜
These are the best days of
My life; filled with everything
I have ever dreamed of or desired.
Voyage to the Sun
I imagine that
One day I shall open
My eyes and find myself
Standing on the surface of the sun;
Where the heat will be raw and consuming,
The light blinding though I will not burn; I will see
With pure unobstructed clarity; raising my hands above
My head, I will touch the tops of shooting flames, gaze out
Over the pinnacle of the universe and explode into a hundred billion stars.
Milestones
There is novelty in
Everything you see
Touch, smell, taste
˜
Today, swinging in
The fresh morning
Air for the first time
˜
The sun shining upon
Your downy hair and
Soft creamy cheeks
˜
You waved hello to a
Little girl who let you
On the wooden train
˜
You danced when the
Woman’s phone rang
Playing an Arabic tune
˜
You went bravely over
To the black man giving
Him some wood shavings
˜
You so carefully climbed,
Crept and crawled about;
Every step an adventure
˜
And to see the wonder in
Your eyes, filled my heart
With an abundance of joy;
˜
Witnessing the milestones
That are the steppingstones
Upon which you will walk throughout your lifetime.
Spree
The news headlines
Riddled with bullets
Dripping with blood
˜
Gunman opens fire
Kills a girl, wounds a
US Congresswoman
˜
Seven shoppers shot
To death at a mall in
A sleepy Dutch town
˜
A 24 year-old with an
Automatic rifle taking
His own life in the end
˜
All the wounded never
Recover, families bury
Their dead asking why
˜
Columbine, post office
Sprees, killing for sport
A cureless social illness
˜
I was at a Dutch mall at
The exact moment this
Tragedy was occurring
˜
18 miles from the city
Where I live, but close
Enough to feel bullets
˜
Piercing my flesh.
Simon
Six months ago today
I woke up to find you
Gone, the house void
Of your death agony;
For a moment it was
As if you were calling
My name but I could
Not battle fatigue or
My own ills to attend
To your final moments
Of life, to comfort you
Or hold you in my arms
Like I did when Daniel
Left us years ago that
Warm Christmas night
When James Brown’s
Soul went to heaven.
On that crisp October
Morning, death befell
Yet another beautiful
Life, who gave more
To me than I gave in
Return, more than I
Ever deserved; took
For granted, left in the
Care of strangers all
Those months under
A scorching sun, not
Knowing if we’d ever
Be reunited, not able
To lay your head upon
My chest or feel my
Touch as we slept so
Peacefully together.
And when you finally
Arrived in Liverpool,
Unrecognizable even
To me, I knew we had
Little time left to get to
Know each other again;
Little time to try and be
What we always should
Have been, to give you
What I was only able to
Give you in the fleeting
Moments that we shared.
And to see you lying there,
Lifeless, breathing no more;
To carry you to the garden
Placing you in a plastic bag,
Watching as the nice man
Carried you off to a place I
Would have to wait until my
Life ceased to finally go and
Be once again in your tender
Presence; to look into your
Truthful eyes that never lied
In reflecting the hateful and
Hideous person that I became.
So now I must remain within
These walls of death, hearing
Your cries in the night, forever
Seeing that place stained by
Your passing while I await the
Arrival of a new life to be born
Here, hoping that what is left
Of your soul in this room will
Give me the strength to carry on
Long enough to see my baby’s
Lungs breathe their first breath
Of life where another was cruelly
Smothered in the lonely dawn of
Death and my own shameful despair.
Fear
Fear is not my friend
It is a debilitating foe
Slowly sapping the
Life from me;
It follows,
Lurks in shadows,
Knows my every move,
Infiltrates even my
Innermost thoughts
˜
Fear pierces my bosom,
It rakes every inch of
My being; running
Through my veins
Leaving its venomous
Sediment to intoxicate
All that was pure, slowly
Ravaging cell and vesicle
Leaving only a vacant mass
˜
Fear is merciless; fear has no
Shame, no pity, it feeds its
Boundless hunger on my
Innocence and fragility
Knowing that it can, at any
Moment, without even the
Slightest warning, overpower,
Subdue and defeat me; but it won’t,
For it knows that is what I desire most.
Tulips
Your haughty primness
Often construed as
Arrogance
˜
Tautly reclusive
Secluding your
Beauty
˜
Awaiting ever so patiently
Until the moment of
Revealing
˜
Spreading your petals
Curling twists of smooth
Perfection
˜
At once you are divine
Succulent, swollen and
Glistening
˜
Growing wider, lush
Your brilliance devouring
Moonbeams
˜
Penetrating every darkness
Forceful, all consuming,
Illuminating
˜
Until death lures you
To another transient
Reawakening.
