21.
O, when the heavens' tempest rips the air
And rain is beating fury 'gainst the glass
I rest here at my desk, my windows bare
And muse this second Deluge come to pass
And rain is beating fury 'gainst the glass
I rest here at my desk, my windows bare
And muse this second Deluge come to pass
It binds my mind, and lo, my woeful heart
Does mend against the cleansing of the earth
My sorrow's spent; my worries rent apart
By hurricanes—they work with wicked mirth
Does mend against the cleansing of the earth
My sorrow's spent; my worries rent apart
By hurricanes—they work with wicked mirth
Arrest me, waters—here, my spirit's hewn
Come play some thund'rous baptist, last to cleanse
My soul. Unrest, through your divine typhoon
Will wane as raindrops mist my crystal lens
Come play some thund'rous baptist, last to cleanse
My soul. Unrest, through your divine typhoon
Will wane as raindrops mist my crystal lens
I thank the god from whom such floods begin
This wrath without: a balm for calm within
This wrath without: a balm for calm within
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22.
I felt my hands begin to slow today
When plucked my strings eked out their tender tune
More heavy than before—as if some clay
Encased my fingers. I am not immune
When plucked my strings eked out their tender tune
More heavy than before—as if some clay
Encased my fingers. I am not immune
From rallentando tempos of old age
Indeed, it was a vision of my past
Which grasped my throat and pointed me downstage
Whereby my dying spot shall fade at last
Indeed, it was a vision of my past
Which grasped my throat and pointed me downstage
Whereby my dying spot shall fade at last
And yet, with time came tempered mastery
Of music, and despite some speed decrease
I trust these practiced hands to referee
Precision 'gainst momentum doomed to cease
Of music, and despite some speed decrease
I trust these practiced hands to referee
Precision 'gainst momentum doomed to cease
Perhaps it's fate to walk a slowing row
From moderato to adagio
From moderato to adagio
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23.
These weeks feel drawn, the way they wither on
Along you. I can see in you the streak
Of age as duskward stretches far the dawn
More promptly than we'd planned—the night falls bleak
Along you. I can see in you the streak
Of age as duskward stretches far the dawn
More promptly than we'd planned—the night falls bleak
But I can't help but revel in your fight
'Gainst death herself. Her breath across your face
Reveals a truth elusive in twilight
But here lays bare before the morning's grace
'Gainst death herself. Her breath across your face
Reveals a truth elusive in twilight
But here lays bare before the morning's grace
I walk you bed to chair and back again
And wrestle with the wreckage of your mind
Beside you, but outside it. What are men
When sense turns senseless and ours eyes go blind?
And wrestle with the wreckage of your mind
Beside you, but outside it. What are men
When sense turns senseless and ours eyes go blind?
Now, come away and rise up from the floor
I'll join you hand-in-hand to fight your war
I'll join you hand-in-hand to fight your war
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24.
There is no God to thank for trials set
Before me, nor for the resultant strength
With which I overcame them. Life's duet
Lies now between my purpose and its length
Before me, nor for the resultant strength
With which I overcame them. Life's duet
Lies now between my purpose and its length
When I was young, I sought the platitude
Of faith, and what it took to be beheld
By eyes above. I felt their gaze elude
My spir't, and so my inquisition quelled
Of faith, and what it took to be beheld
By eyes above. I felt their gaze elude
My spir't, and so my inquisition quelled
These days, paradisiacal beliefs
Flee from me, e'en when I again try best
To wrestle with them—therefore, in these griefs
My triumphs rise as waves birth each their crest
Flee from me, e'en when I again try best
To wrestle with them—therefore, in these griefs
My triumphs rise as waves birth each their crest
When solace lacks in chasing heaven's light
I relish victory o'er earth-bound plight
I relish victory o'er earth-bound plight
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25.
It's in these moments that I fail to write
This poetry so desp'rate to be wove
That thoughts fly to an idyll cloaked in white
And render me a lone and snowy grove
This poetry so desp'rate to be wove
That thoughts fly to an idyll cloaked in white
And render me a lone and snowy grove
My solace comes from solitude, it seems
When tribulations fast around me whirl
In turn, my churning brain burns black its dreams
Instead of stanzas, fantasies unfurl
When tribulations fast around me whirl
In turn, my churning brain burns black its dreams
Instead of stanzas, fantasies unfurl
There's nothing to be written in this state
Of mind, no rhyme or rhythm will take hold
Upon my page. I watch the clock turn late
And sigh these summoned daydreams of the cold
Of mind, no rhyme or rhythm will take hold
Upon my page. I watch the clock turn late
And sigh these summoned daydreams of the cold
For though there's comfort in an aim resigned
I feel a failure—failure of the mind
I feel a failure—failure of the mind
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26.
Is there still something burning in me yet
That wishes now to cast the stone of blame
Upon my father? And for what—his debt
Forever's doomed to go unpaid. I came
That wishes now to cast the stone of blame
Upon my father? And for what—his debt
Forever's doomed to go unpaid. I came
Across the country for to watch him die
And so I am. I bathe and dress the one
Who once bathed me. He'll rest, regressed, and lie
Here 'til he's called, absolved by mind undone
And so I am. I bathe and dress the one
Who once bathed me. He'll rest, regressed, and lie
Here 'til he's called, absolved by mind undone
That death would bear this fruit so fairly skewed
Far from my expectations, yet his last
Cold, harrowed months of atrophy imbued
Insight, and so compassion masked the past
Far from my expectations, yet his last
Cold, harrowed months of atrophy imbued
Insight, and so compassion masked the past
He lays here now, with nothing but his name
As innocent he was the day he came
As innocent he was the day he came
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27.
The last time that I saw you was, I think
A Monday, Sunday maybe. Memory
Serves us nostalgiacs our fee to drink
As shots, chilled, tart with lime. The lime comes free
A Monday, Sunday maybe. Memory
Serves us nostalgiacs our fee to drink
As shots, chilled, tart with lime. The lime comes free
So, though the dates melt frayéd day into
The next, in place of settings squarely hid
The details fire through: with ev'ry dew
There we are, wet upon the grass. When did
The next, in place of settings squarely hid
The details fire through: with ev'ry dew
There we are, wet upon the grass. When did
We do that? March? What aim have games that don't
Allow me sleep? Well, must I? Maybe, but
To say I should forget you, well I won't
I won't, I won't. You've marked me like a cut
Allow me sleep? Well, must I? Maybe, but
To say I should forget you, well I won't
I won't, I won't. You've marked me like a cut
By blade upon this worn and weary hand
So weary, now it's got no place to land
So weary, now it's got no place to land
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