Thursday, May 29, 2003

Epiphany on the Can

Tuesday, 27 May

When you visualize the recent past, do you see it as being somewhere over on the left?
George Carlin


I need to get off my ass and start writing poetry again

post haste, before the sun starts setting on days, and weeks, before I find myself 40, spread on on a beach blanket, basking in the fire island sun

It comes quickly, you know. A priest once told me that the Devil's greatest deception was convincing humanity that there's time (Father Bob, I believe, now dead and gone) --

but what about? Love and death ad nauseum? The roar of motors on York Road (soon to be a memory, soon enough), the ever present early summer rain? The sun sets over Fire Island, the traffic crawling past Curtis Bay.

How when I'm sitting on the john and look left

into the room length mirror, flickering candles beneath the burned-out bathroom light (one in four), through the red hair and the beard and the wire-rimmed glasses I can sometimes still see Helen gazing back at me? More still, the McHales, the Ronans, the tree stretches left into the past, The Wars, The Famine, the Kings of Ireland, the Dawn of Man.

And she's gone a year and change now. The sun sets suddenly enough.

I need to get off my ass and start writing poetry again.

Monday, May 26, 2003

Welcome to the World

Monday, 26 May

Dearest Reader,

I'm sitting at home, half past eleven on Memorial Day, burning candles in an otherwise darkened room, listening to the end of an old song

exultemus et in ipso iucundemur
timeamus et amemus deum vivum
et ex corde digilamus nos sincero
et ex corde digilamus nos sincero

and joining the 21st century with the click of a button