I can hear the angels
Sing songs only the angels
Sing songs of being
Neither here nor there
Angels and those
Close to death
Sing songs often sweetly
Sing songs below hearing
For all those
Neither here nor there
Hearing the songs of
Angels and those
Near to being angels
Sing songs I hear
Everywhere.
I can Hear the Angles
Leaving
It is possible there is a perfect time to die. A time when the stories told of you would be of kind compassion and rambunctious joy. Those are the times. When you are filled with love.
Not when you are alone. Not when you are filled with despair. A time when people think of you and smile, not shake their heads and ask why. Not too late when you have been lingering. But when you are active and happy. Die dancing. Die walking the beach. Not in front of a TV.
But most people don’t get to pick their time, it seems to me. And those who do often pick the time of despair and loneliness, leaving more despair behind them.
The perfect time would not have been the time that I picked. And, realizing it in time, pulled back. No, that was two weeks too early. The prefect time…
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Remembrance of Things that Never Happened
I remember the last kiss
like the first one,
like it was yesterday and
a thousand years ago
We met. You asked
is it ok that
you’re in love with me.
I said yes. You said
yes. And much of a century passed
of adjustments, smiles,
arguments, love, more love,
kids. Gray hair,
Trips to far-away places
we talked about, visits
for graduations, weddings,
births, grandkids,
the passing of friends, parents,
comforting, resting in
chairs around the warm fire
in Winter, old bones,
and I don’t remember who died first, but
Oh God, I hope it was me.
Eclipse
For the Eclipse, and, really, for love, without which I would certainly have gone dark.
Eclipse
The sun and the moon
Have been with each other
Since time on Earth began,
Each following the other.
The sun wants nothing more than
To light the face of his beloved.
The moon, for her
Sun to rest.
But he is a creature of duty,
and does not stop.
Except, on occasion,
When she catches up with him,
Instead of shining on her,
She covers him with her body,
And he rests.
He rests. And the world stops.
He rests.
So seldom.
The Walk
I’m going to take a walk
Down the street with
My eyes closed,
And trust
The cars will do the right thing,
Whatever that is.
There are no sidewalks
Here. Ditches and culverts
On either side sweep deep
From the narrow swale.
The foot can feel
The pavement drop
To grass,
Drop.
I’m told
Everything happens
For a reason. So let
Everything happen that will
And let there be reason made of it.
Frogs in one ear,
Cars in the other.
Streetlamps through eyelids,
And a slow steady gate into
Who knows.
Stars
In my room,
3am, I have woken to
The awe of the black heavens.
Eyes closed,
the stars are
Beautiful. Bright,
Filling the sky
On this cloudless night.
I scanned the far reaches,
Constellations unnamed,
Clusters, and lone lights,
Galaxies, Nebulae –
The glory of the dark
Whose depths are infinite,
Ineffable. And, all at once,
Gone
These stars
Only I got to see.
For however many minutes
There was a
Universe of one.
Passover and the Industrial Revolution
Source: Passover and the Industrial Revolution