Listics

Today is Jim Morrison’s birthday and the anniversary of John Lennon’s death.

…and tomorrow is Ray’s birthday, in honor of which I have stolen this poem:

thanksgiving (revised)

I’m not one to give thanks

when things go my way,

for then I’d have to blow curses

every time it rains—

like a child banging

banging on his high chair

for his share of rapture

rapture for the day

and yet sometimes across the table

when everyone is there

and all slows down

and Silence bangs her soundless gavel

our mouths stuff with all the years at once

and the common realization

that all is here all is gone

all is temporary that’s all

And go go into the night

with the same wrinkles of my mom

the same wrinkles of my dad and chuckle

chuckle at this strange conspiracy at play,

this strange conspiracy that is dna

and wilder still at all beginnings

and endings.

And once more then once more

at the cold moon and the chill

of another mile alone,

for tonight you see

her soft pale memory

is enough.

Posted by ray sweatman November 23, 2024