Untitled 1



You don't understand
why you've lost his embrace
once a kiss was enough to feed multitudes
now the jam and croissant
and the morning's soft mirth
are declined because they're "half eaten."


Is it so unforeseen
his pursuit of Eros
the highest and best and most beautiful
was not just a rhapsody
wrapped in your name
but a doomed questing passion you loved and "forgave"?





Comments

  1. CandaceJanuary 3, 2007 at 9:07 PM

    Sad, but, in the way of many sad things, so beautiful, Joe.

    ReplyDelete
  2. The GruntJanuary 4, 2007 at 2:52 AM

    It is good to see this other side of you, Joe.

    ReplyDelete
  3. BugsJanuary 4, 2007 at 4:13 AM

    Agree with Candace - sad but beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. DieselJanuary 4, 2007 at 11:48 AM

    I think I need to come back and read it a few more times.

    ReplyDelete
  5. CandaceJanuary 5, 2007 at 11:50 AM

    Just came back to read this again and the picture really adds impact. Wow.

    ReplyDelete
  6. RDJanuary 5, 2007 at 12:17 PM

    I wish I didn't understand those words.

    ReplyDelete
  7. RoseJanuary 9, 2007 at 8:12 PM

    Sad, but beautifully written.

    ReplyDelete
  8. LemuelJanuary 11, 2007 at 12:06 PM

    haunting.

    (thanks for visiting my blog; it led me to yours. i love your prose and your poetry.)

    ReplyDelete
  9. GawpoJanuary 11, 2007 at 5:02 PM

    Coly How, Joe. That is so beautiful. When I got to the end, the first thing I thought of saying to you was, "That is so sad." And reading the comments of the others who say it, all I can do is throw mine on the pile. I love what justjock says about the wishing we didn't know what those words mean.

    ReplyDelete
  10. GillianJanuary 13, 2007 at 7:25 AM

    Get a publisher!
    Geez, this stuff is great.
    I will be back here again.
    Don't you find you meet the most interesting people on Blogger?
    Take care Joe~!
    Keep writing.....

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pool ku

pairs of lotioned limbs grow tan on white deck chairs sometimes a page turns a hibiscus bud skips across the chalky deck prodded by a breeze crows drop crusts of bread into the blue pool, a few sink to nevermore styrofoam noodles the color of crayons float in bright water the black and white cat crouches, lapping water slyly then feigns indifference a ring of house keys a pair of yellow flip flops lie in striped shade her gaze enjoins the umbrella’s taut shadow of whom does that girl dream?
Read more

Agatha

It must have been close to Christmas, but on which side, I don't quite  remember. I suspect it was sometime in the January doldrums when all was  frozen and gray. My friend Walter decided it was a good day for a dog. To get  one, that is. "I know I'm me, because my little dog knows me," Walter once  quoted Gertrude Stein. With his boyfriend Joseph away in the hospital, the house  had an unaccustomed empty feeling. And it had been without a dog for too long.  The shelter was in Ann Arbor . We piled festively into the car for the outing. It didn't take long to find her, a black and white ragamuffin puppy, so excited to  see us that her tail seemed to wag her whole body. "This one?" I said, my inner  ten year old going can we get her? Huh? Can we? Can we? On the way home in  the car Walter chuckled, "I don't know whose eyes were more pleading - hers or  yours." Walter named her Agatha, in honor of Miss Christie, the doyenne of our  mi...
Read more