poem as accident...
as life----a series of divinely
beginning and ending with miracles
with bleeding fingers
to bleeding feelings
finding once more
the grief that lies locked
within entombed visions
Happy 51! I told myself. Happy Birthday, birthday boy, and
...anew ...my happy 18th birthday telegram from Momma...
2 weeks in the Navy and the Chief had just
thrown my clothing out the window.
I didn't really cry. It just looked that way
and only if you looked close.
I stood outside for some moments and
watched newcomers filing into their
barracks... for the first time on my own...
I would know how dreams die.
Happy 51! ....he says
as he looks with silly smile at that which has fallen at his feet.
that which once had held his love....torn and crumpled.
Shit...man....he tearfully sneers...they come and go and go and
go. Oh ho ho.
51st anniversary of the commencement
of the movement
a little meat
not much bread
HOLD THE MAYO!
and so.... and so...... and so it went:
the first ha ho hee hee
of this passing entertainment....
would you pass the ketchup please?
Jan 13, 1985, Tucson, Az
©Allan Bazar, 2000, All rights reserved.
Written on my first birthday
after the dissolution
of my last marriage.