yesterday he held her close to his heart
and whispered the mysteries of the universe
in her ear
now each day lasts at least one hundred years
and she waits by the fire listening for his song
to start again
she only hears the cooing of the doves
and the panting heavy breath of the dog
or is it her own
but she knows if she keeps listening
she will hear his voice deep inside
close to her heart
until then she lies in the dark at night
and weaves peacock feathers
in her hair
looking for light
it’s just over there
but can’t seem to
get a handle on it
climbing upward
seems the most obvious
but slippery and difficult
sliding or falling down
is what I do best
maybe there is light
at the bottom of the abyss
wholly incomplete, dusty and battered
ripped twice with weak hands, today thrown away
yet the only thing that really mattered
without it his life was in disarray
he once had given to it tender care
but now it lay completely neglected
an untidy heap on the rocking chair
not a hope or prayer of being resurrected
til he had faded for so many sad years
and remembered what he had lost and found
wisdom often comes with much grief and tears
hoping for life the other way around
but still the color of blue stains the wood
while soft breezes offer silent retreat
your life is your life.
don’t let it be clubbed into dank
submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you
chances.
know them, take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life,
sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous.
the gods wait to delight
in you
by Charles Bukowski
When I die, my dear,
please play Leonard Cohen on the stereo,
scatter rose petals on the carpet,
light patchouli candles in every room.
There will be no funerals or services.
Let me be a fading memory,
as soon as I am gone.
Remember what you will
and allow the rest to remain unspoken.
In your quiet conversations
may gentle laughter be your solace.
This joy I bequeath to you
is the joy that will take me on.
In a flurry of activity and a cacophony of chatter
all of the family congregated in the kitchen for a reunion,
the aunts and uncles and cousins
and even the distant relatives that you only see every few years.
Everyone was there except me.
I sat in my room across town looking for my shoe.
My mother finally came to help me and admonished me
for losing my clothes and keeping
the clan waiting for so long.
Finally her frustration at me reached a breaking point
and she began to place boards over my windows and
doors, nailing them to the walls.
When she finished we sat and looked at each other
and came to the realization that we were captives together.
