:: :: :: :: terrible dragon: slaying the world one poem at a time :: :: :: ::
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A ghost of last breath
The Last Woman I Fall In Love With
may be named Jeremy. He will work in the hospital they brought me to and be a paragon of caring and procedural execution. He will tend to me beyond the end of my luxurious discomfiture.
Or her name might be Connie. She’ll be ordinary among ordinary, yet I will find her unsurpassingly beautiful. I will have unnoticed her on a thousand streets and a thousand subway seats.
Only now will I recognize her as my tending angel. I will want to sit with her over coffee and talk in detail about the new curtains she hung in her living room that match the blue seat cushions.
She will know the purpose of every tube, be adept in filtered needles and dispensing of pain medication. She will take me back to the bliss of my youth a hundred times and never know.
I will fall in love with her in the last hour, marry and have three kids. We will have a wooded house in Ohio, a cabin in the San Juans, and a yurt somewhere far up in the Blue Ridge.
The last woman I fall in love with will see me through to the other side. She’ll set the coins to settle up with the ferryman, unplug the machines, notate her clipboard, and call for the doctor.
When they return, it will be the most embarrassing moment of my life. They will check some signs, say some words, note a time in the chart, and douse the light. My love will lie hidden in a ghost of last breath. Joseph Gallo February 25, 2010
For my father on the day of his birth and who passed away in May 2005. And for all of us who have lost and will lose fathers.
The lovers walk, their every footfall an exercise in cinching the bond, invisible points where tendrils stretch and strain along the body in tender pressure variables that move them apart, but not too apart, and clumsily crash them together.
This couple are in Kapellplatz, she in white, he in black, neither aware I am watching a world away, spying them gait their paired singularity, noting how the muscles compensate for cobbled terrain and the old stone fountain before them, marvel at how they negotiate the obstacle without compromising the union, the loving states that tell me they are lovers.
wisdom is worth all we lose to attain it. ~aucassin verdé
i wonder if the artist ever lives his life-—he is so busy recreating it. only as i write do i realize myself. i don't know what that does to life. ~anne sexton
you must acquire the trick of ignoring those who do not like you. in my experience, those who do not like you fall into two categories: the stupid and the envious. the stupid will like you in five years time. the envious, never.~john wilmot, 2nd earl of rochester
art arises when the secret vision of the artist and the manifestation of nature agree to find new shapes. ~kahlil gibran
creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. art is knowing which ones to keep. ~scott adams
those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart, don't know how to laugh either. ~golda meir
i said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope,
for hope would be hope
for the wrong thing.
wait without love,
for love would be love
of the wrong thing.
there is yet faith;
but the faith and the love
and the hope are all
in the waiting.
wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought.
so the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.