Lay them under
the morning dew, witnessed by the whispering trees
The silence is gently swept along, like the ghost of
bygone times
Bury them deep, under the flowers, in order line
upon line
For over these grassy mounds but a century before,
screamed musket balls, sabers clashed, the angry
cannon roared
What has changed in the years that past, only the
way to kill our fellow man, to leave their bodies
broken and crumpled on the land
The ability to spill more blood to drench the
shifting sand
Bury them deep beneath the flowers, let their bones
turn to dust
For in a few short years their memory will fade,
their swords turned to rust
So
bury them deep beneath the flowers, let the breeze
blow gently over the mounds, the final bed of
these men who sleep beneath the ground
Bury them deep under the
flowers, in valley Forge, Gettysburg, and Dieppe
In battles fought so long
ago I confess to forget, what they were fought for
Gold, beliefs, or land, the
take the lives of God's children by our mortal
hand
To leave the loved ones
bathed in grief, and they to share these graces,
silent morose and cold
Not in flesh, but in living
death, the heart and the soul
Bury them deep under the earth, let the flowers
feed,
for in the end a plot six by two, is all that man
does need
Now listen softly to war song, the muted bugel note,
that flows across the silent flowers, like whisps of
autumn smoke
It cuts again into the wound that left scars upon
the heart for the only thing that has really
changed,
is the number of mounds just two feet apart
Bury them deep under the flowers
maybe if all my friends wouldn't have left
town, I could have saved you.
In the very misplaced
words of Nora Mulroney,
"you didn't think he
was going to die, did you"
wednesday
may
20 2020
7:33
am
this.
is not a methodology.
tuesday
may 12 2020
7:49am
i move with you, this flat
"device",
such a cold name, star trek people
we don't name our devices
do we.
tepid, stale, coffee, on the sink, sip sip
wakey wakey. slowly fakey. brain achey.
dreamy dreamy - a party at my mother's house,
she was checking the bags for alcohol in
the driveway
and a reuinion with someone i met at the
start of a long dream what a dream
no boldy.
you are gone; and in your place; are many;
this hole is filled with people who
disappeared;
precisely two; do they make up you;
theories abounded yesterday:
sensors behind firewalls;
thinking we all have the same view;
life is quite flat without people.
monday, aka lundi in rimouski
may 11 2020
9:51am
where did the morning go,
sensors come
sensors go
a message from Helsinki brightens the day;
as the lady upstairs shakes her pain over the
balcony
tries to clean her heart;
with every dirty rug she beats;
her frozen emotions scatter themselves on my patio
set.
i weep for her.
friday
may 8 2020
8:48 am
you
know there's a story
there's always a story
and this time behind a waking brain
is a story i might never tell
which might die with all the other untold stories
from this storyteller
but she's got them; they are here;
behind walls of sleep;
and walls of fear
a certain tale, of three men, three very similar men, in
fact,
the first one spawned the other two, being my role model
for a man.
soft, humble, kind and gentle
every day.
one born in 1932, who moved to a big city to raise a
family,
as one did in a depression.
one whose parents fled a country in 1957, over
mountains,
as one did in a revolution.
and whose youngest son, came into a gentler world than
they
with only good intentions for a crumbling world around
him
until he crumbled with it during a pandemic.
as one does in a pandemic.
and one whose parents fled a civil war while I
was falling in love with the Hungarian boy.
who appeared in my office three times a day for almost
ten years
until he didn't.
may 7 2020
a
sunshine in my eyes;
a ringing in my ears;
a scar in my heart;
a penny for my fears;
"you didn't think he was going to die, did you"
"no, i really didn't"
eight am in a pandemic
while i wait to awake
tepid java in hand
long nights abound
this brain and this heart
race around the past present and future
trying to connect
with something
anything
it is failing this week
pre-java
pre-covid
"you didn't expect a pandemic, did you"
"no, i really didn't"
life comes.
life goes.
getting realer.
may 6 2020
may
may may you go away
may month by day day
may i sleep and may i pray
and may you all please go away
may 6th and mothers day
and may the fourth and cinqo may
around the poles another day
on may in may
just go away
a Wednesday starts a day in may
the wrong font types
just go away
with sleep comes thoughts
of things you say
and silence comes
this month of may
