Bill's taste in boys is macabre

with the car doing donuts in the left turn lane
under the bright green arrow of night,
riding over median sidewalk obstructions,
in between here and there
                                            my destination,
I am having the same thoughts as before,

once there was a man
covered in ivy
who, birthed from a tree,
walked toward me,
beside him was a woman,
made from bark of tree,
she raised her arms
toward me, moaning

But I can't quite place them
and my leg is wrapped in brace,
so the time is not quite right,
I was so much younger,
I am walking again,

and I look out to the castle,
meant to be a hospital,
on the left, right, now left,
and catching a glimpse of the driver,
up front, I see that somehow
it's my grandmother
                                 with wheel locked and pedal down
and maybe it hasn't been six years since your death.

And Jesus says...

We turn slower than before
knowing remembering
what we saw, what we heard,
you are reading this
in wonder, it is a poem,
it is meant to grasp at some greater meaning
some silver lining, some pretentious
universal truth,
we are all erudite fools,
words meaning nothing
deeds meaning less,
we are born we grow we shrink we die
the universe laughs
the insects chew on us
recycle our eyes our hearts our lungs
our memory our triumphs our failures our life
and the meek shall inherit the earth

Time of Death: Tuesday, October 20, 2009; 2:00pm

I had already taken those steps,
sat idle on turning wheels
and gliding rails
walked steps through streets of urban decay
and into the light of walled academia,
before I heard the news
listened to the voice
read the pain in those words, still
There was nothing else to do
but move on

Good Bye, for my Grandmother and Mother

Time is near its end
a hard orange brown light
and my mother by her side,
I have barely known her,
always on the periphery,
outside, strong
hard, unyielding
inapproachable,

now the light clings
to empty glasses,
frozen mirrors,
reflections of a life
soon to pass;
clustered on the walls,
clinging to the furniture
of a single room

a heaviness
weighing on us all,
my mother holds her hand,
dried tears, but through the fog
I can hear her crying,
them crying, together crying,
playing years like movies
before their eyes,
changing, interpreting
in the end there is no bad,
there is only good,
time memory hello good bye

I say good bye to her
a woman I never knew
will never know,
wishing I could have known,
standing walking running
the rain beats down on our heads
we don't lift our eyes,
time stops for but a moment
yet we miss it,
saying good night
to my grandmother.