tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post872547433021240826..comments2024-03-28T13:41:01.132-04:00Comments on BLCKDGRD: We Were Entering Dark Houses, Always More Dark Houses, Hushed and AbandonedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-77535182879317959112013-08-10T20:19:25.762-04:002013-08-10T20:19:25.762-04:00http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/10/us/mystery-from-...http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/10/us/mystery-from-the-grave-beside-oswalds-solved.html?_r=0mistah charley, ph.d.https://www.blogger.com/profile/06303695341246058680noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-14936444716789286552013-08-10T16:32:38.547-04:002013-08-10T16:32:38.547-04:00and .. A photo essay of a family in mourning
Perfo...and .. A photo essay of a family in mourning<br />Perforated ever-so-slightly<br />to better let the light seep through<br /><br />Sunday traffic clears a path<br />We float inches above the road<br />Close our eyes and drive so slow<br />Like we never need to get home<br /><br />To clear the doorstep of flowers<br />Throw open the blinds in his empty room<br />Avert our eyes from his fingerprints<br />Is there something I'm forgetting?<br /><br />Fall to my knees in the hospital parking lot<br />On the way in arms full of branches<br />I am dead fall, dead fall<br /><br />Last time I came here to visit him<br />I ran sunburnt through the halls<br />My arms full of tiger-lilies<br />I don't remember this<br />I was told to go home<br />Clear the doorstep of flowers<br />Throw open the blinds in his empty room<br />Avert my eyes from his fingerprints<br />Is there something I'm forgetting?<br /><br />Why, when you know you should go,<br />is it so hard to leave?<br /><br />Why, when you know you should go,<br />is it so hard to leave?<br /><br />Why, when you know you should go...<br /><br />Came this far to say goodbye to set things right<br />Instead I fiddle with his blankets fetching coffee<br />No one will drink<br />I am not prepared<br /><br />Through the hush of debts and the roar of engines<br />We'll struggle to recall<br />This is how it ended<br />This is how it endsHome,<br />turn the key in the door and pause<br />For what seems like an awfully long time<br />There's something I'm both remembering and forgetting<br />A name on the tip of my tongue<br /><br />Why, when you know you should go,<br />is it so hard to leave?.. . -c.fellows,verterbrae<br />annehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07224316837055308827noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-64169089950995405912013-08-10T13:53:37.264-04:002013-08-10T13:53:37.264-04:00of my ..never leaving ont. verse ..of the arg h ab...of my ..never leaving ont. verse ..of the arg h above , of where i walked again with my father last after noon with the old willows of shade , by the sunny side pavili on by the lake here ,ont. ,.. in through the courts.. with our quiet grace ..gracing , in and of a.. public space .. that should never be ..let .. ,to be a place of private gatherings ,of weddings to the sun bed tanned young ladies that were in the wash room where i went in to wash my hands of our quiet under the willows lunch and sand , of their too high of cost for all ways . of wrongly gathered wealth no grace ,stop filling ,places of grace that should never not be public ,with your self important ways .. . said the swan with her father .. . ,pluck / .. . still reading ...annehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07224316837055308827noreply@blogger.com