Father P.C.M. (Precious Childhood Memories)

So many, I should be able to shuffle
Them like cards and arrange them
Into different hands, full house, two pair
Et cetera Et cetera. So many hands, so

Alive the days, the hours growing under
Your gaze, facts great and small tumbling
Out of your hard working teeth, so much
Enjoyed the taste of living, the joys great

And small, coursing along the network
Through the high voltage bangs “Christ”
“******” And back again, looking for the next
Buzz, lighting the way, the room, the earth.

Keeping it real

We make what ifs and isn’ts

To feed our minds fresh memories

 

What can be made can be

Seen, what can be seen, is.

 

Still life cannot be stopped,

It was there before easel,

 

We can only sit in silence

And find peace in mimicry.