flashcard

  when the flood comes
you have no home - you have no walls

F L A S H  C A R D

yep - she gave birth to me
changed my many thousands of dirty diapers

she fed, bathed me - nurtured me

she showed me things

love and survival 

techniques

giving her a grand-daughter
who she got to know briefly - the resemblance
is uncanny - stunning - running

panting - letting go eventually - and so
i swim to safety - still swimming
(preferably cold water - a lake or quarry)

this burden - weighing me down
catching my breath - not

stranded starfish have no place to hide

still waiting for the swollen easter tide

 

and so in the gradual fermenting of my formula 
in the tick tock thickening of my arteries, my shortness of breath
in my weakening knees and feet - hanging
winding the clock tight in suspension
until she stops


in the thunder crash
you're a thousand minds, within a flash

in the remembrance of all 

my careless conquests
the quickening

i remember her

having passed

ten years

ago 

lung cancer

her consistent tenderness
later in life succumbing - surrender

watching her relinquish her rhapsody

with the men in her life - one train wreck

after another - she had me - her little boy

her son, to ease the chronic pain

and suffering - albeit

briefly

it's like nothing matters anymore
and yet yes - it does
i can still move
forward without
her

waiting for my own cancer
to arrive

ah the good times
perpetuating circumstances
despite the odds


there's no point in direction
we cannot even choose
a side

and so we discover, all too late
that most medicinal miracle cures
are just a hoax, just a scam 
BIG PHARMA calling them "placebo" - ah ok
where the mind "thinks", it's being taken care of by fake medicines that cost a lot
some work, most don't

returning to

something more - meaningful
more spiritual

back to a time when there was hope

in a whirving whirlwind where nothing is certain

in a world where nothing makes sense except for us

the two of us rotating in redundancy
the moon orbiting the earth
orbiting the sun

yes, your train-wreck relationships with men

over and over and over again

still finding me
your reason

to live

first in your womb, in your sole creation

in your inability to connect and yet

in your ability to conceive

regardless 

 and so what goes around, comes around

they call it "covert incest" in psychiatric circles

finding home in the familiar

in our children

what gives

bad things happen 
where's the good advice
it's all empty promises with no substance anymore
now that she's gone

  our so-called 'authorities' (doctors, lawyers, priests, politicians) 
have no idea what any of this means 
and fundamentally

don't care 

it's all about control
the caustic creative contagion contingency
the one they don't tell us about

what you don't know
won't hurt you

hospitalized 
and hemorrhaging 

alone again
 

ok, it's not sexual
but it is dysfunctional
proprietary 

universal

it's in all the tragedies and injustices

surrounding us on any given day

there's always her familiar

touch me again
i miss you

 deliriously defaulting

into a safety net that envelops us
in self entrapment

yes - a reason to live
inside this thing outside of me

returning the sustenance
in an ever diminishing dementia
lost voices echoing down
a long cold corridor 
well lit (funded) and yet

shimmering in short supply

 

 it's not what i wanted

this dependency

i don't want to feel dependent on anyone

and yet when you are sinking into the abyss

there's that certain sense of comfort

that comes from knowing

that someone is there

with you

i'm not a religious person

but i believe in god

i believe in her

only because she's the only reason

i wish to remain

here

coming home just feels good
no expectations and yet - yes here we go

it's clean, pure - no judgements

only real love

a love that can only come 

from a child

f l a s h  c a r d




 don't be afraid to cry of what you see

the actors gone
 

there's only you and me

and so where does this leave us
in a thousand years

i'd like to think that someone, somewhere
will remember us




dedicated to pansy edith batho
pat miller - april 16, 1932 - july 29, 2004